(Translated from french)

Tayla

I've been stuck in this little place near a big city for two summer months now. The Icarus Psychiatric Clinic. It's a funny name, as I'm sure many of us must have experienced the euphoria before the crash that landed us here. I nearly took the plunge from the balcony. It all started with that, my sign of relapse. After a minimum of stabilization, I ended up here. Apparently, I'm lucky, it's a pretty chill place. There's worse. I've seen worse, and even if it was brief, it left enough of an impression on me that I remember it as a bizarre dream.

And yet, even here, everyone gets on my nerves, if they don't leave me alone. You can see it on my face, because nobody comes near me. Probably also because I keep my nose in my books.

Night falls on our large park. It must have cost them a fortune to make these enclosures...I mean, put up these long fences to keep us in. Talk about luck. I stop staring out my window, which will never open. I leave my room. I do it more and more often to read outside, hoping that Dr. Ross will notice and get me out of here. It would be for the reason that I'd be less confined at first sight. I launch my playlist on my phone and put on my headphones. I walk out into the street-lit garden. It looks more like a forest with fewer trees.

There aren't many people outside and they're chatting in armchairs near the building. As for me, I head for the path under the lights. I feel safe here, even if technically some people have an unstable past. In the distance, I notice something in the darkness. Advancing off the path, I make out someone tall. I don't know how, but I'm sure it's Holden. The weird guy with the hunting cap on his head 24/7.

Not even a normal baseball cap, no, that old red thing.

He's got black hair that sticks out a little, but mostly he's got totally white strands of hair in the front. They're naturally like that. For a while, I only knew because people kept talking about it, when he came in the clinic a little after me. One day, I came across him without a cap. It was rare for him not to have one. It gave me a chance to see his white strands of hair the way I wanted to, even if it was brief. When we bumped into each other, Holden barely looked at me. It's probably because of my face and my reputation as an arrogant cold girl. I heard about it by eavesdropping. When we bumped into each other, it also looked like one of those bad days for him. He had a hardened expression that made him look a bit older, even though I know he's 17 too. His tall stature can also give that impression.

I approach him and hold my breath as he stops beside the fence. In the not yet opaque darkness I can see him turn around. I'm sure he's staring at me, but suddenly he runs up and starts climbing the fence, which isn't that high. Yet it wouldn't occur to most of us to climb it to escape. We're not officially here in a forced hospitalization, even though my mother told me it would be here or the public health. Either way, I'll end up locked up. Pick your poison.

I don't know what's got into me, but I tie my braids, run and follow Holden's lead. I've always loved climbing. But the risk of falling over the moving fence makes me stop climbing. Especially as I can't see a thing. Suddenly, a phone light shines on me and there's a growl. Holden says to me in his deep voice:

-I should leave you here.

I retort:

-I'll tell them you're gone and you won't get far.

He sneers, and when I start to doubt that he's going to help me, he says:

-I'll go up a bit, you hold on to me and come down. I hope you don't weigh much.

I sigh, and after a muffled sound of something falling, I feel the fence move. How much does he weigh? After some complicated maneuvers, I use his big body to get to the other side, in a more reassuring way. When I'm standing on the other side, I hear him pick up what must have been his backpack and run forward. I follow, running too. After a while, I can't keep up any longer and stop, shouting as loud as I can:

-Wait f...

I think he won't stop, but to my surprise, his silhouette, illuminated by the colored or neutral lights of the road we're approaching, does. I run to join him and we finally find a sidewalk. He looks around, then at his phone, before turning in a direction. I follow and ask:

-Where are you going?

-The subway stop, I've got to get the fuck out of here.

I ask him as he walks in front of me, his cap hiding him with its earflaps:

-Where are you going? You can't go home, we can't go home. What are we going to do?

-If you want to turn around, wait a bit after I get on a train.

-No, it's okay, but I...I don't have anything. Not my subway pass or any money.

I look at his backpack and say:

-I'm not prepared. Maybe I'm screwed.

He grunts and says:

-Oh don't act like you're going to die soon, you're killing me.

That's a pretty funny line. He hears me laugh softly and asks:

-What's so funny?

-Nothing.

-Either you follow me or you stay here, crying on the side of the road. Just don't get in anyone's car. Hitchhiking's ain't it.

I retort:

-I've got a brain, thanks.

-You really make me want to keep you.

-I'm not a pet to be kept.

-You're right, sorry, you're more like the brat who threatened to tell on me.

I raise my eyebrows and we're on our way. Down the stairs. Once down in the subway, I finally take the time to observe Holden's profile. I take advantage of the fact that he's at my level and has plunged his attention into his phone. I rediscover his chiselled cheekbones, long black eyelashes contrasting with his ivory skin and button nose. He also has lips I shouldn't be looking at like this. It's been weeks since I've seen him up close, since we first met. Since, when I have the choice, I avoid people like the plague.

But this time, I followed him impulsively. Holden takes his eyes off the phone and I meet his narrowed gaze. His better-lit irises are blue, stained with brown in the middle and highlighted by his lashes. He questions me with his gaze and now I feel hot, because I've been staring at him. I raise my shoulders, he frowns in confusion, but walks away. I follow him to buy tickets. He does so with dollar bills coming out of a wad that makes my eyes widen. I say to him:

-Well, you're good to survive for a while.

-It won't be too much with you.

-No, thanks for the ticket, but don't worry, I won't be clinging to you for the rest of my life.

-You never know.

We're lucky that a train arrives quickly in this boring, almost empty and grayish station. We sit at the back, side by side, in one of the dark blue armchairs, far from the two obviously drunk guys arguing. The group of partygoers, clinging to the many metal bars in the train, have a good laugh. The man sitting next to the two alcoholics isn't having it, so he moves away. This makes one of the men shout. Now the three of them are at each other's throats and it's making my anxiety rise. I've heard that the number of people being stabbed in the subway has increased. Holden pulls my jacket and leans over me, with a pleasant woody scent, to tell me:

-I'm here.

I can't help laughing nervously, so he scowls, making me regret it a little. Holden goes back to whatever web page is on his phone. Past the limit to enter New York, our train stops at Grand Central Station. Holden almost drags me outside to hurry up. Once I'm out the door, I shrug him off and say:

-The doors don't speed up like you do. I had time.

He mumbles:

-That's right.

The paranoia creeps back into my head and I say:

-We're going to be in so much trouble. They might even stick us in Apple County. Where there's really sick people.

-Well, I think it's a little late now, so we should make it worth it.

I sigh and follow him. We leave the station, saved only by the yellow stripes on the ground from being called "depressing". We reach the station. It's a giant building with a very high, vaulted ceiling. Every time I've been here, I've felt like a microbe lost in a palace. The cream marbled architecture looks really old-fashioned, but it's cut through by the screens displaying departures and arrivals. There are also ticket offices and stores. We're rushing right into the shopping arcade. We pass lots of people, even at this time of the night. Even the ones in suits, maybe they work in finance. I ask:

-Where are we going now?

Holden answers:

-Hiking. We need a tent first.

-You think you're funny?

He has a face that tells me he must be getting out of a lot of things with that smile. I follow Holden into a store where he's buying a toiletry bag. I look at him confused. The way this guy is acting is so strange, but at the same time we didn't come out of a resort, we came out of a psych clinic. Maybe I should be careful. I'm thinking about it now?

At the same time, he's never had any particular problems at the clinic. Of the two of us, I'm probably the most affected. He also bought a SIM card and some top-ups. Once outside the store, I follow Holden, who's in front, on his phone. We eventually sit down and he holds out his hand and says:

-Turn off your phone and give it to me.

I laugh, but he doesn't. He plants his cold, chocolate-colored gaze in mine, then says seriously:

-You do it or you're on your own.

He turns his phone off and puts it in the case. I say to him:

-But why? Are you crazy? What are we going to do without phones?

-We can be tracked. And you think I bought the SIM card to eat it? You're killing me.

He reaches into his backpack and pulls out another phone. I say:

-You even had enough to...wait when you bought it?

-I'm very lucky. I thought of withdrawing the money before the clinic and the phone is my birthday present. But I didn't want it and kept it, just in case something happened to the one I'm using. We'll share it. If you stay.

He opens his hand and I hesitate. I sigh, turn off my phone then hand it to him. I warn him:

-You'd better not try to hurt me, because I've got nothing to call with.

-We were in a private clinic, not a high-security facility, for killers who pleaded insanity.

-After eating their mother.

He raises his characterful black eyebrows and says:

-I'm the one who should be afraid.

I smile and he continues:

-It'll allow you to disconnect from those people who must surely be pretending with you.

I retort stung:

-How do you know what they're doing?

-It makes sense. They're faking it to get what they want out of life. They pretend a lot with people like us. Do you really think they'd reveal their judgmental thoughts?

-Hmmm...my friends cut me off after my first episode, without saying a word.

-You know what I mean? But it's not tragic. You can pretend too. I mean, you probably do it like everyone else, even if not as often. Not often enough.

I ask him:

-What makes you think I don't do it enough?

-An impression.

-And you? Are you just pretending?

-No, otherwise I'd smile at you and tell you that you're a pleasure to stand.

I sigh and he gives me his charming smile, before putting the toiletry bag containing the phones in his backpack. He starts walking again, telling me:

-Come on.

We head out into the cold streets, where darkness battles with New York's aggressive lighting. As we walk a little further, Holden finds a way to activate the SIM card as he goes. Eventually, we enter a hotel with a sober, cream-and-black decor. On his remaining phone, Holden shows the receptionist a reservation for something I don't know. Since I haven't been back to the country of my childhood for a long time, there are a lot of businesses I don't know. We follow another employee and Holden tells me:

-This is the cheapest, we can leave the phones here for a while.

I ask him curiously:

-But how much do you have?

-I have to recount. Not enough to redo your wardrobe, but enough to chill and think for a few days. It's a good thing I withdrew the money. Cash is the best.

-I still prefer the card.

He smiles a little, then we arrive in a room full of black lockers with silver numbers. The employee who had looked at us curiously on the way in asks:

-Is this just for the backpack? Are you sure?

I hold back a smile and Holden pulls out the toiletry bag and hands it to her, saying:

-It's just this, actually. It's precious, we don't want it to get stolen while we're off playing tourist.

The employee seems confused, but takes the kit unopened and labels it before pointing to a locker and saying:

-It's here, 74.

Holden puts the toiletry bag away and the employee observes me before commenting:

-You look young.

Damn. Holden looks at me concerned and I reply:

-Yes, I get that a lot, I just turned 18. We're here for my birthday.

The employee whose name tag I finally read says "Sarah" answers cheerfully:

-Happy birthday, you make a lovely couple.

I feel my face warm up and Holden slides in beside me. He takes my hand and I shiver as I feel the warmth of his. He says to Sarah:

-Thanks, but we're going to be late for my new surprise.

I look at him and he smiles at me with mischief in his brown-centered blue eyes. Sarah replies:

-I won't keep you waiting any longer. I'll give you the paper receipt and you'll receive the electronic one by e-mail.

Even once outside, he let go of me, but I can still feel Holden's hand in mine. I don't understand why it does this to me. I tell him:

-We can't go back like this. She'll think things through and get suspicious, we're busted.

-We weren't going to stick around.

-What are you talking about? I thought you were going to stay there.

-You kill me sometimes. You're already coming too and we're not going to stay near the last place where the phones were.

I sigh and retort:

-Yeah well, if you really wanted to play the spy, you could have been more discreet. Because if I were you, I'd take off that hat.

-Oh yes, because the fact that my white locks are showing will help.

-In fact, you see, you're the burden.

He smirks and shakes his head. He hesitates, but takes off his cap and puts it in his bag, from which he takes out a black one and puts it on. Cap Man it seems. I ask:

-Did it hurt when you took it off?

He replies with a smile:

-Oh shut up.

I roll my eyes and speed up, even though I don't know where we're going. I let him pass in front of me again, and under the night lights, he asks:

-Do you think we'll make the news?

-Unless we're a danger to ourselves or others, we won't really attract massive attention. Besides, alerts are reserved for abductions. And there are laws to keep us anonymous, so the media avoid exposing minors. Besides, there's so much more important stuff going on in this town, two escaped convicts from a clinic is no big deal.

-Damn, you've thought this through.

-Rumination is a symptom.

-I know that too, my thing is stories that start from nothing.

I nod and answer:

-Yes, there's that too.

-What's your thing? If you want to tell me.

-Guess.

-Something like chronic depression?

-Not very far from it sometimes, but no.

-Are you bipolar too?

-Are you?

He says amused:

-It seemed logical, didn't it? When I'd just arrived and they were stabilizing my treatment, sometimes I didn't talk to anyone like a wall and I was locked up all the time, and other times I wouldn't shut up.

-Well, actually, it's not easy to diagnose, you should know that. It can come across as a lot of things. That's why they spent years trying to figure me out.

-Yeah, you're right. We're quite a duo.

I laugh and follow him. Three subway stops later we end up in a hotel with a modern cream and gold decor. It doesn't look too bad to me. Holden makes the reservation, using the fake ID he told me about on the way. I listen to him and feel like laughing as I read my flyer. As if the ID he'd had made to buy cigarettes wasn't enough, he accentuates the tone of his already deep voice. He must be pretty stressed about getting caught. I suddenly think of something. I pull him aside apologizing. He says annoyed:

-What, Tayla?

I laugh and say:

-All this time, I'd forgotten to give you my first name, but you've got it.

-Don't start flatter yourself. I've got a good ear, unlike you when you're reading. The nurses repeated your name enough.

-Pff.

-What do you want now?

-Take two beds.

He smiles, then laughs in my face under my annoyed gaze. He says:

-We can't do that, it'll look suspicious.

-How convenient. We can be friends traveling together, it's the 21st century.

He sighs and says:

-Here, two beds will cost more, so fewer days. Besides, I've already told him that...you know what? I'm paying. So you sleep on the floor or you're on your own, but I'll take one bed.

-You're such an asshole.

The wave between his lips moves to form his mischievous smile. He says:

-It's your choice. I'm giving you a choice.

I take a long breath and retort:

-Take your damn bed.

He shows me his teeth before continuing his act in his Optimus Prime voice.

After a too long moment, we enter our spacious room decorated in brown and off-white. I place my jacket on the velvet armchair, which looks as if it's been inflated because of its modern design. It reminds me of the bubble chair I was admiring on Insta the other day. Holden puts down his bag before approaching the wide window. He exclaims with a laugh:

-Oh shit!

I join him, and across the way in the next building an even wider window looks out on a couple. The man sitting on the bed in his bathrobe looks at the woman, who is taking off a dress that looks weird and super-tight. Latex? That must be it. She finally takes off her dress with difficulty and we see her sensually curvaceous body. Okay, now with Holden standing next to me, it's awkward and wrong. Yet I don't move. The man takes off his robe and fortunately he's wearing boxer shorts. Suddenly...what? The woman grabs some kind of whip and whips him with it, which makes Holden laugh and me laugh too. It must be nerves. She continues and Holden says, laughing:

-Oh fuck.

Now she stops and takes off her bra. Okay no. I step away from the window saying:

-That's enough for me.

Holden sneers then follows me. I sit on the bed and he stands on the other side then asks:

-Are you going to sleep in the bed?

I retort:

-If you try to touch me, I'll kill you. I'm serious, or at least I'll try and hurt you a lot.

He laughs and says:

-Wow, wow. What do you think I am?

-A stranger.

-We've been in the same place for months. Just because we've just seen a BDSM session, because these weirdos probably like to be watched, doesn't mean I want to jump on you.

I frown, then say:

-Just because we've spent all this time in the same place doesn't mean you're not a liar.

-What? What do you mean?

-Don't lie again. I heard you from a distance, but I heard enough. I could hear you telling different versions of how you ended up in Icarus to different people and how easy it was to get them out to you. So I'm not going to let my guard down.

He grins and says:

-I admit I shouldn't have so much fun with it, but I try to keep my private life private. Just like you do when you hide behind your books.

I grimace and he adds:

-Yes, we've noticed your absence, The Ghost.

-Don't call me that, The Liar.

-Looks like we've got our new names.

I sigh and he says:

-I think I want to go out tonight.

-Bad idea.

He flashes a devilish grin and replies:

-Yes, but I want to fuck.

I stop myself from widening my eyes despite the fact that I've tensed up. He's doing it on purpose. Faced with his amused smile, I reply with a false air of detachment:

-Well, go and find yourself a prostitute.

-That's not my style. Besides, I'm not supposed to waste money or data. You know, in the '90s they didn't really have cell phones, so I could easily survive by limiting contacts.

-Okay, okay.

I'm thinking of leaving when he adds:

-I should limit contacts yes...but I really want to call my sister.

-Oh...

He tells me animatedly:

-She's a super cool kid, she's all cute and super smart too. She's the kind of kid who understands deep movies even though she's only 10. Her favorite movie is Requiem for a Dream. We weren't supposed to let her watch it in the first place, but... she knows it by heart. What I remember from the movie is the guy who says, "I'm not a bad person. I just do bad things".

I ask mockingly:

-Is that a lie?

He smiles slightly and replies:

-Do you think it is?

-I don't want it to be.

-Maybe you'll know if it is one day. Besides, I don't even know why I'm telling you this.

I ask him:

-Why are you really lying about yourself?

-The others push me with all their questions. My private life, I told you.

I yawn and say:

-Okay.

He rummages in his bag and goes into the bathroom with a case. I follow, asking:

-Wait, do you have toothpaste?

In front of the mirror, he puts some on his brush and hands it to me. I observe myself for a moment in the mirror. I stopped applying make-up at the clinic out of laziness and lack of interest. Still, when I see the slightly darker brown stain taunting me on my cheekbone, I regret it. Usually, I don't overdo it, I just cover it and a few others stains and...well, even when you don't do much, you do a lot between highlighter, mattifying powder and everything else.

At least since my eyebrows have grown even more I'm a bit more confident and since I stopped my shameful tic of plucking my eyelashes too. I look less strange without the occasional hole in them. While I'm struggling to brush with my fingers, from the second sink, Holden, that kid, starts laughing into his foam. It wrinkles his eyes made out of different shades. I rinse my mouth and tell him:

-Not everyone has the luxury of having taken their stuff.

He rinses and laughs, saying:

-You're killing me.

I answer wearily:

-I'm too tired to shower, don't judge me.

-Don't worry, that makes two of us. We're not at a critical stage yet anyway.

I turn off the bedroom light and lie down facing Holden. In the dark, interrupted by the city lights from the window we left open, I say to him:

-Hey, remember my threat Caulfield.

He asks:

-How do you know my last name?

-I've got ears everywhere.

-But no mouth, I guess, except when you want me to. I thought you weren't gonna say a word to me, but you won't shut up.

-You shut your mouth.

He laughs and I add:

-Besides, I don't get along with a lot of people. It only creates discomfort, anxiety and regret to try.

-Are you feeling all that now?

-Oh hush...it's just a stroke of luck.

He says, amused:

-You can't win if you don't play.

-Well, you didn't help either, you didn't come to see me.

He asks me with amusement in his voice:

-Did you want to?

-Not that you all showed up at the same time.

He gives his devilish laugh before asking:

-Did you want it to be just me who came to see you?

-Keep dreaming. Besides, I'm sleepy, good night.

I close my eyes as he laughs and fall asleep next to the smell of the forest.