Dream
WELLARD ASYLUM
I ran my fingertip against the concrete wall, drawing a sun with my bloodied fingertip.
No more sunshine.
Someone knocked on my bedroom door and I snapped my head to the side. “Who is it?” I whispered sharply.
A male nurse entered my room, his keys jingling as he stopped directly behind me, then placed his hand on my shoulder, rubbing it softly. “Is Lolita ready to play?”
I looked up at the man with a smile. “Lolita is always ready to play.” He helped me to my feet and walked me over to my small hospital bed. I laid down and behaved like a good little bunny, losing myself in those dark and stormy clouds.
Don’t be a broken dream…you’re not crazy…you’re not crazy.
The bed rocked, the metal squeaking as the nurse removed his shirt. I eyed the familiar tattoo inked along his chest, then reached out to touch it with my bloodied fingertip. “So soft,” I cooed, tracing the familiar outline. “Soldier boy.”
He continued to play with me, grunting as I heard a soft voice, singing in my head. I smiled, humming along with the lullaby as I popped my gum.
Sunshine.