Yo! I know, I know, even if you didn't know, I haven't written anything since last year. GASP I'm a terrible person! Although, you could probably guess that if you're reading this story.

Pairing: HitsugayaXKarin

With a CAPITAL X!!!!

But you know the drill; I don't own these darling characters.

Sterile white walls, (hopefully) sterile clothes, and a nice big sterile fucking door. A dark haired girl with noticeably pale skin sat on her beyond sterile white sheets on her oh-so-sterile metal spring mattress bed. Its wonder how fast she became accustomed to all the… sterility? Or maybe the occasional screams of that girl next door to her in her own little sterile white wonderland. Who knew she'd become near best friends with that screaming freak on the other side of her sterile white wall? She suffered from what someone might say Satan-knows-what, because in this place, it became much too clear that there was no benevolent being of a higher power.

But then, Karin Kurosaki, patient #218, never did believe in all that religious bullshit. As her public therapist said, "Patient #218 is… progressing along her own path." It was unfortunate that the Clinics' Therapist didn't give a damn, but that made it easier for our favorite soccer-player to spoon-feed her shit about "finding her way back to her beloved ones." They could rot for all she cared.

Fortunately, she had a reason for hating them. She supposed that it might have stemmed from her father not fighting against this "treatment" or her twin, Yuzu for not trying to reason with her father, and from their sappy "I can't live without you, I miss you!" letters. If they really missed her, they would know that Saturday was visitation day. Same for the Holidays. It sickened her to think that at one point, she clung to a desperate hope that they would one day come and save her from this smelless, tasteless, routine based hell-hole.

And then, there came her blessed Ichi-nii. Her hero. Her savior. And now, he was no where to be found. Soul Society had said he died in the Winter war, or was taken prisoner, or died in Hueco Mundo. They never really were specific. It was ok though, because she probably would have forgotten anyways, unless she already had.

She was so tired of sitting down to watery noodles suppose to be macaroni and cheese, or going to bed in an airtight room with only thoughts of tomorrow mornings anti-depressant to keep you out of the dark. Whether it was lithium or Prozac didn't matter. She usually didn't know what she was swallowing anyways.

The only up-side to this place was that when she got out, she could say that she had a clinically insane freak for a friend. She was sure the guys she used to play football with had all gone to college or had regular day jobs by now. She was after all 19. Thinking back on it, she was surprised to realize that she had been in this barred-window community for 4 years. Huh.

"I wonder if colleges except crazy people." It was ok for her to talk in here, because the walls were always there to listen.