Aleksander was admitted to a psychiatric hospital on the the third day of April, but the news reached me five days later. I'd become too concerned and called their home, only to be answered by his aunt Nadja to whom I'd never spoken to before, despite my frequent visits. However, she promised to keep me updated on Sasha's health; it all had become too stressful for his mother, who'd apparently forgotten about me.

The following days at school were long and draining. As much as I tried to focus on studying and keeping my grades up - all while thinking positive -, it wasn't nearly as easy.

With things having gone as they were, it was too obvious there was something in Sasha's head that wasn't right anymore. But even though my knowledge of medicine wasn't much, as could be expected from a simple high schooler, a part of me hoped the problem was physical. Maybe even something in his brain that the doctors could fix. But on the other hand was the fear of it being too late, even if they did find the center of it.

Then, after many nerve-wracking days, Nadja called to give me the news: Aleksander was finally getting better. Doctors hadn't recommended any visitors until now and following his aunt's warnings, I'd stayed away. But now I used my chance. I went to see him.

I'd been warned first that Aleksander would be under the influence of sedatives, for reasons no one dared to elaborate on. I walked into the ward knowing only that he'd been acting weird - a word Nadja had used. I found Sasha sitting on his bed reading a book, but he looked up and smiled brightly as soon as he noticed me come in. Weren't it for those dark circles around his eyes and the horrible hospital clothes, right then it would've been so easy to believe everything really was okay. But even with all the doubts, I felt relieved, almost running to close the final distance, to hug him tightly.

"Now that's a story to tell your grandkids, huh?" Sasha joked as he hugged me back. "Who'd have ever thought I'll end up in a nuthouse?"

He sure sounded more like himself now, although I noticed the weariness in his voice. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, I asked him how he was doing.

"The food could be better to be honest. I'd love to have some junk food right now. Like, badly."

I laughed. And he laughed. We both laughed, until our voices faded into the unnaturally uncomfortable silence. I could tell he'd give anything to not be in this place, but it wasn't something I wanted to make a conversation of. Actually, I was overall unsure as to what was okay to say and what not. He must've missed the outside world.

So I told him how I'd been doing, emphasizing the positive and ignoring all the negative. He then told me about all the video games that had been released while he'd been stuck here, unable to play. He told me about all the movies he'd managed to watch to pass time. Told me about the other patients here, what he'd heard or seen. And he talked about Saaremaa, how he wanted to go back for the summer with me, to swim in the rocky sea again.

The more he talked, the more I saw that our greeting had just been a good effort, and the real Sasha was only a tired shadow of the Sasha I used to know.

Even so, that day I returned home with a new hope. The hope remained there for another couple weeks while I visited him as often as I could. The doctors still couldn't tell what exactly might have been wrong with him, as no test showed anything abnormal. A naive part of me held onto the childish dream that the tests were right; that maybe he will get back home soon.

These hopes and dreams were crushed not long after.

With my frequent visits, I once again began noticing small changes, too similar to when his headaches had first turned into abnormal behavior. Whatever medication they gave Sasha, it either started to lose its effect or was Sasha starting to lose something greater.

To put it simply, he became strange. Eventually he'd have instances where he didn't talk to me nearly at all, instead staring at a place, an object or a person for a long time with no reaction. Other times it would be accompanied by vague and confusing hand signals. He would sometimes hum a song I'd never heard before or laugh at nothing in particular. They all happened randomly at first, but became more frequent, to the point he'd often make faces - look surprised, hurt, merry or even angry with seemingly nothing to drive him

On one particular day he'd been staring at the door behind me for minutes until I asked him what it was he saw there. I was somewhat surprised I'd caught his attention at all as his head turned toward me ever so slowly, although his eyes shifted only at the last second. He studied me thoughtfully for another long moment. "Ears," he said then. "Mouse ears. Blue and pink." Without stopping he lowered his voice, whispering, "A child's cry, the black's hiss." He raised his head, staring at the ceiling. "Yes, it hisses. Like a chameleon. Or a mamba." He then proceeded to put his finger to his lips, as if he'd just shared a big secret. 

It was the second to last time I ever saw him alive.

. .. ... .... .. .... ... .. .

I didn't get nearly any sleep that night. But when the exhaustion finally did get me, I dreamt of Aleksander. He was still in the hospital, but the doctors said he could come home. For some reason, I didn't want him to come. I asked that they wouldn't let him out. I pleaded with them to never let him go. But they did. And then, suddenly, he was knocking on my door and when I wouldn't let him in, he broke it down with an axe. When he stood in the small room of my apartment, blocking my way to exit, he looked like a monster. The axe had grown into his unnaturally angled long arm and his face held a sneer that could not belong to a human being; the corners of his mouth were far too high and his teeth were replaced by tight rows of spikes. And he was drenched in blood which I doubted was his own.

Sasha stepped toward me and reached out his still human hand, squeezing my shoulder. His touch was cold as ice, making me shiver, and I felt the blood on him drip onto my skin. He was speaking all this time, but the words were but whispers I couldn't recognize. I didn't even try to, because I knew he would raise his axe any second to kill me.

I jerked awake, still feeling the cold that seemed to spread from my shoulder. It took me a moment to realize my phone was ringing, so I crawled over to dig through the pile of clothes next to by bed. As soon as I saw the caller ID, I knew I had forgot something important.

It was my boss, asking why I hadn't shown up to work. It was half past eight. Apologizing, I promised I'd be there in about half an hour, already trying to get dressed. But I was on edge and my head felt like a mess. My shoulder was still cold; compared with the rest of me, my skin there was unnaturally cool. I held my palm to it to warm it up, feeling upset, as such unexplainable things seemed to happen far too often recently.

Maybe the blanket simply hadn't fully covered me? I sighed heavily, annoyed with myself. A tiny thing like this had managed to work me up this early, just as I was in a hurry. I needed to get my mind off some things and back to real life.

I skipped breakfast and left as quick as I could. Endangering my job was the last thing I needed right now.

As I was half-running towards the bus stop, I noticed the bus 42 was already coming. They stopped here rather frequently, but I didn't want to tarry more than I already had, so I decided to take a shortcut instead of the long way that could possibly have me stuck behind the traffic lights. And so I stepped off the pavement and onto the road.

On that exact moment someone honked a horn and I flinched, automatically freezing in place.

A second later there was a horn coming from another direction, but much louder and much, much closer. I turned my head to see the front of a truck, somehow less distance away than it should've been - and still coming closer. I realized within a split second what was about to happen.

My consciousness only barely registered the thick cloud of darkness gathering around me, or the fingers, then whole arms that stretched out from it like a giant swarm of angry bees. They grabbed for me as I was still staring at the advancing truck, burying me in complete darkness just as tons of metal crashed into me.

. .. ... .... .. .... ... .. .

The last time I went to the hospital, I was told I could not see Sasha. I'd practically pleaded with them to tell me why and the doctor I spoke to took a great deal of time to pick the right words. But the words were blunt - Aleksander had lost control.

I felt drained. Angry and tired and scared. For a long time I sat in the hospital's corridor and cried, because it seemed to be the only thing I hadn't really tried yet. I wanted to leave, and yet I didn't. I wanted to go home, and yet I didn't. I wanted to be with Sasha.

A ruckus on the other side of the double door got my attention. I raised my head, at first only partly curious, but the noise didn't stop and eventually I heard what sounded like something heavy being thrown. I stood up once it got too close for comfort, startled when the doors were thrown open. And there stood Sasha. There were still dark circles under his eyes and he still wore the silly hospital clothes, but he was different. His breathing was uneven, his eyes wide open and a confused and scared expression on his face. Then he saw me.

"Kartin," he whispered, repeating it hastily like some kind of a chant. His voice grew louder, until he nearly yelled my name over the whole hospital, his mouth forming a wide smile.

I saw nurses running after him when he pulled me into a bear hug, nearly squeezing all the air out of me. But as he brought his lips to my ear, I got goose bumps. His breath was cold, just as the lips that softly nibbled on my earlobe.

"The mice saw," he then whispered in a honeyed voice. "And they found. Took it. Hid it. But you..." He pulled back only enough to grab my chin, forcing me to look up at him. "You'll come with, Katrin. They won't like it, but I'll promise. I'll promise to promise."

One of the workers put a hand on Sasha's shoulder to pull him back. "Aleksander, you have to come with us." The man's voice was more a plead than a command.

Suddenly Sasha's eyes filled with rage and he jerked back from the touch, trying to push the man away. But before he could do so, two more guys grabbed him from the other side and a brawl ensued. Sasha kicked with both his arms and legs, yelling and calling profanities as they tried to force him onto the ground. Even as they were three grownups against a teenager, it looked like quite an even match.

"I'll take you all to Hell with me!" Sasha screamed once he realized he wasn't going to win this. He proceeded to laugh, repeating his words. "I'll take you all to Hell!" His eyes met with mine. "All of you!"

I can't remember when or who guided me away. I only remember watching Sasha one moment, and being outside in the cool breeze the other, with a young female nurse asking me if I can get home on my own. I gave a curt nod, feeling too numb, and walked away.

That was near the beginning of summer. I could no longer remember when exactly. I only know that after this, even Nadja didn't dare to keep me updated anymore. The next time I got any news... it was already too late.

I was alone.

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Author's Note:

Finally got the third chapter up! Two more to go :) 

I would be really, REALLY thankful for some feedback, guys. And votes if you like the story. So don't be afraid to say what's on your mind ;)