Community Service Well Spent
Chapter 8 - A long awaited Visit
When I walked into the building, I see a different receptionist then the last time I came here. I decide to go up to her instead of just walking through. Her hair is long and blonde, a little lighter then my own shade. Her eyes are big and blue, surrounded by short blonde lashes. Her reading glasses slide down her nose when she looks up at me.
"Hello. Who are you here to see?" She asks pleasantly. She seems a lot friendlier then the other bitch, I mean, nurse. Wonder what happened to her?
"Squall Leonhart." She smiles brightly at the name. I frown.
"He's not here right now."
"What?" I swear I tried to keep my voice calm. Was he taken to another hospital? Did he get worse somehow? What happened? Is he-
"He's in the visitor's room."
"He has a visitor?" I didn't think anyone visited him.
"Yes. His father came to see him. I wonder why it's been so long since his last visit...?" She trails off, thinking, her large blue eyes sad. She suddenly brightens. "You can wait for him in his room. It might take awhile, but I'm sure he'll be glad to see you." I grin at her.
"Thanks." I stride down the hall, my path already memorized by my frequent visits.
I didn't want to see him. Why should I when he's abandoned me for a year? Left me in this hell hole. Left me to get confused about why I'm here. If it weren't for me not swallowing my medication, I'd have forgotten everything. But even that didn't totally stop some of the memories from fading. A year spent in this place, and even if you are sane, you begin to question it. It's hard not to when you have people like Zell running around one minute and then slumping dejectedly the next.
It doesn't matter though. I still have to sit here in this fucking wheelchair, which I don't even fuckin' need, while I wait for one of us to talk. If he expects me to speak first, then he's in for a long wait. What's the point of talking to someone that doesn't listen, that doesn't appreciate, respect or even understand you? I almost feel pity for those that talk to others, and their not heard. What's the point? Why waste your breath?
"Squall..." Ahh, here we go. He finally caved. It never did take him that long to start talking. "How are you?" Oh, I'm just fucking great dad. Really peachy. I wish I could stay here forever, I'm just so darn happy. Instead of saying all those pleasantries, I just shrug.
"Ellone's doing w-" He stops when he sees me wince. I didn't mean to, but those kinds of weakness are just unavoidable sometimes. "I know you're probably still mad at her... at us. But can't you forgive us Squall? We didn't want to hurt you. We just thought it would be better for you here." I sigh, and motion for the pen and paper lying on the redwood table between us. He shoves the pad over to me. His brown eyes shine. Probably full of fucking hope. Something I gave up a long time ago. He's obviously hoping that I'll talk to him. That I'll forgive him. Forgive him. As if I would!
I write my reply down on the paper (the nurses finally allowed one hand free so I could 'talk' with my dad. The chains are only loose enough that I can fold my hands in my lap comfortably, but that's it. At least I can read my books). My usual elegant handwriting turned to chicken scratch. Simply because I don't care anymore. 'Would you be 'better' in a place like this?' I toss it back to him. His lids flicker as he reads the short sentence.
He looks up at me, thick shiny black hair shading his eyes from view. There probably filled with despair, or pity. Something along those lines. "Squall... why won't you talk to me? And I really did think you'd get better here." I pluck the notepad out of his loose hold, quickly scribbling my message, and tossing it back to him.
'Don't need to talk. Useless. Waste of breath. How could I get better in a place filled with druggies?' He sighs, and tosses back his hair. I manage to keep the surprise off my face when I see his pale complexion. Dark brown eyes are filled with tears, as I knew they would be. Bruises cover the sensitive skin underneath his eyes. His cheekbones stick out farther then I remembered them. It's definitely a far cry from the tanned muscular man of a year ago. Hell, he almost looks as bad as me.
"It's not a waste to talk Squall. And all these people here must not be druggies..." He trails off, I nod to confirm that, yes, everyone is on some type of drug. "Well... your not... are you?" I give a small smirk and nod. Technically, I'm not on medication. But he doesn't need to know that. He'd probably tell the nurses to watch me more closely, and I hate that brown haired one. She's been on my case since the moment I got here. She was the first nurse to ignore me. I remember a blonde nurse from when I first got here... she seemed really nice. But she was the nurse to the person that was bunking with me. Of course, I have my own signal room now, since all the patients were creeped out by my hand cuffs.
"Oh... well...is it helping you?" I shrug. "Oh...okay." A long silence passes. Maybe he'll leave now? He parts his lips -nope, guess not.
"Have you made any friends here?" I give him a look before I suddenly remember Seifer. A small smile escapes me, and dad grins stupidly. "I knew you'd make some friends here." I shake my head. "Oh...you only have a few friends then?" My hand cuff jingles when I raise my hand slightly and put up a finger. "One?" I nod. "Do you get along well?" I tilt my head, thinking. Do we get along well?
He got me to talk didn't he? And since then he's always listened to me. No matter what I said. He even seemed happier when I would talk more. Though to me it felt like I was babbling. And I do trust him...he let me out of my chair after all. He let me have freedom. I don't care how short that freedom lasted, but it was something.
I finally nod to his question. "That's good!" He exclaims happily. I roll my eyes and sigh. "What's his name?" I sigh and decide to just keep the notebook and write big enough that he can see from across the table. I don't feel like tossing it back all the time.
'Seifer.' Dad's brows furrow. What?
"Seifer...where have I heard that name before?" I frown too. What the hell is he talking about? He sees my confusion and decides to clarify as much as he can. "I remember your mother-" I wince, "used to talk about him. She said she always saw him when she was sitting at the park. He came right up to her and started talking to her. Raine said he was the cutest boy. He was very curious, especially when she mentioned she had a son. He told her that he lived in an orphanage and that all the other children hated him because he was a bully, and he never had a brother before.
"He always wanted to play with you and he kept asking Raine a bunch of question about you. She would have brought him to our...your house (dad wasn't living with us even then) but she knew how reclusive you were and she didn't think you'd appreciate her bringing a stranger over." I shift in my seat. Mom knew Seifer? How long ago was that anyway? I write my question on the pad and show it to him. "I don't remember how many years ago that was. But I know you were around twelve and Seifer was a year older." Huh...so not that long before mom died. I think back to when Seifer and I first went to my room. So that's why he was looking at the picture like that and said she looked familiar. He must have a bad memory though. Considering he was fifteen when he last saw her.
'Did he ever come and visit after mom died?' I was in my room most of the time, so I wouldn't have seen him if he did. Yet dad shakes his head. "No. He seemed to have disappeared when Raine...passed away." Hmm...I wonder if we would have gotten along just as well back then. Maybe he would have stopped Ellone and dad from sending me to this place...
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