A/N: Hey everybody, this is just something that popped into my head. Please bear in mind that I have no knowledge of medicine or psychology and I am basing everything off of what I've seen on TV. I'm not sure how frequently I'll be able to update because I'm getting into prime paper writing season, and this is really just a way for me to de-stress.

"How are you doing today Bella?"

I actually think about my answer to the question. How am I? I am tired, frustrated, lonely, depressed and mildly hungry. None of these are positive things.

"I'm fine."

The doctor shakes his head at me, disappointment evident in his eyes. I cannot bring myself to care. I gave up caring about disappointing people a long time ago. If this doctor thinks I care more about disappointing him than I did about disappointing my parents and friends, then perhaps they should be on the other side of the coffee table with me.

"No Bella, you're not fine. I know you're not fine. Your chart says that you haven't been eating your meals regularly and that you haven't been sleeping well. Tommy says you haven't been taking your medication willingly. Can you tell me why that is Bella?"

He always does his best to put my name into the conversation. I think he thinks it will help us develop some sort of bond. He is wrong.

"The pills make my head foggy. I don't like it."

Dr. Snow looks at me, his eyes full of pity. "But Bella, the pills are what make you better. They are what keep you healthy. Don't you want to be healthy Bella?"

I could tell him that the pills aren't making me healthy, that I'm not an idiot who doesn't know the difference between happiness and the manufactured numbness medication brings. I could tell him that I don't want to be healthy, that I don't want to get better because at least if I'm locked up in here I can't see the hurt on Charlie's face. I could tell Dr. Snow that there's no pill strong enough to make me better, no drug powerful enough to make me forget and ease the pain. But I don't say any of these things.

"Yes Dr. Snow, I want to get better."

The doctor smiles, pleased I have said his name and agreed with him.

"Excellent Bella! I think we've made some progress today. Now before I send you back to your room there's just one more thing I want to talk to you about. The staff and I have all discussed this and we agree that you are a model patient. There is a group of students coming in from the university in the next couple of days to observe and have some one on one time with some of the patients, and we'd like to include you in the group of patients the students will be interviewing. If you agree and do well with this it could speed up your release a great deal. What do you think Bella?"

I resist the urge to laugh. I have participated in these programs five times before, each time with false promises of sped up release. I wish Dr. Snow would just tell me the truth. That I am nothing more than a glorified lab rat for some PhD candidates who want to study the crazy girl. Oh, they jazz it up in their minds, they're studying my "unique case" try to find the cause of my "depression and PTSD" and trying to figure out if I have some new disorder they can name after themselves. But what it all boils down to is a bunch of people around my age who want to study the crazy girl.

"Of course Dr. Snow." I say, "if you think it would be best." I try my best not to choke on the words as they come out of my mouth.

Dr. Snow is once again pleased and she thanks me before paging for Tommy to come and get me. Tommy is my assigned orderly, and I am his only patient. Don't I feel special.

Tommy walks me back through a maze of hallways that I am convinced are designed to confuse me in case I ever try to escape before unlocking the door to my room.

"I'll be back in an hour Bella, then you can have lunch and go to the rec room."

He leaves me alone with my thoughts for which I am grateful. It seems that everyone here always wants to know what I am thinking and feeling. They do not seem to care if I want to tell them or not.

I look around my small room. It is "decorated" entirely in neutral tones, mostly shades of gray, but I do not mind this because it makes things easier. Colors can hold memories so the fewer of them I have to see the better I tend to do. My bed is bolted to the floor and there are safety rails that keep me from falling out at night. I feel like a toddler, but it could be worse. Before it was determined that I was not a danger to myself or others I had restraints.

I also have a chair and a small bedside table with a book on it. I am allowed to go to the center's library once a week and pick out something to read. I think Charlie picked this facility because of its extensive library. I think he was hoping that I would be myself again if I read enough. He was wrong. I don't even know what book I chose last time.

Thoughts of books turn into thoughts of Charlie, which expand into thoughts of Renee. I distinctly remember the day I learned about the center. It was a few months after the event. I was sitting down at the table with Charlie when he told me he'd had enough and that I had two choices I could either see a therapist or move back in with Renee. I told him I had a third option and that I could move out. He asked me where I'd go. I told him the woods, or some abandoned building, but that I was not leaving Forks. He told me if I tried to hide out in the woods he'd just arrest me and they'd have to do a psych eval on me anyway. He said I could go to the therapist with the lights in the squad car on or the lights off, and that it was my choice. I chose to go with the lights off and we got in the car.

Dr. Karp was my first psychologist. She was a kind motherly looking woman who I was fairly sure had about as much of a brain as a cup of pudding. I sat with her for approximately half an hour before she called my father into the room and declared that I was unfit to live at home ay longer and she was recommending me for immediate transfer to a facility that could give me full time care. Charlie pleaded with her, asked if there was anything he could do differently that would allow me to remain at home. Dr. Karp said no.

Later that day I was admitted into the hospital for further observation and to give my dad time to select an appropriate facility that the doctors said could meet my needs. After a few days deliberation Charlie finally landed on Harborview, and center that boasted a few amenities and some somewhat decent doctors. I knew if he could he would have kept me home and hired full time care for me, but he was a public servant and the budget just didn't call for that.

I knew he called Renee, asking her to come and see me before I had to go into the center full time. She didn't come. I also knew that he'd asked her to come and visit me with him on various occasions. I'd gotten some lovely letters detailing how she was wishing me all the best but that she had her own issues to deal with and that she just couldn't handle mine right now.

Charlie came to visit me once every two weeks. It used to be more often, but in the last year or so, he'd started dating someone back in Forks, and I'd assured him that he did enough for me and that he deserved his happiness as much as possible. Sometimes he brought Sue up to visit me with him. I liked her. She made me muffins.

I was drawn out of my thoughts by a knock on the door, I didn't bother answering, I knew that Tommy would come in either way.

"Let's Bella, time to get you some food," he held out a little cup, "here, take these before you eat."

I took the cup and glass of water he offered. I stared at the pills for a moment before swallowing them down. Well, so much for coherency.