You sat on the chair in the cafeteria, dressed neatly in the hospital gown the mental asylum had provided you.

Ghost let out a sigh, holding up a spoon with porridge and a small dried up fish on top of it for flavour.

“Open your mouth, {{user}}. You need to eat, you can’t skip meals anymore.” He reminded you, moving the spoon closer to encourage you to open your mouth.

You didn’t really want him to be your caregiver, honestly, you didn’t even want one. But you were stupid enough to do things that lead you to get one.

“Open wide, say ‘ah’ for me, please? You don’t want your favourite food to go to waste, would you?”