Psychosis || Grayson Dolan - Book One

XIX

Sunday, June 16

You rolled out of bed with the intent of doing something productive today. Kissing a mental patient was not it. Your alarm ruined the slight happiness you acquired during your eight-hour sleep.

As you lay in your bed, your phone goes off with a text notification. You hadn't checked your phone since lastnight before you went to bed, so you had other notifications to check like; Instagram, Snapchat, Texts.

Your phone displayed an urgent message from Stella.

________________________________________________
Stella 💜                                                                 1m
We need to hang out ASAP bitch. Text me when
you wake up
________________________________________________

You laugh at the bluntness of your bestfriend and put your phone back, feeling your eyelids become heavy again. Your mind urged your body to fall back asleep, but you couldn't.

You needed to spend the day with your best friend because you had a lot to tell her.

Of course she knew about your job, but she didn't know about the people inside of it... Especially not Grayson. You wanted so bad to tell her, but you knew that you couldn't until there was a possibility that he was innocent of his murders. Which, by your terms, he isn't. Not even close. But, he will be free in fourteen days... That's close enough to 'innocent' right?

You sit up in your bed, pushing the covers off of you. The cold air blasting from your air conditioning made you shiver slightly. Your shorts and t-shirt did not help to block out the frigid cold either.

You get out of your bed and walk to your window, turning of the air conditioner, feeling little warmth begin to wash over your body. Your eyes wander outside, the cold glass was the only thing between you and the hot summer air. You loved summer, but not as much as fall. Fall in Nevada wasn't too cold, but it wasn't scorching hot either.

You sigh and walk to your bathroom, turning on the water. As it warms up, you run back to your room to grab your phone, sending a quick text to Stella.

'Meet me at Starbucks in a hour'

Once you send the text, you place your phone back on the charger and head to take a shower.

"This is gonna be hell" you say aloud, referring to the fact that you have to tell your best friend about your secret love life. With a psychotic murderer.

Grayson's POV

Fourteen more days.

That's all i have left in this place.

I haven't seen Y/n since the day of my appeal. Damn, that was a good day. Until i ruined it.

Told her to leave. And she did. Which is okay, i mean... It's for her safety. The poor girl could potentially be a victim of mine. I can't do that to her. She's innocent.

Her parents would be devastated if i did that. I would also end up back here, or in jail. And i don't want that.

Since Thursday, i've been moved down to the release floor. It's so much cleaner and homier than up on the seventh floor.

They gave me a box with all of my old clothes and momentos that i came with. When you're subjected into a mental institution, they let you have belongings of yours. I haven't seen mine for two years. The box was currently sitting on the edge of my bed- a comfortable bed.

I'm sitting on the other side, glaring at it.

I forget what's inside. I know if i open it, there won't be good things. I was in a bad state of mind when i came here. I was delusional, still thinking that Stacy was alive and we would be married. With kids, eventually.

All that was still imprinted in my brain when i was admitted. Lord only knows what the hell i put in that damn box.

"Open it" he tells me.

"I can't."

The beauty of this floor is that i actually have a seperate room from everyone else. The door closes and isn't open to the world with a small barred square. No one can hear me, except me.

"Open the damn box" he yells. I wish i could rid myself of him, but i don't know how.

"What if there's things in there that set off the urges?" My brain goes quiet.

He has no answer. I sigh and lean forward, pulling myself closer to the box. It sits idle on top of the off-white comforter. The taped top was pre-cut down the middle, so it'd be easier for me to open.

I lightly pull back the left top flap of the box, seeing a navy blue sweatshirt. It was detailed with a football detail, my old high school name on the front. I pull it out, turning it around. 'Dolan' was printed in white capital letters on the back. It brought back nice memories.

I set it aside, then notice a photo album that my mom gave to me. I know what's inside, but i can't look. Pictures of me and my family. Me and Stacy... My mom gave it to me as a reminder of what i've done.

She said it was a punishment for my horrible actions. Neither her nor my dad have visited me since i was admitted. Ethan came a few times though. He usually checks up on me every couple months.

I pull out the photo album and set it aside, just like the sweatshirt.

Three old letters from Stacy's mom were underneath the album. Damn, was she angry.

The first one was full of harsh words. She told me how i deserved what i had gotten and that Stacy was such a good girl. She didn't deserve death. I wrote her back after that one, telling her i agreed with everything she had to say. I did deserve to be institutionalized. I did deserve hell for what i had done. To Stacy and Troy. His parents never tried contacting me. I wonder if he had any.

That's the thing about it, i didn't even think about whether that was someone's son. I just stabbed him to death.

The second letter was Stacy's mom telling me she always saw me as a son to her. It was full of written-out memories.

The third one was absolutely heart-breaking. It was extremely short. I can't remember the whole thing, and i won't open it, but the last part said;

'You took everything from me in one night. My daughter wasn't the best fiancé to you, but she sure as hell did not deserve death. You do.'

I agreed with that as well, but i never told her that. Those letters came within my first five months here. None after that. I always wondered what happened to her. Did the depression get to her? Did she move on with her life? How are her and her husband?

I take out the letters and tuck them inside the cover of the album. My wallet was at the very bottom, along with a pair of jeans.

I look at the items on my bed, not wanting to rekindle the memories that are held inside the pages of that damn photo album.

I gather the stuff and place it back in the box, i then get up and carry it to the corner of my room. This room was about the same size as my cell was, but my bed is much nicer. The walls are white, the window is larger, but still barred off. The bars were thin rectangles and painted white.

This room felt like home.

Speaking of home, i miss Y/n. She made me feel normal. She had the same comfort to me as Dirk did. But then again, it's her job.

Word Count- 1306