#neilwolfram

“...gonna leave a nasty scar,” he heard the man above him say, “we told you not to pick at them, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” 

The hell was this guy talking about? 

“No worries, though,” he said, way too cheerful for Ly’s liking, “I’ll do you a favor here.” 

Surprisingly, it took a second before he felt the pain, feeling the scalpel drag across his gums on the right side of his mouth. His yelling was muffled by the hand in his mouth, though he could taste the blood. The feeling of the flesh around that side of his mouth being removed, having to be awake when he did the same to his bottom lip...

They had said not to pick at the scabs.   

5. A memory of someone close

“The boy’s got confidence, let him be. You don’t need to keep sending him to those doctors. They’ll just throw a disorder at him and some pills.” 

He could vaguely remember the way his mother ran her hand over her mouth, like she was wiping words from her own lips before they could escape. His uncle was leaned back in a chair, arm thrown about the back of the one Ly was sitting in. The sunshine was beating against his back from the window in the kitchen, and it somehow made it more unbearable. 

“I’m not telling him not to have confidence. Though, confidence doesn’t come from attacking other people. He broke a boy’s nose today, raised his fist at a teacher, for fuck’s sake.” 

Even if he still wasn’t quite sure what was going through his uncle’s head at the time, the look in his eyes, the slight upturn of his lips, seemed to tell him enough. It wouldn’t be a familiar look for Ly until much later, but he can still recall the feeling of his hand against his shoulder. 

“Not that it matters anymore, he’s not going back there,” his mother continued, shaking her head, “all that money spent on getting him that school...” 

“I’ll pay you back,” his uncle said, rolling his eyes, “It’ll cost less than having him bouncing around from doctor to doctor, the medications.” 

“This isn’t over. Ly, get the hell out of here. Your father will want to talk with you.” 

6. An event that defines them

A pair of blue eyes, glazed over, watched a number of images flash by on a screen. He was leaned back in a chair, arms crossed with a neutral expression on his face. He was completely zoned out, even when watching a familiar corpse appeared on the screen, part of a ripped up face peering out at him, framed in dirt. Crime scene photos, it’s the same routine. 

Hell, he’d play into reacting to the photos if this doctor wasn’t fucking bottom of the totem pole. Ly often wondered how many of his co-workers jerked him around enough. Kind of a pudgy fucker who can barely keep himself together when looking at the same pictures he did. Didn’t belong there, and he was sure other patients and staff knew so as well. Though, he had thought that being a bitch would get you places, allow you to put a word in someone’s ear, for fuck’s sake. 

He’s still pissed off that they couldn’t have placed him in a better cell, and this asshole stopped listening to him when he explained that he deserved better. He hasn’t messed up other patients, even when they were asking for it, and he doesn’t cause any issues with the staff. His family’s got money, too. 

He deserved that much, at least. 

He throws around the money thing pretty easily, knows how hungry they are for profit. Still, the guy just nods his head and says he’ll bring it up, but nothing is changing. 

“How much did you pay to get these?” Ly asked, gesturing towards the screen, “Must of cost a bit or two. I mean, it barely made news in my town. A broadcast or two, but, hey…” 

The doctor just sighed, resting the file in his lap as he reached over the screen to shut it off. Momentarily, he catches something on the clipboard. Three little letters. 

NPD.