Prescription for (in)Sanity

All Rights Reserved ©

On Report

Another day. Another fight. Another night to find a way to kill time.

Ciaran was out of breath again this time when he passed some security gates. His lip was cut and it stung rebelliously, but he nevertheless lit up a new cigarette. Pushing back his unruly hair, at that Ciaran gave a half hearted thought that he should cut it, he stopped then to give a look at a familiar pair.

The boy lay limply on the pavement at the corner, completely still, staring at nothing. She was bent over him, staring into his eyes and slapped his face.

"Devin. Devin, can you hear me?" she yelled into his ear over the traffic. She barely got a response from him, just the merest twitch of an eyelid. Pressing two fingers to his neck she sought for a pulse and found it erratically beating in his veins. "Shit," she whispered.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked from right behind her.

She turned around to see Ciaran standing there, his green eyes trained on Devin. "I don't know," she told him.

"Withdrawal?"

"No. Something more, I think."

Ciaran looked at her sharply. "That fucking silence he always tricks for?"

Cait bit her lip and looked away. "He hears voices inside his head," she finally whispered.

"You're his friend, aren't you?"

"We use each other," she retorted acidly. "I wouldn't exactly call that friendship but yeah, I suppose he's my friend. In a way."

Ciaran took a long drag from his cigarette, sighing and slowly blowing the smoke out. He was getting soft. "Sweet. The pair of you. Just fucking sweet."

He bent down and picked Devin up in his arms, carrying him inside the nearest club which he had been heading to anyway. He gave the bouncer a knowing look passing him with the unconscious boy and Cait in tow.

Once inside Ciaran jerked his head towards a back room. Cait followed him without a word, still sucking on the acid paper in her mouth. They ignored the people in the middle of the room who were seeing who could bleed the longest without passing out and then shooting drugs into the tears on their arms. Ciaran dropped Devin on the floor near a corner without preamble, jarring some sense into the redhead. Blue eyes blinked open slowly.

"R-raythe?" he mumbled.

"Careful," Cait snapped as she knelt beside Devin. "What're you going to do?"

"Fuck him till he passes out," Ciaran said calmly as he went to the group and threw down a wad of bills before scooping up three syringes. He returned to the pair and handed them to Cait. "Here. Cheap shit but it's better than nothing. Shoot him up."

She scowled up at him. "Why?" she asked, but she was pulling up Devin's sleeves anyway.

"He wants silence? I figure unconsciousness is going to be the best place for him but I'm not too inclined to beat him there," Ciaran told her as he knelt and began to undo the redhead's pants.

"How considerate of you," Cait told him in a harsh voice as she searched for a vein and emptied the first needle into the skinny arm.

"Don't think I'm doing this for free," Ciaran growled as he pulled Devin’s pants off his long legs. "The kid'll owe me."

"He'll work it off," Cait assured him as she emptied the second needle. "He's good at that."

"So I've heard," Ciaran replied as he unzipped his pants. "You done yet?"

"Yeah," Cait replied as she extracted the final needle and sat back. Tossing the syringes aside she leaned back and took a drag, ignoring the soft moan that Devin made when Ciaran entered him. Reaching out she threaded her fingers through his red hair and held on to the thick locks tightly.

She stayed by Devin's side throughout the whole night and the three times where Ciaran coupled with him to send him back into oblivion where the drugs and alcohol and pain acted like a buffer to protect him. When dawn broke over the city, Ciaran left them alone in the room.


The early morning haze and damp air from the night made him groan irritably as he wandered along the streets, not paying attention that he was at a high alert zone of the city still. During the nights it was one thing, but once the morning rolled over, he should’ve been at the academic district and getting ready for a lecture at the study hall.

Ciaran’s mind still lingered on the unconscious boy who he had used during the night.

'Always looking for that silence,' he wondered while taking the last drag of his cigarette. That request had run even Ciaran's resources dry. He wanted to deliver it all, but he wanted them to keep coming back. After all, what was more fun than to watch the mind shatter into pieces.

Lost in thought he had to do a double take when a patrolling security officer stopped him and asked him to get in the vehicle. Staring wide-eyed from the officer to the patrol car several times it finally occurred to him. Feigning a surprise he felt a steady hand grab onto his shoulder and push him closer to the vehicle.

"Easy now, kid. Everything is going to be alright," the officer spoke and escorted him in after scanning his ID. Closing the door, the officer called in the pick-up code and went back to the driver seat to continue the patrol.

On one hand Ciaran was glad that he had a ride, but it was a troublesome one. He'd hear no end of it, but he still had to play along the role of being lost and more or less drugged up. Keeping his eyes blankly on the floorboard of the vehicle, he steeled himself for the worst beating once he got back home.

"Hey, can we go straight to the station," he spoke with a low voice. He wanted to avoid going home right now as much as possible. Ciaran's mind raced through everything he knew, finding a path to get away with the least amount of pain.

The officer looked up to the rearview mirror and nodded after a moment. He had recognized the name on the ID, but decided to keep it to himself. For now. He steered the vehicle casually through the streets, glancing occasionally to the back.

Ciaran frowned at the long route that they took, but made no attempt to escape. His hands fiddled on his phone in his coat pocket. He typed messages by memory and kept a the blank mask on his face the entire time. Even if he thought that politics were redundant, he did have a network of his own from all the parties. His father had enemies for sure and they always tried to approach through Ciaran, thinking that he was the weakest link.

When they arrived to the station finally, Ciaran chuckled softly as he glanced outside. He got out like a celebrity with half the officers of the station waiting in line. He tried his best not to laugh at the mock bows that they gave to him, causing the officer in charge of his detention look extremely confused.

Ciaran applauded to them. "At ease boys," he managed to call back as the officer lead him inside. He had his highs and lows with acquaintances, but made sure to keep his distance.

After hours of questioning and sobering himself up, Ciaran was released without further hold up. He figured it was either because of his father or they just didn't dare to keep him there longer.

He was driven back to his own district and left just outside his home door. Dreading the reception, he let the officer deal with his father who came to answer the door. He pushed past him and stalked to his room.


Ciaran laid comfortably on a couch. A book placed over his face as he keep reciting numbers, names, historical places that were taught as education. His bored voice was steady, monotonous. Not finding it hard to memorize things.

"Are we done?" he finally asked, with a hint of hope, raising the book to see over to the other side of the room.

An older man, with black hair, silver already near the temples watched the misty horizon of rooftops through a wall of windows that reached from floor to ceiling. The sun was just about to rise. "You have your exams soon; you should take a little more time to rev-"

"Enough with that shit!" Ciaran shouted, tossing the book to the floor. It slammed to the floor loudly. The silence in the otherwise empty apartment was almost painful. He got up from the couch, looking for something else to toss in his anger.

"I'm sick of being cooped up at home! That was one time! One! One time that cops brought me home. And that was because I took a wrong turn!" Ciaran shouted. His eyes glaring at his guardian's back with seething frustration. As the man turned around with concern, Ciaran sank back down on the couch.

"Young master, you must understand that it is your father's wishes that..."

But Ciaran wasn't listening, he was sick of that explanation. He knew fully that he was now being kept an eye on. Model student. Perfect grades. Modest. Silent and obedient to the laws. Well, on the public face at least. But then one fuck up and he had to have a whole month of house arrest.

Rubbing the bridge between his eyes, Ciaran took a deep breath. "Get out..."

An abrupt silence fell in the room and he was left alone. The 'please' hung silently in the air, but he couldn't get himself to say it anymore. Ciaran glared at the ceiling irritably. Being left alone didn't make him feel any better, but he wasn't allowed any guests either. He was soon going to graduate and having to put up with the regulations were the last draw for his patience.


Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered book publisher, offering an online community for talented authors and book lovers. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books you love the most based on crowd wisdom.