Wolrd War II begins with Hitler’s attack on this country
"Poland" I say outloud and take a drag from my cigarette.
What is Poland?
Corrrrrect.
American Authors for 400
Who published "The Other American" in 1962
"Michael Harrington"
Times up. Who is Michael Harrington.
On Tv for 700
In 1956 Elvis Presley appeared on what show?
"The Ed Sullivan Show"
What is the Ed Sullivan Show
Correct.
Earth Science for 300
Submerged volcanic mountains at least 1,000 miles high are called..
"Seamounts"
What is seamounts
CORRRRRECT!

"Wow. Spencer. Your so smart" Aiden says while still laying on my lap. "You should be like a teacher or something."
I flick the ash off my cigarette and take a final drag. "Yeah." I blow the remaining smoke out of my lungs, "Well you should be Peterpan."

"Spencer!" A loud voice awakens me.
"Jeezus Mike. What the FUCK! You gotta wake me up like that or what? Shit."
"Sorry. but yous gonna be late for art." he sheepishly replies.
"I don’t give a damn about art." I mumble through the pillow.
"Yeah. I know but if you miss one more group activity you’ll be back on red tag.. which means no cafeteria." He has this tone.. like he knows that will change my mind.
"Fuck off."
"Fine. But. They have a guitar out… oh and the fresh meats in there." He quickly runs down the hall, leaving my door wide open.
No one quite knows what exactly why he is in here. The nurses don’t even know which is a strange thing.
I strain my muscles and pull myself out of bed. Quickly brushing my hair and teeth.
When I walk into art, the mentor is shocked. Art is the only group thing that I almost enjoy. No one does anything except stare at a blank piece of paper. Its pointless. The only reason I like it is sometimes they pull out the acoustic guitar.
"Its nice of you to join us Miss Carlin."
I smirk at him. "Well I decided that we should just stop fighting. I mean.. I miss your love." I pucker my lips as if I was kissing him and take a seat next to the new girl. Shes in a wheel chair and that fucked up one is sitting right next to her, holding her hand.

"Soooo. Trevor. Who’s your new friend? Girlfriend? What?"
"Fuck off Ashley."
"Whoa their big boy. No need to be hostile here. I haven’t done SHIT to you. And for once I’m trying to be polite and introduce myself." I turn towards the girl, who in fact looks like a total zombie. "I’m Spencer. And I take it your Ashley."
She makes no response. So i pick up her hand and shake it, her not even glimpsing my way. I notice her track marks and see the look in her eye. Oh… it’s all too familiar.
I laugh a little. "You’re a junk head huh?"
Her head turns and faces me, eyes cold yet warm. Dark yet filled with light. And with that one look she answers my question. It’s a golden want filled with burning and itching only satisfied with a prick to the vein.
"Yeah well your not alone sweet pea." I wink in her direction and know she sees me.
She is going to turn around sometime, she’s already responding. So I’ll wait and see how long it takes to get her used to inpatient living. I pick up the paint brush and put it in her hand. Expecting her to drop it but she doesn’t. She just lifts her hand and starts stroking. Too bad there is no paint on that thing, I bet whatever she sees herself painting is damn beautiful.
Feeling inspired, I pick up the guitar and begin strumming the familiar tune to Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin.

“Trevor, your needed in the main office.” A nurse sticks her head into the door
“No. I cant leave Ashley.” He says in a quivering voice, the grip he has on her hand tightens.
“I’ll be okay.” The voiceless girl finds her voice, although it is shaky and raspy due to not using it for a while. Her eyes turn black and hollow as I continue to pluck the strings slowly.
The slightly tall boy nods and stands up, walking towards the door.
I pause my playing, “George? Can I get a light in here?”
A male attendant walks up and lights the cigarette that I placed into my mouth as he walked over here.
Yeah. I know. It’s a nasty bad habit that no one finds attractive but trust me… if you lived here as long as I have, you would be smoking them too.
“Thanks Georgie.” I wink at him as he walks away. He’s a shorter man, red hair, freckles. He is cute in the “shy neighbor” kind of way.
“No problem.” I see his blush.

Fact of matter is, I admit to having almost everyone who works here wrapped around my finger. I have slept with over half of them, and I know that is kind of sluttish but you do what you have to do to get by.

I set the guitar down and sit next to the brunette once again to find that her brush has reached the paint and she is now actually painting.

“So. You like it here? Cozy enough? Warm enough?”
I mindlessly ask her questions just to get her to say anything. Its in my nature. I want to find stuff out.
“Its okay.” Her voice is monotone and her attention never leaves the canvas.
“Are you moving into a room with a roomie?” I’ve been deemed too dangerous for a roomie. Or two sexual. Either one, same thing. The brunette looks into my eyes, making me feel almost threatened.
“I’m getting moved into room 4D… With a cocky, controlling, blonde named Spencer.”