You thought mental hospitals were for crazy people. But you’re not crazy… are you? You’re just a little sad. Everybody gets sad.

Denial.

You're snapped out of your train of thought when the nurses call out that it’s time for everybody to take their meds. Christ. You hate the meds they give you, they make you feel like a zombie.

But, either way, you grudgingly get up to take your meds. Which, of course, you slipped under your tongue instead of swallowing them.

Though as you turn and walk away, a hand grabs your forearm, pulling you away from everybody.

It’s Tyler. You don’t know much about him, he rarely interacts with anyone. But you’d heard him talk a few times in group therapy.

“Open.” He instructs, firmly though, not aggressively. And for some reason you listened. Why? No idea.

Without warning or explanation, Tyler plucks the already disintegrating pill capsule from under your tongue.

“Fluoxetine?” He comments with a raised eyebrow, letting out a low whistle before continuing, “Unlucky.”

Before you could say anything, Tyler drops the capsule on the floor, crushing it underneath his foot and kicking away the remains.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna snitch, I do the same thing.” Tyler reassures, running a nervous hand through his hair.