This story is going to be intense. Very intense. I'm writing it because I need to get some things off of my chest and this helps me do it. There are a lot of warnings associated with this story, as well. Suicide, self-harm, abuse (both relationship abuse and parental abuse), drug addiction and misuse, and just general angst and fear. Read at your own risk.

And please, please, please, if you're struggling then GET HELP. Suicide hotlines, school counselors, family, doctors, anything. Please. People care, I swear.

Burgess Mental Hospital. That was where Jackson 'Frost' Overland went after his suicide attempt. It was a dark spot on his already-dark record, he had to admit, but that didn't mean it didn't happen.

Jack couldn't remember all the details of being karted away to the abhorred place. He had a lot of alcohol in his system and two bottles of half-digested pills covering his pants in a black sludge. His foster parents, the Bennett's, brought him a suitcase full of clothes and then were forced to leave.

Jack had gotten to the hospital at about two in the morning. It was dark and smelled terribly – if Jack hadn't been rather drugged up and dehydrated he would have noticed the second (though the boy himself didn't smell much better). He was ushered into a dark room where the night-shift nurse flicked on the lights, giving Jack a plastic gown that was open in the back and telling him to undress completely so she could examine him before he redressed. He swallowed thickly, his mouth so dry that his tongue stuck to the ridges on the roof of his mouth. Rugae, he recalled to himself, not making very much sense in his weak state. The riffs on the roof of your mouth are called rugae.

The nurse looked over his body, asking him questions that he would have lied about before that day – or was it yesterday? Is it morning yet? Last I checked it was only eleven but I feel like I've been up for years now – but now he was helpless and had to answer truthfully. When the woman pointed at his ribs and asked him if he ate a proper amount he shook his head no. When she pointed to the scars lining his skin and the fresh wounds that would bleed on occasion when he moved the wrong way he had admitted to her that they were from his own hand. When she asked if he had truly wanted to die when he tried to kill himself, the answer was a terrified yes.

There were many, many papers that he had to fill out, even though Jack knew that he was technically thirteen, meaning that they wouldn't be able to legally hold him to anything. They also gave him a packet but told him he just had to fill that out until he was allowed "off until." They took some clothes out of his suitcase, checked them very carefully while marking things down with a pen and paper, and gave them to him to sleep in before telling him that he could go to bed. They asked if he would like anything before he went to sleep. He asked for some water and the nurse returned with a cup full of it. He drank in down quickly before she took it and left.

He then laid down, feeling tired enough to sleep for a few days. He was about to go to sleep when the nurse returned and shined a flashlight in his face and the face of his two roommates – both of which had been unnoticed until that moment. He blinked curiously, but settled back down into a half-sleep.

That was, until the nurse returned and shined the flashlight into their faces again. Jack groaned and the nurse looked at him carefully to make sure that he was alright before she left. Jack sighed and fell asleep this time, not realizing that the nurse came in every fifteen minutes to check on them.

That night, he didn't even notice that his roommate was probably the loudest snorer that he had ever roomed with ever, either. Or the fact that they drew his blood while he was asleep.

When Jack woke up, it was because everyone else was also waking up. He really, really didn't want to get up yet, but he had to. Rather than questioning things, he just went with the flow.

When he left his room he saw everyone scrambling around and doing things. He couldn't exactly make sense of it, so he just sat in an empty chair and waited for people to tell him what to do. He wasn't in the mood to think for himself.

After a while, he was told that he would have to stay 'on unit' (whatever that meant), and that he would be eating lunch in the secure area of the B Wing, because he hadn't been evaluated by a doctor yet and wasn't ready to go to the cafeteria. Inside they brought him a box with a plastic fork, and he picked at his food until he was allowed to give it back to the nurse, who frowned when they noticed how little Jack ate. They had given him a vegan option, because last night they had asked if he had any diet restrictions. He couldn't believe that they actually have a vegan option because the only reason he became a vegan was because he didn't really want to eat.

The nurse marked something down on a paper and then handed Jack a pill and another cup of water. "Here, we did your blood tests while you were sleeping," she said, making Jack shiver due to the fact that he didn't even wake up for it. "We're starting you off on ten milligrams of Prozac, and if you respond well we'll bump you up to twenty…" the nurse continued talking, mentioning side effects and bullshit like that, so Jack zoned out a little, making sure to keep an ear out for a change in drone – or, tone. If their tone changed then he should actually listen.

"So, tell me, what are you taking?" The nurse asked. He paused for a moment before replying, his voice unsure.

"Ten milliliters of Prozac?" He asked her, knitting his eyebrows together. She shrugged, correcting him to milligrams instead of milliliters before giving him a white capsule and water. He took it and drank all of the water, as instructed. She left, but not before mentioning that he would have to eat at least half of his next meal or else he would be phase dropped.

He didn't want to know what that meant.