I�ve just finished reading what Chester�s written above this on my notepad, in his neat writing. I have to thank him for recording what happened � I want that memory to live on. Oh, and it�s me, Mike, writing again. Yeah, I woke up in a bed with Chester again this morning � and no, nothing happened between us. I don�t swing that way. I�m pretty sure Chester doesn�t either. Chester beat me to consciousness this morning too, and when I woke up he was watching me. It seems funny, now, considering I did the exact same thing to him only the night before. Night, morning, whatever it was. It all starts to blur into one after a while.

And Chester�s reading this over my shoulder, looking interested. (He�s now giving me a glare capable of melting solid steel. He�s just punched me in the arm, playfully though. I laugh.) The others are playing Blackjack again � from what I can hear Rob is winning.

�Blackjack,� Rob announces, revealing his hand � the queen of hearts and the ace of clubs.

�Rob always wins,� Brad whines.

�I do not always win,� retorts Rob, but Joe is already dealing the next game. I pay attention to it to see if Rob�s words are true. Joe turns one of his cards face up � it�s a six, of diamonds.

Chester�s leaning over me and breathing down my neck. �Back off, Chester, my neck�s getting cooked!�

He�s backed off a little, but he reaches over and �

Joe will win.

- snatches the pencil and writes that fascinating prediction. I�m gonna see if that is true now.

�Stick,� Rob says, his face perfectly straight, not hinting at what he holds.

Brad hits twice, then sticks.

Phoenix has to hit only once before he sticks.

Joe hits twice and then sticks. He pulls a face and makes a displeased noise. �Okay people, show us what you�ve got. Twenty one to win.�

Joe�s hand consists of that six of diamonds, an ace of hearts, an eight of hearts and a five of diamonds. Interesting � all red cards.

Brad drops his hand onto the bunk. �Eighteen.�

�Sixteen.� Phoenix sighs as he too discards his hand onto the bunk.

�Nineteen. Who said I always win?� Rob asks, revealing his hand, which consists of three black cards only. Brad and Phoenix have hands of mixed colours.

�Not bad,� I say, and Chester smirks. The back page just got ripped out again.

I have a knack for that.

�You�d be handy to have around in a strip poker game then,� I joked. He grins. Joe and Rob are the only ones close enough to hear that and laugh also. Brad and Phoenix are talking and so don�t notice.

�What�s to do today?� Rob twiddles with his tunic sleeve.

�Whaddya wanna do? Go for a walk in the meadow, visit the library��

�We can visit the meadow?� Rob�s eyes have lit up. I nod slowly.

�Of course we can � I mean, the fence is only ten feet tall, well away from the trees, and electrified � we�re relatively well boxed in.�

�Joy,� says Brad in that sarcastic tone of his. Rob ignores it.

�Let�s go then,� he says. �I want to get some fresh air.�

�Don�t blame you,� I mutter before heading for the door. Chester is half a step behind me, and the others follow at a more modest distance.

I wonder if Chester�s attached to me by an invisible rope. The thought is amusing � what would happen if one of us wanted a shower?

The sun is shining for once as we step out onto the short, freshly cut grass. I find it fascinating that only the nurses have hay fever � not the inmates, not security � but every nurse we have has hay fever. Personally I love the flowers; they show how kind and beautiful nature can be.

Rob and Joe instantly take off at a sprint across the grass. I notice they�re barefoot as they chase each other, and just generally leap about like little kids. I understand their actions � sometimes it�s nice to act like a little kid at times. Brad rolls onto the grass, and just lies there, and Phoenix sits next to him, talking softly to him. I walk a short distance away from them, then turn to Chester.

�The dream,� I say, sharply, and he winces, following my train of thought. �How did you know I would dream of you again?�

I knew because� I put them into your mind.

�How?�

It�s a skill I have� I can manipulate people�s dreams, but to different extents with different people. It was easier with you. The others are heavily guarded. Plus, you were the only one I trusted.

�Are you calling me easy?� I joked, and then became serious again. �Why did you show me that, Chester?�

You wanted to know why I don�t talk � that was the only way.

�It didn�t tell me a thing.�

Whenever I spoke something bad would happen to me, usually. I just stopped talking.

Chester looks pained having put that onto paper. I put the notepad down and the pencil with it. Suddenly I get pushed to the ground. With a startled and girly squeak, I roll, and look up into Chester�s dark eyes, which are glinting with a wicked sparkle. I get his aims. He wants to play. And I find that I want to let him, so I roll out from beneath him and push him down myself. Chester twists in my grasp and I end up landing first, Chester landing over my body. He kicks himself off me and into a standing position swiftly and I lever myself up to a sitting position, squinting to see him past the bright sunlight. Joe and Rob have settled down and are talking themselves. Only Chester and me are playing now.

With a feral snarl I launch myself at Chester, taking him down. He squirms out of my grasp and we roll across the grass. This game continues for some time, until Rob calls to us.

�Guys, come on, let�s go!�

Looking sheepish I stand up and dust myself off, Chester doing the same. Joe has a wicked grin on his face.

�I do hope we�re not interrupting anything�� he says slowly and most deliberately.

I whack him upside the head with my notepad as I pass him, and Chester lightly smacks him across the back of the head. Joe rubs where our blows hit then follows us inside.

�So, did you and Chester enjoy that little, er, romp outside?�

I open my mouth to yell at him but before I can do so a pencil flies from somewhere beneath me and bounces off the side of Joe�s head. OK, so Chester�s not asleep. I close my mouth with an audible click.

Chester throws himself off his bunk and into the bathroom and the others watch.

�Well. That was new,� Phoenix remarked.

I just sighed, glared at Joe and chased after Chester, taking his notepad (I had donated one of my spare ones to him) and my pencil.

Chester was leaning on the basin. I locked the door behind me and tapped him on the shoulder. His eyes rose to mine but as usual, he was silent. Calmly, I hand him the pencil and paper. He takes them and writes something quickly.

Why can we not have and indeed be friends without the gay jokes?

�I�m sure Joe doesn�t mean it.�

It still hurts.

�Want me to talk to him about it?�

No.

�Then what?�

I don�t know.

�Chester, y�know� I�ll always be here if you need me.�

I know. Don�t worry, I�ll be out soon.

I wanted to say more, but I knew it would not help. So I left quietly. Chester pushed the door shut behind me and went back to the basin. I already know something�s wrong, but for some reason I don�t force him to do anything. I just leave him to his temper. As I walk back into the main bedroom part, Rob has just won again.

�I swear you cheat. You must do!� Phoenix says, looking annoyed. Rob smiles.

�I don�t cheat. I play a fair game as do you and Brad and Joe.�

I picked up an errant thought from Rob though. And I understood why he was so good. The thought said simply: �The cards are reflected in your eyes.�

Rob looks at me and suddenly he realises I know his secret. I wink � I will not expose him. He smiles at me then turns back to the game. I drop onto Chester�s bunk � mine�s too high up and Chester won�t mind anyway.

�I�ve noticed,� remarked Phoenix, �That since being locked in here I haven�t hallucinated once.�

�Hey, since we got moved here and you guys joined us, I haven�t had any of my phobias kick in,� Brad noted. Joe eyed his sheets, which were hanging in a totally untidy manner from the bunk.

�I think it�s obvious I�m not as obsessive-compulsive as I used to be.�

�No paranoia, but then again that�s nothing new,� I chipped in. Rob�s eyes sparkled as he spoke. �Since I�ve met you guys� all of you� things have, kinda like� well, changed. I� my depression�s not come back.�

�Faaaaaaascinating,� I drawled, much like one of our more annoying psychiatrists. Instantly four pillows were hurled at my head � two hit me in the torso and the others missed.

�Shut up!� came the unanimous yell from my friends. A split second later, another sound joined to the end of their cry. The sound of glass�.

The sound of glass shattering.

I leapt to my feet and ran to Chester, to the bathroom, knowing already that it was where the sound had come from. I was focused on only one thing � was Chester OK? Even if we weren�t gay, as Joe would have loved, I still cared for him. He�s bared his soul to me. I owe the poor guy something.

I found Chester lying on the floor, surrounded by tiny shards of glass � the shattered remnants of the mirror. Blood trickled from Chester�s right hand and down his arm, some staining the floor. But it was the sounds that struck me.

Chester was sobbing hysterically.

Real, gasped, choked sobs of hysteria, much like my own when I had a session with the other mirror. It was one of the few times Chester made a sound, except for when he whimpered in his sleep. I picked Chester out from the glass and carried him back into the bedroom, pulling him onto his bunk and letting him cry into my shoulder. But his sobs got worse.

Before long Chester had reduced himself to all out screaming, screams of rage and fear, which was the stronger emotion I do not know. A nurse burst through the door and walked over to Chester, shaking him roughly in my arms. She spoke in a normal voice but it didn�t get through.

�MR BENNINGTON!� she roared sharply after about seven failed attempts in a normal tone. Chester stopped screaming, but he still cried against my shoulder.

�Finally. You were making enough noise to wake the dead. Now what is going on?� and she placed her hands on her hips, then spotted Chester�s bloody hand. �Oh My God, what happened here?�

�The mirror was broken when I went in, I presume he punched it and the glass shattered and cut his hand.� I wished for venom or a glare that could kill, so I could get rid of the nurse. She blinked then moved to place a hand on Chester�s shoulder.

�Mr Bennington, come with me, we�ll see to that hand of yours, OK? Get it all nice and clean for you, how does that sound?�

Chester shook her off, and she replaced her hand and tried to pull him away from me. In response, Chester�s fingers latched on to my bloodstained tunic and he began screaming again, screaming in a furious temper� but there was a large portion of fear in his cry. My ears rang. The nurse leapt back. She traded words with Rob for a moment whilst I tried to calm Chester down. His face was red from screaming and blotchy from crying. The nurse left.

�She�ll be back, she�s just gone to get some bandages. She�s gonna patch Chester up here,� Rob�s voice told me and I hugged the breathless Chester close, providing him with the comfort and warmth he needed. His sobs were silent now.

�OK,� I replied.

The nurse was less than pleased when she came back, and I don�t blame her. Chester�s enraged scream still rings in my ears. Yet Chester sat there meekly and allowed her to bandage his hand whilst two cleaners took down the frame for the mirror and swept up the shards. A third mopped Chester�s blood from the floor. I will never forget the look of desperation and misery on Chester�s face as that blood oozed from his wounded hand. Then, without a word, they are gone. We�re alone again.

Joe seems a little embarrassed, as he approaches Chester. Chester�s eyes lock on Joe�s form as he kneels down next to the bunk, looking at Chester.

�Look� I realise what I said wasn�t too kind� and I�m really sorry � � and here Joe is almost crying. � � Can ya forgive me? I�ll never make a joke like that again��

Chester picks up his notepad and a pencil and scrawls a response. His handwriting is shaky and the letters are hard to read.

It�s not your fault. I�m not angry at you.

Joe looks relieved but curious. He has the sense not to question it however, and just nods, leaving me to sit next to Chester on his bunk. I say nothing. There is nothing TO say. Instead, I write. I write a song, remembering Chester�s dream images that I saw that night. I looked back at what I had written later, and it shocked me.

Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real.
There�s something inside me that pulls beneath the surface,
Consuming, confusing.
This lack of self-control I fear is never ending,
Controlling, I can�t seem
To find myself again, my walls are closing in
(Without a sense of confidence, I�m convinced there�s just too much pressure to take)
I�ve felt this way before
So insecure

There was more but that was enough to convey the general gist of the song. Silently I show it to Chester. He reads it and it takes forever for him to complete that simple task. His response is written in shaky handwriting, and a tear soaks the paper before he hands it to me.

Thank You.

I nod. I understand now why I wrote that song. I wrote it to help Chester. But what gave me the idea to do so I have no idea.

Chester�s manner is still a mystery to me, as is his episode earlier, with the screaming and hysteria.

To Be Continued

Back to Fan Fic | Prologue | Ch 1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5

Hosted by www.Geocities.ws