all these thoughts stuck in my mind/spinning round like endless time/for once in my life I do wanna feel

Sum 41
Happiness Machine

The afternoon remained sunny - as innocent as ever. As if nothing else had happened that day.
The children were still playing, happy and content, outside the House.
At least that's what you could think of and describe when you hear the young laughter that came in from the outside sounding in the hospital room.
The hospital room actually looked exactly like the normal sleeping quarters. Only with the difference that, of course, there were medical supplies instead of their own private stuff. Also, there were only two beds in the room as the shelves of medicine, the spacing of the beds and the curtains that were planted at the top of each bed made the room even tighter.
Although the hospital room could be crowded with all these things, it still seems deserted and abandoned. A room also makes a lot of how often people are inside and use it.
Of course, it often happened that children hurt themselves while playing, but the room also does its job well: All the resources needed for the doctor are stored. But basically that was the only task of the hospital room. For it was almost never a child ill to send it to the sickbeds.
Because the hospital room is so rarely used, some children, when they passed the closed door, often came up with the idea whether they should simply write down a storeroom for medicine with a pen on the door. But the thought vanished quickly. One time, because Mom would catch her while scribbling, which would be the consequence of having to clean it all up by herself. And which child would like to voluntarily clean the doors? Not many, which is why nobody wanted to provoke.
But another reason is that the children did not realize this idea until the hospital room was used. When it is used, it is then no more storeroom, then was the next thought of the child who passed it. If a child had run past this room at this time, it would have had the same thought at that moment. For in the hospital room two children were sitting inside, listening to the laughter from outside.
Emma lay on the hospital bed closest to the door. Her eyes were still closed. Whether she still slept, one could not recognize. The blanket, which was almost pulled up to her chin, hid her entire body. Only at the bottom, at her feet, peeked out the plastered right leg.
Norman sat on a small stool next to Emma on the right side of the hospital bed. His back pointed in the direction of the door. He watched Emma's sleeping face from above. At least he suspects that she is sleeping.
Norman raised his sight and looked at the barred window as if he were watching the direction of the outside noise. Norman is already used to this sight and yet he is a little bit surprised to viewed it all from a different angle.
Knowing the hospital room, Norman knows it better than no one else. He had been to the hospital so often that he could be considered a regular customer. If the hospital room was even used at all, when a child was ill, then everyone was sure that it could be 95 percent Norman, who was sick in bed here. Every time Norman had to go into the hospital room, you could almost hear the hospital room talking Welcome new custome-... Oh, it's just you again, Norman. He had been sick so many times that he had gotten used to it. Just as he is used to the fact that he was often alone while the other children had played with each other. Yeah, Norman always thought, loneliness can hurt no matter how many times you're used to it. One could almost speculate that Norman would therefore pay more attention to his health, because he does not feel like once again lying alone in bed sick. Whether it would be a paranoia of him not to get sick, but Norman doubts very much. Every child would have been fed up with it in its place, when it got sick again in several short periods of time.
Since Norman kept constantly in bed, it was even more unusual for him, that he once visited someone who himself was in the hospital bed, let alone sit next to the hospital bed. By giving him a new perspective, the hospital room seemed almost new to him, rather than always looking at the same, familiar spot on the ceiling or the view from the bed height.
He would certainly have these thoughts buzzing through his head, if he had been normal and healthy. But he was not at the moment. Norman might be physically fit, but his mind was still buzzing with various dark thoughts that he just could not get rid of.
Thoughts are also a phenomenon, he thought as he looked at the window. Not only are they produced by one's own brain - which is another reason why the monsters are so greedy for the brain - thoughts can also influence one's self. Once mental - that which makes one to the individual human. Emotional - the mental health of a person. Both physically - all bodily functions of the human body. Norman had heard that thoughts could affect the body over time. Depression has always been used as a perfect example of how to harm one's own body without supposedly doing nothing. All you need is the brain that produces the special thoughts and - et voila - you have a repetitive reaction that harms you. So it's possible to trigger things by self talking all the time. So if you keep telling yourself that you're sick you're sick you're sick, you'll actually get sick yourself over time.
When Norman started thinking about influencing things, he often wondered himself if that was the reason why he got sick so often. You never know, he thought to himself, maybe he would very deeply subconsciously get sick, that he would talk it over unnoticed again and again. Or Norman already had such a stage in his head that it was the most natural thing for him to get sick immediately with every sign. That these considerations were all just nonsense, he was immediately logical. He was often sick, that's right. But it had never been nice that he could even begin to like it, not in hundreds of years! He simply accepted that he caught a cold more frequently than other children. Just as he accepted to be a little regular costumer in the hospital room, which was most often inside, to Mom, when she went in with other kids.
Norman lowered his gaze back to Emma's face. Her closed eyes tightened and trembled. It seemed as if the rest of her face wanted to do the same, and winced slightly as well. Her mouth twisted, and her tense lips showed a bit that her teeth were clenching. You could also see in some places of the forehead and temples, as slowly formed some drops of sweat. Focusing less on the face instead on the body under the blanket, one also realized here that the rest of the body tensed. Except for the plastered leg. Norman could conclude that Emma was not asleep, but only with her eyes closed deep in her thoughts. At least that's what Norman thought, because for him, those tensions did not look like they'd be done in their sleep. He never actually watched people sleep, but for some inexplicable reason, he knew that was not typical. He was sure to know exactly which thoughts was buzzing around in Emma's head. Of course, he would have to know that, after all, the same thoughts came up to him, which reminded him again of the topic with the impressionable thoughts. I'm going to die, was his only thought, and he whirled so hard in his head that he threw away all other thoughts, like a hurricane that would otherwise do with cars and houses. He did not want to think about it, otherwise this thought will affect him and he will really die. It will not do anything, he knew that. No matter how many times he wanted to ignore that thought, it would not change the situation. He will die. It can not be changed, whether he want it or not. Whether he knows it or not, he can not and will not change it. You will die, his most objective thoughts speak to him, dot, over, end.
All Norman could do was be with Emma and look at her. So he tried to distract his own thoughts chaos at least a little something. Emma had always conjured a smile on his face in every situation and calmed him down. Because Norman noticed that Emma herself tormented with their own thoughts, where he also recognized the fact he wanted to redeem even from her thoughts and calm, turning them gently spoke with a smiling voice.

»Emma«
It was just a single word that Emma heard, but it was enough to hear so much from that single word. While the gentle Emma still echoed in her head, which before had overcome the massive wall of thought, it parted in the emotions it consisted of and could be heard. It was a friendly tone that was meant to reassure, but a very small part showed slight signs of grief, fear, ignorance, and repression. Tucked away deep inside was a desperate cry for help. Not just the simple body language, even a single word can contain so much hidden information, if you only pay attention to it.
Norman, was Emma's first clear thought, it was Norman's voice; only he himself had a voice that resembled a sad smile. A beautiful honest friendliness with a bittersweet dark grief. It just had to be his voice.
Emma slowly opened her eyes, she could still see Norman from her view on the left side, without moving her head. She felt a dull pressure on her right leg as it was plastered in pain. But she no longer felt the pain she felt then when the bone was broken fresh and clean. Slowly, her eyes moved in the direction that Norman was in, and later on, her head turned a little. He was still looking at her, completely unchanged. Maybe Emma expected that it really was not Norman sitting next to her. But it was still Norman - Norman of flesh and blood.
Flesh and blood...
Suddenly a picture came to Emma's mind that was a mixture of memory and imagination. It was only for a fraction of a second, but for Emma it felt like the image had been burned into her memory for a long time. As if she was looking at a painting. A terrible-sad death painting. Emma looked back to where she herself had been there a few weeks ago. She stood in front of the truck where she had found the dead Conny shocked. Only there was not to see Conny, who was lying dead in the truck bed - it was Norman.
He lay with his back in the truck bed, on which some water gathered to form a puddle, in which he lay in the middle of the puddle, slightly drenched; Around this puddle some leaves swam around his body. his head was at the back of the truck bed, his feet pointing forward to Emma's line of sight. He was dressed smartly, he wore a light brown long trousers, held by a white belt and matching fine shoes. Up down he wore a white long-sleeved shirt, where presented at the collar a finely-bound tie. Over it one could recognize a brownish vest. This was covered with a black jacket. On the shirt where his heart would have to lie in place, a dry, bony plant sticking out as if it had been planted there. The flowers on the dry plant flowered strongly and were absorbed with a deep red color. The gruesome picture showed closer to Norman's head. His right side lay in the puddle so that his complete left side of the head was presented. His initials 22194 were prominent on the neck. On his hair you could see very well his protruding swirled strand of hair. His face showed a lifeless expression. The mouth was slightly open, so that slightly the teeth came to light. His eyelids were slightly closed, giving the impression of hiding his sky blue eyes and never wanting to show them again. The whole face screamed that it was over with the one; his life was over, he could never wake up again. As this face also reflected in the puddle, it seemed as if the effect of the expression of the face was twice as strong. The whole gruesome sight screamed at Emma again and again and again with the same information.
Norman is dead. He is dead he is dead he is dead.
Emma could not stand this picture in her head anymore. No, he can not be dead yet, she thought, as that image disappeared again and she saw the living Norman of flesh and blood again. He's sitting right in front of her, he can not be dead yet. He can not die yet.
She wanted to be with the living Norman and slowly stretched out her left hand to him, trembling.
What do I do?
Her hand still shook slightly in the air for a short time.
Norman is going to die!
Norman understood her gesture immediately. His left hand reached under her left hand, so that his fingers touched her palms slightly. He then put his right hand on her hand surface. It seemed as if Emma's left hand was carefully enclosed by Norman's hands. Like a blanket, if you wanted to keep warm. It seemed like a double security. Emma looked at his hands first and followed her gaze to Norman's face.
His face was different from the terrible-sad death painting that shot in her head earlier. The face had no lifeless expression. It was the same face Emma always knew from Norman.
Norman smiled at Emma.
Emma saw that smile and could not endure it for long.
The sight was exactly what she had just heard from Norman's voice. It showed his beautiful sad smile. A smile that radiated a beautiful honest kindness and at the same time showed a bittersweet dark grief. The smile that consisted of grief, fear, ignorance and repression. Grief and fear because he knew he was going to die. Ignorance, because he does not know how to escape from this impasse. and repression, because he does not want Emma to show how much he was burdened by these feelings and thoughts. It was recognized, if you looked at the smile, a very deep hidden desperate cry for help.
Emma could not endurethis help-screaming smile for much longer, trying to find signs that proved hispresence in front of her was alive.
To see if someone was really dead, you could read many parts of his body. But you can also use this body reading the other way round. It is common for every human to live by looking at them. But if you asked more closely how you really knew that, the answer became more complicated, even though it seemed so easy. It is actually easier than you think to recognize points that make a living person. It took not even ethical, social or philosophical expertise, it was enough to know how the human body works. Movements, reflexes, temperatures, even colors reveal much. As is Sister Krone once said.
As Emma glanced at his face, she clearly saw that Norman's clear sky-blue eyes (next to looking at Emma) blinked, if you paid attention. A natural reflex that is already solid proof that he looked at it alive. In a dead eyes remain otherwise cramped open when the rigor mortis occurs. Of course, this also counts the other way round if they are closed forever. Keeping her eyes lifeless forever reminded Emma of the image of the dead Norman, so looking at her eyes made her feel uncomfortable and kept looking for vivid signs.
Norman's chest moved slightly forward and backward. It was easy to see that the clothes moved slightly to the movement of the chest. Breathing. The respiratory reflex. Norman breathed. Into his body, there was an eternal cycle that went so fast that it was hardly noticeable and it even seemed quiet, if one only paid attention to the movement of the chest. Air came into Norman's body. She made her way through his throat, his larynx, his windpipe, and his lungs toward the bronchi, all the way down to the alveoli. His ribs made his lungs spread apart so that the air would have enough room to catch and convert to oxygen. The process then began to play backwards. The converted carbon dioxide had to go out. His lungs contracted, his ribs continued to lungs. The way back to his alveoli, his bronchi, out of his lungs. Next to his windpipe, his larynx, to his throat, until the air was breathed out by Norman. All this could be seen and felt by the slight movement of his chest. Emma felt a faint whiff of a warm puff of air on her left wrist. She could feel through the skin of her hand the way Norman breathed. His breath was very short and cool, but still warming.
While both Norman's hands were holding Emma's hand all the time, she could tell by her hand that a very slight pressure came from his thumb touching Emma's hand. The pressure was barely noticeable and moved in a slow rhythm. It had been a pulse that came from the thumb. Norman's pulse. Blood that flowed through his entire body in all bloodstreams. Norman's blood. What Emma felt was Norman's own blood that was alive as ever in his body.
His hands felt warmer and warmer after some time. Not that the hands got too warm after the set time - on the contrary, they always stayed comfortably warm - Emma noticed as her hand slowly warmed up in it. She noticed it because sweat was slowly forming on the hand; if, then only very lightly.
Everything Emma could see, feel and sense at that moment screamed for Norman to be alive. He is alive. Really alive! Even so, he will die even though he is sitting here in front of her alive. This is a cursed vicious circle of thoughts, buzzing in her head. He will die and still he is with Emma and smiles at her reassuring.
He's alive now.
He kept looking at her with a reassuring smile.
He's right in front of me.
His organs worked nonstop for breathing.
Breathing.
He still held her hand calmly with both hands.
His hand is so warm.
And yet...
Norman moved her hand down so that he could gently set it down and let it go. Norman's calm smile remained. It was quiet for a few seconds until Norman began to speak reassuringly.
»Don't worry. All she took was the rope.«
Emma reacted to what he said, but did not answer and let him continue.
»She didn't figure out our true plan. And your leg will heal. You'll be able to escape.«
For Emma everything suddenly felt cold.
No! I don't care about that right now!
Norman slowly rose from his stool and pointed his body toward the door. The ground creaked as his legs braced themselves on the floor. He kept looking at her with a friendly smile.
»Hold on. I'll get you some water.«
Emma watched Norman turn his back to her, go to the door, and leave the hospital room.
I can't be sleeping. I need to think. Think of a way to prevent Norman from getting killed!
The door remained open and when Emma saw Norman go out, she heard children's voices calling her name and approaching the hospital room. 

Norman was just leaving the hospital room and almost lost in his thoughts, barely noticing the younger children running into the hospital room, shouting for Emma.
»Emma! You got hurt?«, could still hear their voices from outside. But Norman did not pay attention. How Emma reacted to the others was no longer present in Norman's mind. The only thing he was concentrating on was just going to the water taps that stood right next to the big double door in the dining room and filling a glass with water. For him, there was only the hallway that led to the dining room. In addition, all his thoughts, which arose after the almost silent exchange of words with Emma. Everything else was fade out.
I am so pathetic.
This self-insulting phrase kept reoccurring in his mind over and over, his legs unconsciously leading like an autopilot to the dining room. For him, that sentence was not an insult, it was just a fact.
Making Emma look so devasted.
Norman entered the dining room. A few children ran past him. They grinned and held A4 sheets in their hands as they ran out. On the tables one saw some empty sheets and a few pens lie. Apparently, these children probably used their playing time to paint a bit. Norman would have done away with that later or said something to the children, but he was so absorbed in his gnawing thoughts that he almost showed an apathetic expression. Pictures, sounds, sentences, conversations. It all became more and more like a flood.
He picked up an oblong, thin glass that stood on a shelf next to the sink.
I'm really pathetic.
Norman turned on the tap and let the water run out. The water flowed out for a few long seconds without him holding the glass underneath. Instead of the water getting into the glass, it splashed like a waterfall down the tap and flowed into the drain on. Waste of water, someone would have said if the person had stood next to Norman. But after a longer wait, he now held the glass under the waterjet and looked at the self-filling.
The moment the waterjet splattered into the glass, Norman also saw something like the faucet, and all his pent-up thoughts, which had previously formed into emotions, rushed out of him very quickly and clearly, like a waterfall.
I want to live so much!
That was the thought that had settled in him all the time and grew through the constant death thoughts until Norman realized its meaning. His face lost in tension as he looked into the refilling glass and his smile, which he wanted to calm Emma, turned to the opposite: an uncertain expression held together by his grief and helplessness.
I thought I'd decided.
When this thought came, he looked through the glass, which was already more than half filled with water. A memory seemed to be reflected in it. He saw how he felt confident to Ray that he would use everything for the escape so he would not let Emma die. Also himself.
I thought I'd prepared myself.
He saw, in the ever-advancing water, in it now himself and Emma. It was the event where she rarely cried when the two had discovered the dead Conny before. Emma hugged him crying. He comforted her by choosing the hardest route to escape with her.
I want to keep living.
The water was filled to the brim.
I don't want to die.
The glass could no longer absorb the water, overcrowded and let the water splashing out again. The cold water ran over Norman's finger.
With everyone...
He saw from his inner eye all the children gathered in front of him with a smile. Even Ray smiled at him. Especially a smile stabbed him out of the crowd.
With Emma...
The smile he always wanted to see her for as long as possible. The smile that made him forget all worries for every brief moment and even gave him strength. The smile, which for Norman was the most beautiful sight he ever saw in his life. It was Emma's smile that made him feel a pleasant warmth.
The cold water burned in his hand and he let go of the glass. All the water from the glass and the continuing waterjet found their way back to the drain. The waste of water started again, the person would have said again, if he had still stood next to Norman.
Norman's body had no strength left. He dropped to his knees, almost like a wet sack. His arms were still shored against the edge of the sink.
He felt like crying. He could not hold this pressure anymore. All he just wanted was to live on and let his pent-up feelings be verbal and non-verbal. But neither of them worked, no matter how much he wanted both. Not only did Grace Field House have a wall, Norman himself had his own inside, which did not show his agonizing feelings. It was inhuman for Norman to show no feelings. Even if he dies, he was never inhumane and never will be.
The demons are not human. Mom is also a demon; because Mom shows no feelings, like a steel wall. So she can't be human! Norman is a human being; otherwise thoughts and feelings would not be around him. Otherwise he would not feel the need to go on living.
He just wanted to cry.
To let out tears. Scream around. Delimit himself. How to be the younger I at the time again. Show the others how he felt.
But he couldn't.
There were no tears.
I want to live i want to live I WANT TO LIVE!
The water was still running continuously.
Norman wished he could do the same.