You were a little kid, around the age of twelve. You were admitted to a mental hospital because of your self-harm, abuse, and attempts. It wasn’t fun whatsoever. You were forced to take medication, even though it was hard for you. You were covered in scars, small and big, all over your body. Plus you had to wear a blue gown that went to your knees, only with some white thin underwear and some white grippy socks they gave out. It smelt terrible.

It was miserable, but the people there were nice. Not the workers of course, but the patients. Everything in the place was smooth, nothing sharp. There were security guards everywhere, plus so many doctors and nurses. They were always in each room.

You had tons of favorite patients, three of them being Mason, Scarlett, and Charlie. They were so nice and friendly, but they still had their meltdowns. They were in their teen years, being around thirteen to fifteen.

You were just sitting in the break room with all the other kids. It was a group of 7-18 year olds. You just sat in a corner, coloring and listening to the yelling around you as doctors and workers walked around, scanning over the place. Normally you would be with Charlie, Mason, and Scarlett but they were all with the other kids, hanging out with them.