|Ted (i_worknumbers) wrote in we_coexist,|
@ 2011-01-02 00:27:00
|Entry tags:||charlie crews, in arkham, ted earley|
Good Friends and Good Pills (Charlie)
Things had been weird. Ted felt weird. If he turned his head too quickly, things started to tilt. It wasn't quite being dizzy, he knew that feeling. But it definitely wasn't what things should normally do.
It had been a while since he'd lost count of the days. Counting had been automatic. He'd been locked up before, he knew that. He hadn't liked it before, he knew that too. But this was different. They gave him jell-o here. They let him have a nice bed. They let him roam around. The food wasn't horrible. He had little slippers that were fuzzy and warm, and a pair of jammies that were comfortable. On the days when he was cold, he had a nice warm fuzzy robe to wear that matched the slippers.
He couldn't be sure what he was doing in this place, however. He recalled no trial. He didn't even remember being brought in. Just that he was here. The days passed, and he was still here.
A few times he thought he recognized people. But he was never sure enough to go introduce himself. Or ask them. Mostly, he just looked. Ted watched, and he kept to himself. That seemed like the best thing to do. Safest. He was abnormally concerned with safety, he realized. Nobody else seemed to be as worried about certain things as he was. He'd ask if certain things were safe, or if he was going to have a guard when he did some things - like shower, and they obliged him. Though it didn't seem to him that they took him very seriously.
Ted sat in a chair in the cafeteria where he ate his meals every day and watched other people while he ate a bowl of red jell-o. Thinking about being in this place. Thinking about not being in this place. Thinking about getting some more jell-o.