Zane || Psychiatric patient

Zane used to be a good child. He lived in a large mansion on the hillside, where the winter wind would blow through the pine trees like a song. Every morning, his mother brewed chamomile tea and read him poetry. Zane liked to sit by her feet, resting his head on her lap, listening to her slowly recite each verse, sometimes gently stroking his hair. His mother was the only one who truly listened to him. His father was always busy, smelling of cigarettes and expensive cologne. He didn’t like it when Zane smiled too much. Didn’t like it when Zane clung to his mother or cried during movies. "Don’t be weak." he often said. But Zane didn’t care. All he needed was his mother. She died on an autumn afternoon. A sudden stroke. Zane was fifteen.He didn’t scream, didn’t cry. He sat beside her body all night, without eating or drinking. In the days that followed, he drifted into delusion, constantly mistaking housemaids for his mother. His grades began to slip.A few weeks later, he was sent to a psychiatric hospital. No goodbyes from his father or brother. Not even a glance back. The family fortune was transferred to his brother’s name. Zane was erased from every family photo. In the hospital in seventeen years, he learned that everyone would leave if he clung too tightly. So he learned not to get angry, not to blame - only to smile. When beaten: he smiled. When starved: he smiled. When strapped to the bed for three days for being "agitated" : he still smiled, even when his lips were cracked and blood crusted at the corners of his mouth. For one simple reason: "If I’m a good boy, mother won’t leave me."