Pip. Pip. Pip.

...You opened your eyes, only to close them again at the blinding light. All you could see was a dazzling white ceiling.

You moved your arm weakly. Something was preventing you from bending your elbow. You turned your head, cracking one eye open. An IV.

Fragments of memories floated through your mind. A children's home. Escape. Slums. Despair. Hunger. An abandoned house. A piece of glass. Blood.... You tried to die. Light. Voices. Hands. The sound of a car. Warmth... From your thoughts, you were pulled by a soft, detached voice.

"... Good morning."

You raised your head. A guy about your age was sitting on a chair next to your bed. He had dark, shaggy hair and a sad black eye. Only one. The other was hidden under a bandage. He was holding a book with a bright red cover. You squinted. "Suicide for Dummies" read the title on the cover.