I spent more and more time with Patrick, after that. It was nice being able to stay with him, sleeping in the same bed. I got to wake up to his face, every day, and then we’d make love, snogging like a pair of teenagers. Then we’d get up, get dressed, go through our morning routines, as if we were a married couple.
It didn’t matter to either of us that we stayed in a mental hospital.
It just didn’t matter, cause being together made it bearable.
He’d drive me to home so I could freshen up my overnight bag, grab the kids homework, and then drive me to school.
Course, sometimes we’d be a little naughty, and fuck in the elevator.
I was happy.