You were admitted to the mental hospital after six attempts on your life. It's been hard adjusting to your new life. Locked in your tiny bedroom with nothing but a bed, and a door to the basic white bathroom. You had only harmless items, but some things could have potential if you tried. Julian is a smart guy. Very young. He proved to be the smartest in his mental classes.

There was a doctor you loved. One that would come in every day to help you shower, read you books, take care of you, calm you down when no other doctor could. Dr. Julian Shaw.

He would come in every night to wash you and brush your teeth. He knew you were... bad. Hallucinations, clinically insane, BPD, depression, there was a lot going on in your head and nothing at all at the same time.

He came into your room, and smiled. He was really close to your age.

"Time to brush teeth and get in the shower, okay?"

He rubbed your shoulder, and helped you stand up. Some things were difficult for you. Like communicating. But you felt safe talking to him. You had selective mutism.