Chapter 2: The group

I went back to the mess hall, hoping to find a group of people who also had recreation now to follow. About half of the people in the canteen were exiting it right as I arrived, so I decided to go with them. This led to an outside fenced area, with what seemed to be a football field drawn into the ground and some posts to act as goals. Out of all sports, they choose soccer. Figures.

“Ah, Mr. Hollow.”

How many times was I going to hear that sentence today?

“I see you’ve got your schedule right. G’day, I am your coach, Ms. Roda.”

A short, chubby woman said to me as I turned. Gym coach? Sure you’re not an eating coach? I thought, but bit my tongue, and remained quiet. “Now, you’ve been assigned with a couple others over on that corner there, so if you wouldn’t mind going over to wait there, that would be wonderful.”

Without saying a word, I made my way over. Waiting for me were three lads and a lass, all wearing tank tops and shorts, which contrasted greatly with my jeans and polo shirt. I took off my leather jacket and hung it on the fence nearby.

“So, you the new kid, eh?” Said the only one with any muscle on their arms.

“No, I’m the other random guy they threw in here last minute.” I replied, leaving the sarcasm out of my voice, just to mess with them. Indeed, they seemed confused before he, who seemed to be the gang leader, took a step forward, his long brown hair swishing with the wind.

“Think you’re funny, eh? You’re not, kiddo.”

“The fact that you’re trying to intimidate me and call me a kid implies you’re scared of me. Ye’ can’t be scared of a wee kid now can ye’?”

I let my Scottish brogue slide slightly with that sentence, while keeping my tone monotone.

“No, shut up. You ain’t smart.”

“Wowzers, fantastic response, absolutely magnificent. Look, I’ve been shoved into your group, so stop trying to look cool and work with me here, okay?”

Any answer he had was cut off by Ms Roll-down-the-hill calling out.

"Okay, everybody begin jogging around the courtyard, gotta get warmed up!” She yelled.

I rolled my eyes and began running, my lean body and strong legs allowing me to go at a good pace, my silver hair whooshing in sync with my steps, bouncing on my shoulders as I ran. I looked back. None of my group was keeping pace with me. I saw other groups jogging about, all bunched up. I soon overtook one and became worried. What if we were meant to stay together? Surely I'd be warned if that was the case. 

I wasn’t the only one going so fast, there was another group of girls that was keeping pace with me. I took that as a green flag, and kept moving.

About five minutes later, Roda called it. I jogged back to my group slowly, panting slightly.

“Ok, you got some legs, I'll give you that.” One said. I ignored them, instead looking at the meatball for our next instruction.

“Alright everyone, today's dodgeball. Group up into two teams.” I turned to my group.

“The fuck was this group thing for then?”

 “To get us to socialize as we run.” The girl said. “Since you're new, they put you with us.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” 

Before anyone could answer, another group approached us. 

“Hey, so, your group, our group and those guys.” He jerked a thumb towards another team. “What do you say?

“We're in. That's a win in my books.” Said our group’s leader. Interesting. We lined up for dodgeball and the first shot was thrown.

The game unfolded regularly, with both sides tagging around an equal amount of people. I won’t bother recording most of it here since it was so boring Roda almost fell asleep on the bench she was watching from. I was never even targeted for the majority of the game, only being noticed near the end. By then, I had one teammate remaining, which was great. The other team had five members still. I sighed. Seemed I'd have to actually do something, unfortunately. Did I even want to spend energy on this? Guess I had to make myself look useful. 

As my remaining partner got tagged, coach threw a second ball into the fray. Just what I needed. I cartwheeled away from the first throw, before jumping over a shot to my legs. I now had both balls on my side. But I was built for speed, not strength. If I aimed well, which no doubt I would, I'd get my ball caught and lose. I just wasn't strong enough to throw it with enough speed. So I purposefully missed both shots. I'd find an opportune moment to score a shot. Meanwhile, I had to play the waiting game. I calmly dodged the next few shots, though I was beginning to tire.

Finally, I found an opening. The remaining girl on the opposing team was distracted for a wee second. I used that to my advantage, and a few seconds later, I had four enemies remaining. Only three of them were actually shooting, the other one was just standing there, eyes fixated on my throws. Their dodger. I thought. Then both balls were thrown at me in sync. I leaped out of the way, landing in an awkward angle. If I hadn’t had both balls on my side, I would’ve been tagged for sure at that moment. I got up with a grunt, and grabbed both balls, leaving one on the ground next to me. I faked having a more serious injury than I really did, and used that distraction to tag one of the three main players. It worked. Each time, my teammates' hype increased. Hopeless fools. Hyped about a dodgeball game. I thought. At least I’d be earning their respect by winning. 

With three left on their team, I decided to take no risks and just wait it out. Eventually the game would either end because Mrs. Watermelon said so, or they’d tire out and I’d be able to catch a ball. Just had to hope I didn’t tire before they did.

One guy, shaggy hair, tall and muscular, spun around while jumping, trying a trickshot. Nit impressed, I easily caught it.

“Thanks.” I said. His face fell. His teammates giggled.

With two more left, I’d have to be more careful. I knew they wouldn’t be as confident and careless anymore.

But one made a mistake. He threw the ball at my feet, hoping I’d duck. Which I did. And caught the ball as well. His eyes widened. So did mine. I wasn’t expecting to actually manage, the ball has been coming quite fast. Well, three down, two left. Their last shooter sized me up, taking her time to throw. She aimed carefully. I shifted around, trying not to give him a clear target. Eventually, she went for it. A shot straight to my groin. With half a second to react, I dropped dead onto the floor, narrowly dodging the attack. But there was another ball. Still on the floor, I rolled on instinct, and my gut was true to me. She immediately grabbed and threw the second ball, which also missed me by centimeters. I got up, dusted my jacket, and picked up both balls. I left one on the cement beside me and stared at my opponent, and threw at their dodger. The thrower leaped out of the way, but the ball soared true, and hit its target point blank. The crowd cheered, but I wasn’t done. I picked up the second ball. The thrower spent a second getting her bearings, confused. Big mistake. A few seconds later it was over.

 My group erupted in roars and cheers. Let them have their happy moment. They could use it. I shouldered the ones that tried to group up on me to cheer. I wasn't big on physical contact. But I did bump fists with those who wanted.

“ALRIGHT. Eeeeeeverybody inside, go back to your schedules.” Mrs. Roda said. I swear someone would mistake her for a cake pop and take a bite out of her someday. Not that she looked very appetizing. 

“Hey kid!’ I recognized that voice. The girl from the group I had been put in previously approached me when I was about to enter the facility. I turned to see her group walking towards me. Fantastic. “Seems you're once more with us for group therapy. We're stuck with you, so we might as well show you the ropes.”

“Not much of a talker, is he?” Said the tall boy, an Aussie accent shining through. “Just follow us, ol’ chap, and don’t you worry. We don’t bite… much.”

“Way to scare the old fellow, eh?” Said the girl. “Don’t worry, we’re not as bad as Daren makes us look. I’m Aria, by the way.” She stretched out her hand.

As much as I hated physical contact, I wouldn’t refuse a good handshake.

“Welcome to our group, I guess.”

“Oh, so now I’m a part of… this?” I waved my hand toward them. “Aye?”
“Well, I’m sorry. You gonna get all fussy about it, eh?” Said Aria.

“Excuse them, I’m Sam.” Said the one with the long hair. “And he’s William.”

“Hollow. Elijah Hollow.” I said, shaking his hand too.

“No,” Daren said. “There is no chance your surname is Hollow.”

“It’s cool though,” William said softly.

“Not real though.” Daren claimed.

“My legal name is Elijah Hollow, and I will not have you mocking it.”

“Okay, chill out.” Daren backed up, not losing pace with us as we entered a room.

“Welcome,” Sam once again interrupted. “To group therapy.” He opened his arms.

“What do people here have with announcing random bullshit like it’s important?” I murmured.

“Ah, welcome. I see we have a new member.” A female voice said. I looked up to find a slender woman with short, jet-black hair, huge chest, and round, Harry Potter-like glasses smiling at us.

“I’m Amber Rotterblade, your therapist.”

I turned to face Daren.

“And you think my surname’s stupid?”

“Well, now that’s quite rude. Begin by apologizing, and we’ll swiftly move on to the session.”

I stared at Daren.

“She’s talking to you, you know?” He told me.

I knew. I just didn’t want to.

“Sorry, Rotterblade.” I finally said. No point wasting time.

“Good. Now, sit down, let’s talk.” She happily stated. Wonderful.

“So, what’s your name?”

“Hollow. Elijah Hollow.” I repeated, tired.

“Well, I assume you’ve introduced yourself to your group as well. We’ll do a calm session today to get you started. So, what brings you to Woodsworth, Elijah?”

"Many things.”

“...You going to elaborate?” She asked when I didn’t continue. Very unprofessional.

“I'm fine, thank you.”

“You do know what this is for, right?”

“I am aware.” I kept my answers curt and impassive.

“Would you mind cooperating, then?”

“I do not want to spend the next many sessions talking about myself. It's group therapy. But I'd need to in order to answer that question.” My baritone voice, though soft as always, carried a menacing air to it.

“Alright.” Rotterblade clapped her hands, visibly shook. “William, how have your new antidepressants been holding up? Has Aria's smoking been triggering your PTSD much?”

“They've actually been helping a lot, thank you.”

“And you, Elijah.” She turned to me. “Do you suffer from any such conditions?”

“I have depression, yes. Years of familial abuse and being the laughingstock of any school I went to does that to you,” I calmly answered.

“Oh, wow. Ok.” Rotterblade said, clearly uncomfortable with my lackadaisical approach.

“Shit that lands you in an asylum, aye?” I said dryly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked.“Been there, done that. Waste of time.” I replied.

“Have you ever thought of... well…”

“Suicide? Tried it. One way ticket to my first M.H. That was.”

“Ok, do these thoughts persist, Elijah?”

“If I hadn't been bounced from one ever-vigilant asylum to the next every six months, I probably would be dead now.”

“He says it like it's the most normal thing in the world!” Aria exclaimed. She banged her fist on the wall. “The fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Am I supposed to apologize?” I asked.

“Elijah, come now, you want to talk about your traumas?” Rotterblade said in a soothing voice.

“As I said, not worth the time.”

“I disagree. Come on, we're listening.”

“It's useless.” I insisted. “Let's do something useful with this session, please.”

“Ok, and what's your idea of useful?” Finally, an interesting question. I paused for a second.

“Something worth the time and effort spent on it.” I finally stated.

“And you do not believe talking about you would fulfill that requirement?”

“I do not enjoy repeating myself.” I replied coolly.

“Maybe we could focus on boosting your empathy, since you seem to be lacking in that regard.”

"Good luck with that.” I muttered. 

“If you don't cooperate, we're not going anywhere here.”

“Then deal with the people who will cooperate, Rotterblade. You're useless to me, just like everyone else has ever been.” I stated, irritation seeping through. Rotterblade was clearly exasperated by my attitude, and she threw her arms in the air. 

“Fine! For now. So, where had we left off?” Again, very unprofessional. I was really getting under her skin.

“Actually, we were just talking about Aria’s smoking and the freedom granted in this... mental hospital. That’s a good topic to tackle with Elijah.” Sam said. Uuugh.

“Ah, yes. So, Elijah, in this institute, if you’ve read your schedule, you’ll have realized you have a bit of free time. Not counting things like leaving, you can borderline do anything you want during these. Eat (you’d need a way to get food, but there are ways), sleep, and much more. We like to keep our patients happy, and we believe that to be the best way. For example, Aria is allowed to smoke whenever she pleases. She usually doesn’t since she hangs around William, and he’s got... issues with smoking.” A black market for grub. In the most secure asylum. Fascinating. I thought. Her nervousness when talking told me there was more to it than that, but I wasn’t going to complain. She was definitely hiding something though. The entire place was.

“Alright.” I replied.

“...no questions?” She asked.

“Not sure what would be unclear. Bit weird for the so-called ‘most secure asylum in the world’, but I’m not going to complain.”

“That’s what they call this place? PFFFT.” Daren laughed. “This place is so chill!” Alarm bells rang all around my brain. I hadn’t misinformed myself. There was something amiss here.

“Yeah, just relax bro, let loose. This place is fire.” Said William before making a face. He touched his wrist, where I’d previously noticed a scar lay.

“Parents died in a fire, eh? Firefighters or just unlucky?” I asked. His reaction was priceless; his eyes became plates and he backed up. “HOW THE FUCK?!” He yelled.

“You’ve an aversion to fire, and you clutch your wrist with a burn mark on it constantly, not hard to put two and two together.” I said, remaining calm. “So? Which was it?” His eyes remained wide, but he relaxed slightly.

“I... don’t want to talk about it.”

“Understandable.” I turned to Rotterblade. “See? I’m not the only one.” She made a motion.

“Elijah, mind if we... talk for a moment?” She beckoned me.

“Sure.” Once we were a bit apart, she tried to put a hand on my shoulder. I stepped away.

“No physical contact, please.”

“Elijah, that’s the most anyone has ever gotten out of him.” She glanced at William.

“Really? Wasn’t that hard to figure out.”

“Elijah! This is important.” She kept her voice low, but stern.

“Congrats. I barely just met the guy, you know?” I answered nonchalantly.

“You are making things much harder than they need to be.” She said, clearly agitated. It was amusing to see what little it took for some people.

“I think things are pretty easy.” I said.“Argh, look.” She said, rubbing her eye bridge. “What you did was very inconsiderate.”

“And how was I supposed to know he’d react that way?”

“Haven’t you met William?”

“Only by name. I was put in here just this morning.”

“Ok, that makes sense. William is extremely reserved and doesn’t like talking about why he's here, so don’t push, ok?”

“Says the one that pushed hard on me to talk.” I answered, annoyed.

“I didn’t want two Williams, ok? Hard enough to do therapy with one.” She muttered.

“Then don’t and fuck off. Not like it ever helps.” I realized I may have gone too far.

“Elijah! We’re done here, get back to your seat.” I obeyed without a snarky response. No point in angering her more. 

“Alright, I think we're ending today's session early. Go... do whatever. I need to think.” We all got up and I took out my schedule. We had the rest of the day free. Perfect.