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Chapter Eleven

11.

He hurries down the corridor and out into the longue. It's too hot. The sun feels as though it's burning into the room and there's no air. Boys begin to mill into the room, some of therapy sessions done. Other boys who don't have this morning are already sitting at the tables or in front of the TV. An old run of 'Britain's Got Talent: Worst Auditions Ever!'is running quietly in the background. Edward looks round the room, searching for somewhere with air and that's alone. He doesn't want to talk to anyone, he doesn't want to see anyone. He locks eyes with the young boy staring at him from the other side of the room. The boy has brown, shabby hair and brown eyes to match. He looks young, and Edward guesses he must be about 18, the youngest age you can be to be in here. He maintains eye contact for a second longer and then looks away when the boy raises his hand and waves gently. Edward flushes and doesn't look back. Embarrassed of how he must look right now. He ignores a nurse asking if he's alright, and looks round the room again, searching for some air and somewhere alone. He sees the brown haired shabby boy still looking at him and deliberately looks in the other direction.

He doesn't want to go back to his room, he'll be disturbed there, and there's nowhere else to go in this place. And then he sees the door, propped open with a chair, a cool gentle breeze flooding into the room. He edges closer to the door, allowing the cool breeze to surround his hot, sticky body. But it's still too hot. He looks at the door again. He hasn't been outside since he arrived and he's not sure he wants to or even can go outside. Unsure if his body or mind can take it. But the room is too much and so are the people. Everyone is milling around, some watching TV, some reading, some just staring at a blank patch on the wall. He glances round once more, unsure if he should just walk out the room and into the bright late summer evening. In his quick glance of the room, he sees the young boy again, and this time the boy takes a step towards him. And that's all it takes for Edward to make his decision. He makes a beeline for the door. He doesn't care if his body isn't ready for sunshine and fresh air. He needs it. He wants it. So, pushes it open and stumbles out into the cool late summer breeze.

He pauses for a second, seeing a couple of boys sitting on the grass near the building. They look over at him for a second, and then go back to their conversation. They don't care for him, or why he's stumbling out of the building. Edward likes that, he doesn't want anyone to talk to him, he doesn't want to talk to anyone. He wants to be alone. He wants some time to just be. He wants to get far away. So, he begins to run. He runs and runs and runs. As he runs, his breath begins to catch, and his breathing becomes wheezy. He's struggling, his body not used to this type of exercise or movement in general. Yet, as his pace slows and breathing becomes weaker and weaker, he continues to run as best as he can. He wants to be far away from the centre and far away from everyone. He doesn't care what happens to him anymore. If his heart decides enough is enough right this second, and he drops down dead, he won't mind. He's outside and finally moving his tired bones, and everything, for the first time in a long time, feels alright. So, he continues to go, until his legs turn to jelly, and he feels although he's going to collapse. He looks back at the building as his legs begin to move slower. He's on the other side of the grass, far away from everyone and everything.

He finally stumbles to stop, wheezing and clutching his chest. His heart feels like it's burning and is going to rip out of his chest any second. He drops to his knees and pauses for a moment. Unsure is he can move anymore, and unsure how he's going to make it back to the centre at any point tonight. He slowly sinks back onto his back. He feels the fresh air fill his lungs as he tries to steady his breathing. In and out. In and out. He gulps in the air, and looks up to the blue, cloudy sky. He's unsure if his breathing will ever be right again but he doesn't care. He focuses on the sky, trying to concentrate on something other than his breathing. And he decides it's beautiful. He forgot how beautiful the sky really is. How beautiful the world can actually be. He feels at peace. The clouds are moving silently along, and he can hear some birds cheeping in the distance. He likes that. It reminds him that although he feels numb and dead most the time, there are other animals and things out there living. It reminds him that not all is lost yet. Even though he feels it. He gulps in a few more time, the sharp cool air filling his lung once again. He's still struggling to catch his breath properly, but he just continues to look up at the sky. The beautiful, peaceful sky. He feels the air all over his body, inside and out. And then he closes his eyes.