I Know You
Orion wasnât quite used to Knollwood yet. To be quite truthful, he wasnât sure heâd ever be used to it. This wasnât to say that he was unfamiliar with captivity though because for his entire life, heâd known little else. Trapped within the walls of his own house, Rion knew well the arch of ceiling in exchange of clouded sky, the rise of monotonously painted walls instead of tree trunks, and the feel of cold, sterile linoleum beneath his feet where he imagined warm, itchy grass to be. As time passed, Rion was eventually allowed time outdoors. Or at least enough time to acquaint himself with it beyond just the view from his bedroom window.
So, yes, Rion was used to Knollwood already or, at least, the parts of it he associated with home: the barren halls, the vacant faces, the chilly rooms. The void. But now when he was let outside, it wasnât to help relieve his symptoms. No, there was none of that anymore. Because he was pieced together wrong, wasnât he? Assembled inappropriately, the square peg of his sadism mashed into the round hole where his conscience should be. There was a reason why the blackout hadnât frightened him. And he was it. He knew some of the other patients were dangerous, but the doctors told him that so was he. And shouldnât he have taken comfort from that?
He didnât know what to think. What to believe.
It was why he had gone outside at the first opportunity heâd been given. He needed time, needed space, to think about where he was and why. Who were the people he spent time with? Or the people he was supposed to consider his superiors? So many thoughts crowded his mind as he leaned against a pillar of the asylumâs gazebo, taking minor comfort and brief reprieve as he found a ladybug and squashed it beneath his thumb. His small peace was broken though as he heard a voice behind him. Startled, he whipped around quickly, wiping the remnants of the bug on his pants as he did. âN-no, no! Itâs fine,â he blurted out quickly. âIâm just - .â He paused, trying to come up with an excuse. âHere.â He finished dumbly.
As the girl continued to speak again though, he recognized her voice. Eyebrows furrowed, he nodded. âYour voice. I - . I might have tripped over you?â Unsure of himself, the statement came out more as a question. It was then that he noticed she was a staff member and he blushed a light pink, his embarrassment for having stumbled over her worsened. âS-sorry about that.â
He seemed utterly taken aback by her presence, and Keira felt appropriately guilty. She had stunned the guy, bringing him from whatever peaceful reverie he had found to a state of surprise. She grimaced internally. Heaven knew they all had had enough surprises to last a lifetime, but unfortunately this would have to be added to the list. Her mouth drew upwards at his acceptance of her apology, finding the expression fluid and effortless.
Almost imperceptibly though, she narrowed her eyes, sweeping them expertly over his features. It was quite possible the young man before her was new, but then again, Keira wasnât exactly tenured herself. From visual cues alone, he was a stranger. By all accounts, then, she should not have known him, but something about the brown-haired boy felt familiar. It niggled in the back of her mind, just out of reach, and would not have ceased pestering her until it was appeased. Thankfully, he saved her from any further agony.
âOh!â she cried, snapping her fingers in victory. She nodded in self-assurance, knowing without doubt that he was correct â they had bumped into each other, quite literally, before. The memory brought a wide smile to her face. âYou almost took my eye out, I think,â she teased, forgetting herself momentarily in lieu of his uncertainty. She didnât know his case, had no idea if he took well to any sort of joking, so knew she walked on dangerous ground. Still, her pity overrode her sense, and she aimed to make him content.
âNo harm, no foul,â she said with a shrug, smiling all the while. Talkative and social though she normally was, there was something about him that drew her in. Perhaps it was something about his reserved nature, or the way he didnât seem altogether comfortable in his own skin. It pricked at her compassion, but also intrigued her. Who was this boy who sought solitude rather than the company of others?
âI donât think I remember your name,â she stated apologetically, softly, a question buried shallow in her gentle tone.Â
