As double doors opened and light poured out, blinding you, two large men in nurse scrubs were already waiting for you inside. The officials who had taken you here handed you off to them and they lead you down a hall. Well, you didn't follow willingly, you were kinda dragged there while you cursed and threatened them.
When they pushed you into a small office, you finally forced yourself to breathe as you are seated into one of the chairs sitting across from a desk. The room was just as clean and sanitary as the rest of the place, and this entire building had always reminded you of a hospital. Especially in the mental health part of one.
"Miss (Y/N), so nice to see you again," the woman across from you says pleasantly, but you know she's faking it. She hated your face, you could see it in her eyes. "Of course, it isn't nice that you're here again. I wish I could've seen you outside of the hospital, healthy and happy. So what brings you here this time?"
"I wanted to see your beautiful face again," you say with a snarky grin. Her lips are still knitted into a tight smile, and she just chuckles at you. You know deep inside, she's probably thinking of throwing you down a garbage disposal by now.
"You're always so pleasant to be around, Miss (Y/N). It's always such a delight, yet a shame, to see your bright smiling face here. You should be happy, and clean, living your life. Can you tell me what brought you to us again?"
"I was doing drugs," you say in monotone. You tell her the same thing every time, you really have no clue why she still bothered to ask you.
Instead, you let your new nurse friends do the talking for you. Reading from a piece of paper the police had given them, they told her exactly what lead up to you being here, starting with the party with your friends and ending with you stabbing somebody to death in an acid-induced high. But he didn't ever mention what happened during the party, because he doesn't know. You intend to keep it that way.
So they ask you the usual questions and you answer the same every time.
"Age?"
"21."
"Orientation?"
"Whatever you want, sexy."
"No, I meant as in job occupation."
You already knew this. You've been here so many times and answered the same questions every single time that you'd think they'd get the idea to stop bugging you every time by now.
By the time they had finished questioning you, you could see the orange and pink horizon through the window(they arrested you probably around 3, so hot damn was this interview dragged out.) and you just wanted to go to sleep. Forever, preferably.
They notice you yawning and Dr. Minerva, the woman who's been interviewing you all night, smiles politely(ha) at you.
"Don't worry, we're almost done here. You just have to sign these papers and we'll be good."
"What if I don't want to sign them?" You retaliate, trying your best to shift out of your soft doze and glare at her.
"Then we'll just take you to jail instead," she simply offered.
"Why didn't you take me there to begin with?" you say, flustered, as you look at your worn out shoes in disgust. Your life really has gone downhill.
"Because you've been with us before, (Y/N). We know that we can help you on the path to greater good," she softly touched your hand, the sudden warmth making you flinch away. "I know that you have the strength in you to save yourself."
Save yourself? Ha. That's a laugh. There is no hope for you, you've a accepted that long ago, and now you're just enjoying life while it lasts. By partying and drinking and sleeping with men to rob them for cash. It was a system that worked for you, seeing as you had virtually no skills besides one. The one skill you have? Sucking dick. For coke.
Aren't you just a fucking doll?
You look at Dr. Minerva, and you feel a bit uncomfortable with the way she's looking at you. What's her problem?
Slowly, she slides a box of tissues towards you. The cold realization hits you and you take a few, furiously wiping away at your cold wet cheeks.
Why would you? Why here? Why now?
This is fucking bullshit, they think they help, but why are you fucking crying—
The door opens and a very anxious looking man peeks through. You recognize him as Mr. Lion, the man who works at the reception desk of this particular wing. You always thought his name was fitting due to his crazy orange hair. Though he scared easily.
"S-so sorry to interrupt, ah, but we're gonna be needing Johnny and Cloud-" he says, motioning to the two large nurses who had originally dragged you into the clinic. "It's Pickles. Again."
You look back to Dr. Minerva, who is chewing nervously on the end of a pencil.
"Right, well, go on then. Please ask another nurse to come back here, though. And bring Pickles here once you've calmed him down a bit, okay? I'll talk to him before I clock out this morning." Her sleek black hair bobbed with her movements, and though she was obviously pained not one hair was disheveled on that petite little face of hers.
And so they left to go deal with this 'Pickles' guy, who was most likely just as whored out on drugs as you are. And anyways, who names their child Pickles? Seriously.
"I'm sorry about that," Dr. Minerva said, turning back to you. "It has to do with another one of my more…err…recurring patients. Anyways, a nurse should be here shortly, now if you could sign these papers."
Softy pushing the paper clipped papers toward you with a pen, you look down at it and sigh. Taking the pen, you sign your name, which is mainly just a bunch of dumb lines and loops. You were always too lazy to do your whole name and resolved with a cool looking squiggle design.
And just like that, you watched your freedom slip away from you and be tucked into a desk for safe keeping.
You're gonna be stuck here for a while.
•
When you finished the papers with Dr. Minerva, your favorite nurse(not), Donovan, swings by to take you to your room. You assure him that you know where your room is and begin to head down the hall at a fast pace, him right on your heels.
You entered the hall with all of the patients' rooms through the double doors. You've seen these halls several times over the years, and they never change. Not even the paintings, the only difference is that the manager to get they're dusted every week.
There was a new nurse at the meds station, though. That was different. She was cute, taller with a thick body wearing nice fitting scrubs and her red hair tied into a lazy bun. Maybe you'll flirt with her when you take your pills later.
Fuck it, who are you kidding, of course you will. She is super attractive and she looks young, plus you didn't see her last time; which means she must be a new nurse, so she might be insecure, which means she'll have sex with you— and you'll have special ties with the outside force. That means getting snacks or pizza or maybe even getting out early.
You approach your room at the end of the hall. Something was off; there were other nurses and officials crowding around the doorway(including Cloud, Johnny, and Mr. Lion. The door was open already(it's a rule) and you push past them, ignoring their protests and stepping inside, ready to make yourself comfortable on the shit-made bed, when you stop short.
Chartreuse green gazed into your (E/C) eyes, freezing you from deep in the core of your body until you found yourself unable to move or speak. The man who had been fighting the large and strong Bud, another nurse here you had come to hate so endearingly, immediately stopped struggling to look at you. Eyes darting down and up your body, a lopsided grin spread on his face and he pushed Bud away from him, stepping forward.
"Gotta love rehab, eh?" He said as he left the room. You watch as the nurses escort him away.
Bud sighed, deep in his throat, and walked past you. "Sorry about that. He wanted this room. Good to see you again," he added, dryly, as he exited the room.
You stood there a moment, unsure what to say. Was that the 'Pickles' guy they mentioned earlier? For a guy with a weird name, he was pretty damn hot. Maybe when you get out you'll give him your number?
You throw yourself into bed and look at the barred clock on the wall. Seven thirteen AM. Your eyes flutter closed and you pull the blanket close to you and it didn't take long for you to fall into a much needed sleep, despite the horribly uncomfortable bed. You hadn't slept in two days, after all.