Chapter 5

A few hours later, I was in class, resting my chin on my hands again. I chose the chair near the window so I could look out whenever I wanted. It was my escape.

“Anna,” Emilie whispered behind me.

“Yeah…”

“You didn't help me with my French yesterday; my evaluation is this afternoon.”

“I'm sorry I forgot.”

“Can you explain at least some things to me over lunch?”

“Okay…”

“Thank you! Thank you! You are a sweetheart.”

Professor Ryan continued talking about the different religions that exist in the world while I looked at a tree in the garden.

“Cowards will not enter the kingdom of heaven…” I remembered the hooded man's words from the night before. Who was he? I was sure he was a patient here, but what was he doing on the roof of the girls' wing? An image came to my mind: his grey eyes and those thick lips. That was all I could see of him. I sighed; I had to stop thinking about this stranger.

The rest of the day was the usual routine; more classes. I had a little fun teaching Emilie French during lunch; she wasn’t very good at languages. I left my last class, and we headed to the dorms. Emilie kept me company as she told me about her home. I was holding my books to my chest, paying attention to her story.

“I yelled ‘Stop it!’ but he kept bothering me,” Emilie said, laughing. I felt someone approaching and turned my head forward.

I stopped abruptly: A thin but well-defined boy was coming toward us; he was wearing the uniform of the psychiatric hospital: a blue shirt and matching pants. He looked ridiculously fit, with the muscles of his arms defined but not exaggerated. He had his hand inside the pockets of his pants, and I recognized him immediately. It was him... it was the hooded boy.

He had a very attractive face: a sharp nose and perfect, defined cheekbones. He had thick eyebrows, as dark as his messy hair that fell around his ears and forehead. He had unique grey eyes and those full lips that I remembered so well.

He walked toward us, looking at me, disinterest clear in his expression. He passed me by, and I swear I saw him smile.

“Anna? Hello?” Emilie's voice brought me back to reality.

“Huh?” Emilie giggled.

“He totally dazzled you,” she added, smiling at me. “He's handsome, isn't he?”

“He…”

“Ah, it's a shame he doesn't talk.”

“What?” I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Yes, something happened to him, and he stopped talking. I don't know the whole story; I think he's new. He's the son of the director of the psychiatric hospital, so that's why he can walk around the girls' wing sometimes.”

“Why was he admitted here?”

“That's a very good question; I have my conspiracy theories about it. I think it's post-traumatic stress because he stopped talking for a reason. Something bad happened to him.”

“Wow, you've become quite the psychologist.”

“Thanks.”

My mind was still reeling from what she had just said. He wasn't talking? I was sure he had spoken to me the night before. It was him, wasn't him? I couldn't be wrong; those grey eyes were unique.

I arrived at my room even more curious than before. I sat up in bed and wrapped my hands around my legs, pulling them toward my chest. I rested my chin on my knees. I sighed, falling back onto my comfortable pillows. I was waiting to go to the bonfire.

I covered my head with a pillow but then pulled it off to let out a breath of air.

My eyes found the ceiling. I struggled to find a motivation to go, to push myself just a little bit harder. Most people associate depression with sadness, but it's so much more than that. A depressed person isn't always locked in a room crying with the lights off. Sometimes, it's that girl you see smiling in class, talking to everyone; or that joking boy who makes you laugh. They wear masks, and they can project joy even if it's not genuine.

Depression can only be measured in greyscale; there is no black and white when it comes to the human mind, which is so complex and indecipherable. It is also a common misconception that we all handle depression in the same way. Our minds are unique; I will never understand why, if we can see that we are physically different, we find it so hard to believe that we deal with our problems differently.

For me, being depressed was like seeing life through a fog, not being able to feel or remember why it matters to still be here, wondering what the purpose of it all is. Life literally becomes meaningless, and living each day is a constant battle, like you are always drowning.

Oh, and the pain...

There is no physically caused pain that can match it. It's like a void in your chest that consumes and takes everything away, taking everything from you.

I closed my eyes and remembered the nightmares. No, I didn't want to sleep; I didn't want another nightmare. I didn't want to hear that voice; I didn't want to see the blood. I got up; I had to go. I needed something to entertain me. I needed to see something other than these four walls. Maybe, by distracting my mind, I would be able to scare away the nightmares.

Determined, I waited for Lyra to go to the bonfire.