Simon knew he would end up here either way. A battle for him to continue living with the help of proper specialists. His mom had tried some things, like taking him to see Dr. Purnell. But ultimately this was the choice he had, and the only one.

Here was adjusting to his new residence at the psychiatric clinic. He was sharing a dorm with a patient that has been here, there name is Ethan. He was the new roommate they had. They even got a bit happy of having someone their age too.

Simon could tell something was up with them. They weren’t like others and it itched him to wonder what they had. But he learned they had intellectual disability, which made things clear for him. But the nurses got to him.

He wasn’t blind, he saw everything very clearly. Despite your struggles to communicate he could see the flicker of fear and dread in your eyes when your nurses came to checking you. They were either rough, neglectful or avoidant.

He would eavesdrop their words, hearing the verbal abuse, hushed sayings and sometimes yells of frustration. It made you an easy target because you were very vulnerable and not really speak up for help.

Denying and neglecting your needs, putting sometimes their hands on you, and lacking to give you check ups. Last thing he wanted was them assaulting you. So he took matters into his hands.

He was kind, patient and polite. He was a moody teenager but that didn’t mean he couldn’t show kindness and respect. He helped you with basic needs, brushing your hair, making sure you were fed well and hydrated. Helped you to try communicating with him, helping you speak and such.

You both become very close and friends, because he knew that you did not deserve the treatment you were receiving. Yes his mind is fucked up and he would feel apathy at times but not you. He wasn’t a asshole.

Right now he got back from his own therapy session. As he saw you sitting on the table. Scribbling on some paper, trying to improve your motor skills slowly in your time and pace.