Goodbye Mr. A

White walls. White light. White clothes. Heck, it was all white. Everything around looked like it was covered in snow. The inside of the room was cold enough to even make that believable. It was kind of just like in his dreams. The exact same four walls. Nothing surprising, nothing that he didn't expect. Too bad that he got to experience what he was most afraid of.

They already gave up on him. A lot of needles, some pills they forced him to swallow, and then just locked him in there, to calm down, pass out.. anything. Just so he'd stop screaming. But he didn't. Because.. they always answered. The voices. They were there and they talked back. And for the first time ever, they understood why they were talking. And he understood why they were talking.

He wanted to graduate. He wanted to leave. He wanted to be happy. But then she ran towards him. He could hear her, the high heels hitting the ground, making almost scary noises as she wiped the tears off her face. She was angry, and she was a stranger, and he had never made a stranger angry before. But, she was a real woman with real feelings, and hearing that her husband is sleeping with some mental student could only make a few strings break. They would keep breaking, until there was nothing left. Until she would lose it. And she did lose it the moment she saw his face.

He didn't know her, but she knew him. Then, it turned around, and she was the one who didn't know. Her actions were sudden and violent. She kept yelling at him. She was too angry to think. He, on the other hand, knew. He had the control over his body, and he used the control to solve the problem. It was the biggest scene he had ever made. Quite a show. The pocket knife was supposed to be there only to defend him from people like Ian Brady. Anyone who would want to hurt him. She wanted to hurt him. She needed to go.

One quick move, a moment when he could see the blade, but then it was gone. Instead, he could feel the warm blood running down his fingers. He stared right into her eyes. He watched them close. At first, only in pain. But then, he pulled the knife out. It hit the floor before her. It didn't matter, though. In the end, they were both at his feet. The weapon and the victim.

Somebody pulled him. It felt weird. They were suddenly outside, and the silence in his head was suddenly replaced by the loud sirens. The group of people shouted at him. This time, it was his family. Friends. More and more voices and always louder and louder, before the loudest voice stopped everything.

It came from the distance. Then he could see the black curls. Then the only person who truly knew about his mental illness held him close. And he couldn't help but hug Link O'Maley back.

Then the police came. They pulled him away, but for a moment he still held onto Link's hand, like it was supposed to save his life. The other boy didn't want to let go, either, but eventually had to, mumbling that everything would be okay. That the time would fix everything. But Link didn't seem to believe his own words. And if Link O'Maley didn't believe himself, neither did Ed. If the person who kept him strong was breaking in front of him, he didn't want to be there. He didn't want to watch and know that it was all his fault.

He whispered a sorry, before the policemen dragged him away. He never heard a response. Link O'Maley was crying by then.