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They abandoned him. Left him to rot in this hellhole of an asylum, strapped in and restrained nearly all the time. Left to scream himself hoarse at the cold, uncaring walls, his anguish mingling with that of the others. After almost six months trapped in solitary, he couldn’t remember himself anymore. Rational thought flew out the window, the only things left his ghosts, his strength, and his anger at those who left him here.
But even that vanished, replaced with a hatred of all adults. They were all the same. They all abandoned him in his time of need.
And they all would pay.
--
His chance came one cold autumn night. The asylum was buzzing, whispers and rumors of “the little prince” flying through the halls. One of the children had attacked a nun, seemingly for no reason. He had been taken to electroshock, and Aaron almost dismissed it as over with.
Until the screaming.
Your chance is here now. Open the door. They won’t see you. They’re too distracted. The guard room is empty. Go. Leave now. Tear free and rip the door off its hinges. Make them pay for abandoning you.
He grit his teeth, listening to it. It had never steered him wrong before, and this was his only chance. He strained against the bonds of the heavy canvas, grinning savagely when the seams popped one by one. Finally, after far too long, he was free.
He unbuckled the jacket quickly, letting it slip to the floor and reveling in the novelty of feeling the air on his arms. He didn’t even care that the cool air of the hospital was making his limbs tremble, didn’t care that his arms were going numb. He was too happy about being free to care.
He sighed, shaking out his arms and smiling at the rush of sensation, before placing his hands flat against the metal door. He curled his hands, the metal crumpling like paper under his grip. It groaned and shrieked in protest, but he ignored it, instead heaving it out of the frame and tossing it aside.
Finally.
He was free.
--
Once he was loose in the halls, he had no idea where to go. He stood there like a lost deer, eyes darting around and shivering violently.
Go to the contraband lockers. Get your clothes.
She had a point. Wearing his street clothes, they’d assume him to be a lost child, not a patient. In the thin hospital pajamas, he’d be a walking target. He nodded shakily, forcing his numb feet to move.
Silently, he padded down the hall, listening to directions from Tabitha and letting her fire warm him from the inside. The flames burned just under his skin, but he didn’t release them. He didn’t want the asylum to burn down, not with him still inside.
A few times, he had to duck around a corner to avoid the wandering staff, but those times were few and far between. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he found the locker with his things inside. He pulled out his hoodie, the fabric feeling rough under his fingers.
He loved it.
He immediately pulled it on, uncaring of the smoky smell that still lingered in the fabric threads. He ignored the shirt in the locker, instead pulling out a pair of paint-stained jeans and his old sneakers. He quickly changed into both, finally feeling somewhat normal again, now that he was warm and dressed. He pulled out his beanie as well, frowning when he realized how small it seemed now. Had it really been that long?
Time was meaningless in the asylum. He shook his head, dumping both the beanie and the shirt in the large trash can just outside the door. With that taken care of, he headed for the elevator.
It was time to leave.
--
He ran into the little prince on the fourth floor. No, “ran into” is the wrong term. He encountered the little prince, only through a murder attempt.
He was attempting to dial someone for a ride, when a barked warning from Faolan had him dodging instinctively. A sharpened pole whistled past him, impacting the wall where his head had been not five seconds before.
Watch out! I can sense demonic energies!
He nodded to acknowledge the warning, poking his head up. He saw only a young boy in a suit, nothing to suggest a demon.
Look again. It......It is the boy.
he’s the one who tried to kill us!
Aaron bared his teeth in a snarl, launching himself over the counter and pinning the boy to the floor. His fist drew back, ready to punch through the boy’s skull and free him from the demon within his skin, when he spoke.
“Wait.”
It wasn’t what he expected. The boy’s voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in a long time. Besides that, it was calm. Aaron knew that he himself looked like a beast, so the lack of fear was confusing. He sat back on his haunches, looking at the boy questioningly.
“You’re a demon. Why should I?” he challenged. The boy smirked, eyes flashing black for a split second.
“No. I am the Son. I am the Prince.” Aaron shivered, glaring.
“All the more reason you must be freed,” he argued. The boy sneered, hands flexing.
“I need not be freed. I am he who does the freeing.” He reached up, caressing Aaron’s face with the back of one hand. Aaron flinched, unprepared for the burning warmth emanating off the corpse-pale child.
“I......I can’t trust you......” he whispered. “I can’t leave you alone, you can’t kill me, I won’t let you.....won’t let anyone hurt me again.....” He grit his teeth, raising his hand again, but it was shaking. They were urging him forward, irritation rising at his inability to act. “Can’t let them......you’re a demon.........gonna kill me......”
“Stop.” Aaron froze. The boy smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “If you stay out of my way, I won’t kill you. I have no issue with you.” He coughed, a brief flash of irritation passing over his face before he smoothed it back into the indifferent mask again. “I need information, is all.”
Aaron nodded slowly, lowering his fist again. “What information?” he asked. The boy blinked.
“Ludlow. I need information on a town called Ludlow.” Aaron shook his head.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about Ludlow. But......I can help you find out. Leaving a trail of bodies in your wake isn’t good. I can clean up for you, if you let me come with you.” His eyes were wide, frantic even. “I need to get out of here. I don’t want to stay in this hospital anymore. You have connections, right? I heard them talking, you know. Calling you the little prince.”
--
Lucius sat up on his elbows. The girl pinning him down looked dangerous. It would be astounding if she wasn’t caught by the staff. Miraculously, they hadn’t been interrupted yet, but he knew it wouldn’t last long. He could stay here, play the victim. But that would put unnecessary attention on him. He could let her come with him, but that led to the risk of them being discovered, as well as his father paying more attention to his companion.
Either way, he lost something. But, if she was to be believed.....she would be invaluable. He opened his mouth to agree, but stopped as she stiffened. She tilted her head, like she was listening to something, before leaning down. “They’re coming. Answer. Now,” she hissed in his ear. He nodded. She chuckled, before standing up and helping him to his feet.
She dragged him to a hidden alcove by the elevators, out of sight of the waiting room. “If we are to work together, we should introduce ourselves. It’s only proper,” Lucius said, wincing internally as his sandpaper-dry throat was forced to move once more. “My name is Lucius. What’s yours?” he asked.
“It’s Aaron. My name’s Aaron, but sometimes it’s Faolan and sometimes it’s Tabitha. Keep all three in mind, you may not get a warning when the change happens,” she.....no, he? warned. Lucius nodded, a little puzzled, but that’s what he gets for allying himself with an asylum escapee, he supposed.
“Are you a girl or a boy?” he asked instead. Aaron stiffened, before relaxing and running a finger through their hair in aggravation. They muttered something about ‘stupid ghosts’ and ‘need a haircut’ before looking back at him.
“I’m a boy. There’s a long story behind the hair, one we don’t have time for. Now come on. We need to get going.”