m<a class="postlink" href="https://67.media.tumblr.com/6a886d5053d4411641a3141f2c786a8c/tumblr_np10erg7by1rdkvxmo4_540.gif">http://67.media.tumblr.com/6a886d5053d4 ... o4_540.gif</a>m<br/><br/>Orm<a class="postlink" href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/d5/4c/f4/d54cf4235213cbbe78ea8a1f58c9e43b.jpg">https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/23 ... c9e43b.jpg</a>m<br/><br/>The sign on the Hospital roof said ‘Hawkins Mental Institute,’<br/><br/>God, the place sure as hell looked the part… one of those big, grey old buildings, Brutalist architecture he believed it was called. All cold concrete walls and minimal decoration, it looked fit for purpose and nothing more; the kind that cropped up all across the world, like big ol’ gravestones for the living, in the seventies.<br/><br/>Before Duke even thought about entering (which he HAD been thinking about… okay, WORRYING about… all week… nonstop…) he had to step back in the car park, amongst the muddy autumn leaves and snap a decent photograph. Firstly because it was a hobby that had followed him faithfully since childhood and just about the only thing that felt sane or real these days, but secondly and more importantly, because EVERYTHING had to be documented, every step of the journey or lo and behold he might end up there himself.<br/><br/>The way these past few weeks had panned out it was almost a wonder Duke hadn’t already been introduced to his very first, very own padded cell. He’d seen some sh*t that he just couldn’t explain and slept very little over the past two weeks. It was a deadly combination and just coming here felt crazy on its own. It was a drastic step, but things were getting weird…<br/>He needed answers.<br/><br/>After checking over the images he gingerly made his way to the front desk, feeling very small compared to the tall walls of the place and the looming doorway.<br/><br/>“Um… hi, Duke Hollingly… here to see A-Alice Hilts?” He introduced himself to the receptionist and because she looked particularly bored and incredulous he felt the need to anxiously add, “I should have an appointment?”<br/><br/>The receptionist, a slightly plump, peroxide blond number, looked him up and down, one well drawn brow raised, drumming her acrylics against the desk, “…Maybe…” she said, typing in the name. No one came to see Alice and she was suspicious. It wasn’t the first time someone had tried this, but this kid didn’t look like no reporter type to her… he DID have a camera though…<br/>“You’re gonna have to leave that here,” She narrowed her eyes at the offending item and it took Duke a moment to realise just what she was talking about.<br/><br/>“Oh… Oh!” his tired, pale eyes widened like lamps in shadowed alcoves and he chewed on his lips for a moment, wringing the strap in his hands… he didn’t want to leave it… it had all hid evidence on it, but then… he needed to speak to the Alice girl. Had to. For the sake of his brother.<br/><br/>“Here….” He shrugged it off and held it out, looking defeated without a battle and she swept it straight up, popping it on a shelf behind her.<br/><br/>“You can come back for it after. Hospital rules, for patient privacy.” She explained boredly as if he should already know and nodded at the screen, “Duke, is it?” she cracked a smile and it was a shock because she had a face that didn’t look capable of one, “Sorry, it’s just… we had a dog called Duke.”<br/><br/>The scrawny lads hand flew to his face to hide a wince. Of course she did. Duke wasn’t a people name and it was his mother’s fault… “Yeah… I get that… a lot… it’s like the Indiana Jones bit only in reverse…” came his well-rehearsed answer and she pointed down the corridor with a small chuckle.<br/><br/>“You’re looking for the day room. Down that way to the left, three doors down.”<br/><br/>“Ayup. Cheers,” he sighed, jammed his hands in his pockets and sloped anxiously down the directed path, ending up in a large open room.<br/><br/>There were windows all down one side and tables and chairs set up with various people milling about, chatting and… well doing whatever it was some of them were doing. A small part of Duke wanted to really scope the place out and guess what was wrong with people, but he decided against it, spotting a girl strapped in a wheelchair and double taking. It… it had to be her, he recognised the red hair and the bright eyes from the photograph in the newspaper. Alice. She had a face that was hard to forget and like any good teenage boy he found himself swallowing dryly and nervously figuring out whether she’d seen him and could he get away stepping back outside or not…<br/><br/>‘Jesus, Duke! Grow a pair why don’t you!’ he scolded himself mentally, straightening his chewed-up, three-sizes too big leather jacket and forced himself to put one foot in front of the other. In no time he’d crossed the space between them and he stood at arms length, awkwardly scratching the back of his head, “Are you Alice? Alice Hilts?”