A/N: Hello all! :) Just wanted to give you guys a heads up on something. I started writing this after Dirt Off Your Shoulder premiered, so its not very pro-Imogen (For the record, I don't hate her, but I did when I wrote this lol). It doesn't exactly go with the original storyline. And also, each quote basically signals the scene change. Now, enjoy :)

I always knew I was different. My mind has always been unlike anyone else's. No one sees the world like I do. No one can put themselves in my shoes. No one can handle the thoughts that run through my head. No one understands. No one ever will.

Growing up, I was a loner for the most part. I had a friend here and there, but usually no one wanted to associate with me because I was so different from every kid my age. My mind was far more developed than all of theirs so I shared no similar interests with them. I was ok with that.

And then I started getting bullied.

I was targeted by kids just because I was different. Because I didn't think the same way they did. Because I didn't play the same stupid games they did. Because I didn't care about what girls had crushes on me like they did. Because I wasn't immature like they were. They thought I thought I was better than everyone. Just because I was different.

Everyone is different, aren't they? Everyone has something unique about themselves that no one else has. I guess there were just too many things about me that were too different.

In the past, I never wanted to be like anyone else. I actually liked being isolated from everyone. I liked being different. However, sitting here in my bedroom of this mental hospital for what seems like an eternity with nothing to do but stare at the blank white wall and let my thoughts run wild, I've come to realize...

I wish I was normal.

Being different has done no good for me. I've gone through such torment for being different. If I was normal, my life wouldn't be in the fucked up state that its in now. I could live a happy life like everyone else. I envy normal people.

Ironic, huh?

"When I look up, the girl who works at the laundromat is standing over me with her lip ring and blue
streaked dreadlocks, 'You need change?' She asks. To tell you the truth, I'm afraid to hear my own answer."
—Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper

"Why did you do it, Elijah?"

I slightly flinched at the use of my full name. My eyes shifted from the carpeted floor to my psychiatrist who was patiently awaiting my answer. "Its Eli," I corrected firmly before shrugging nonchalantly, "I did it because I felt like it."

"You just randomly felt like killing yourself?" I shrugged again, carelessness radiating off of me.

"Why?" She pressed again.

Mainly because my whole world was falling apart. I lost the person I love again. My heart was ripped out of my chest. There's no way a human can live without a heart, so there was really no reason for me to be alive; I was just an empty shell. Anyone would've surely died from what I did to myself, but for some sick reason I'm still alive.

I also was taken advantage of in my vulnerable state. I guess there's some sort of sick pleasure in seeing me suffer. Now that I got rid of my puppet master, I had nothing. I felt hallow and alone. There was nothing left for me here in this world, so why live in it any longer?

"Because I just felt like it," I didn't hide the annoyance in my voice. I didn't want to talk about what happened. I didn't even want to think about it. Everything was just fucked up.

My psychiatrist got the point. She sighed and closed her notebook that probably contained little to no writing. There weren't much notes to take on me because I refused to speak about anything. "Ok, Eli, you're free to go."

I almost laughed out loud. Free to go? There was no freedom in this place. It was like a prison. We were always being watched, always being followed. We weren't trusted by ourselves. There were barely any windows and if there were, they were grated to keep us from getting out. All doors were locked. The only thing different from an actual prison was that we weren't handcuffed or restrained. Well, unless you were really messed up in the head and needed to be kept from harming yourself and others.

I silently got out of my seat and sauntered through the door. I assumed it was our free time because I saw everyone in the lounge room as I passed by. I didn't feel like playing games or socializing, I just wanted to go to bed.

I reached my room and dragged my feet over to my bed. I threw myself on my bed and buried my face in my stiff pillow.

I heard my roomate shift in his bed, the mattress slightly squeaking as he turned around. When the noise came to a stop, his raspy voice filled the silence, "Did you tell the psychiatrist about... her?"

I felt a sting in my heart at the thought of Clare. I had been trying so damn hard to keep her out of my head, but it was so difficult. I clutched my bed sheets tightly and buried my face deeper into my pillow while rapidly shaking my head side to side in reply to my roomate's question.

I heard a sigh escape from his mouth, "I think it would help to talk about it. From what you've told me, it sounds like a huge piece of your life that really effects you. But its ultimately up to you, whenever you're ready."

"I know, I know," I said but it was muffled by the pillow.

"I think she—"

"Matt, please," I lifted my face from the pillow, "I don't want anything to do with that right now," I ran a hand through my dark bangs.

He raised his hands in defeat and turned back around so he was facing away from me again.

I dropped my head back onto the pillow and stared at the blank white wall beside my bed. The wall was plain, dull, and boring. It reminded me of myself. It was blank; anyone could just come along and splash, paint, or draw whatever they pleased on it. Redesign it, just like what happened to me.

I trusted Imogen and she turned around and programmed me like a robot for her own twisted pleasures. Imogen made me hate Clare. I can't forgive myself for letting that happen. When I finally saw through Imogen, I didn't even know who I was anymore. I felt more hopeless and emptier than where I started before I met Imogen.

My whole world came crashing down and I didn't want to deal with the pain and misery so I turned to my pills again. I purposely overdosed and that's why I'm here in this hell hole. I just couldn't take it anymore.

My eyes felt heavy and slowly fluttered closed. My breathing steadied as I drifted off to sleep.

"And like the sea, I'm constantly changing from calm to ill. Madness fills my heart and soul
as if the great divide could swallow me wholeOh, how I'm breaking down."
—City and Colour, Sleeping Sickness

I gasped as I quickly sat up. My heart was racing and my eyes darted around the room frantically.

"Dude, what the hell's going on with you?"

I whipped my head around and saw Matt sitting up on his bed, looking down on me with his thick, dark eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

Wait.. Why was he so high up from me?

I finally took notice of how stiff and uncomfortable I felt and realized I was on the floor.

I raised an eyebrow, "How did I—"

"End up on the floor?" Matt interjected, "You were tossing and turning in your sleep, screaming for Clare, and then fell off your bed. You were only asleep for about 30 minutes. Nightmares?"

My stomach turned as I mentally recalled the nightmare I had. In it, there were strings attached to my body much like a puppet. Imogen was controlling me. She was making me.. harm Clare. Physically harm her. And I was letting her. I didn't feel a thing as Clare screamed and begged for me to stop. Only when she was... gone did I feel a huge wave of despair and regret hit me. I cringed at the sight of her lifeless body. I tried to free myself from Imogen, but she only laughed at my failed attempts. I began wildly pulling at the strings and frantically shouting for Clare. I woke up after that.

Feeling nauseous, I quickly crawled over to the trash can and threw up. When I was done, I stared into the can and noticed that my vomit was clear, an indication that there was no food in my system. I haven't had much of an appetite lately.

Still leaning over the trash can, I looked over at Matt. He stared back at me almost sympathetically. He knows what I'm going through, he's dealt with anxiety and depression, except he's a lot better now. That's why we got along so quickly.

We heard the sound of the doorknob rattling and I jumped up to my feet, making me feel queasy again, but I kept my poker face on when a nurse opened the door.

She poked her head in and gently said, "Eli, you have a visitor."

"Who?" I asked.

"I believe her name is Clare."

I think I stopped breathing. I could feel the color drain from my face and my mouth go dry. This had to be someone playing some kind of joke. It was probably Imogen with one of her sick antics again. She probably dressed up like Clare again too. I told her to leave me the hell alone!

...But what if it really was Clare? I couldn't think of any reason why she would come here though.

"Elijah? Are you ok?" The nurse asked with concern, "I can tell her to leave if you want."

I ignored her use of my full name and quickly shook my head, "No, its ok. Just..." I rubbed the back of my head in discomfort, "Can I take my meds before I go see her?"

She stared at me for a while. I felt naked, like she could see everything. However, I tried to hide my discomfort by just staring straight at her, unphased.

She then nodded, "Ok, wait here." She left the room.

I turned around and walked over to my bed. When I sat down, I buried my face in my hands. I knew what I was going to do if it was really Imogen out there waiting for me, but if it was actually Clare, I have no idea how to even approach it.

"I think you need this."

I peeked through my fingers to give Matt a quick glare, "Easy for you to say."

"No, I'm serious, Eli." He brushed some of his black hair out of his face, "You need to talk things out with her and clear the air."

I removed my hands from my face and placed them in my lap, "I doubt she's here for that."

"But she's still here, you've gotta take advantage of that." When he saw my eyebrows knit together at the mention of 'taking advantage,' he said, "And I don't mean some twisted Imogen type of taking advantage."

I snorted, "I'll keep that in mind when I'm there."

The nurse came back in hold two small paper cups. She handed me both of them. In one cup was a pill, in the other was water. I took the pill, swallowed it with ease, and downed the water.

"She'll be in the visiting room when you're ready." The nurse said. I nodded in response and then she left.

Matt and I sat in silence as I waited a bit for my pills to kick in. My mind was surprisingly blank because, well, I didn't know what to think. I haven't spoken to Clare in weeks so this just seemed unreal to me.

"How long are you planning on keeping her waiting?" Matt asked with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm going, I'm going," I said, but my body betrayed my words. I tried to move, but I couldn't. It was like my brain was sending the signals to move to my body, but my body chose to ignore them.

After what seemed like forever, I was finally able to will myself to stand up. I gave Matt a last glance before forcing myself out of the room.

"I watched you walk away. Hopeless, with nothing to say.
I've strained my eyes, hoping to see you again. This is my curse."
—Killswitch Engage, My Curse

With each step I took towards the visiting room, my legs felt like a thousand pounds each. My heart pounded so fast, I could feel each beat echo throughout my entire body. I didn't notice anything or anyone as I walked. Everything just seemed like a blur, but I wasn't even walking fast.

The door to the visiting room was finally in front of me. I stood frozen, not knowing what the hell was going to happen once I entered the room or even who was waiting for me on the other side.

Wait. What was I even thinking? This was way too much for me to handle now. I'd better tell the nurse to make her leave.

I quickly spun around and began to hurry away. I only got about a foot or two away before halting again.

No, I can't be a coward. I need to face this now. Who knows if I'd even have the opportunity again?

I turned back around and headed towards the door. I placed my hand on the door handle, took a deep breath before turning it, and pushed the door open.

When I spotted that face, that lovely, beautiful face, my eyes were glued to it with no desire to look away anytime soon. It had been so long since I last saw her so I didn't want to waste this time that I had.

Clare was sitting down at the table in the middle of the room, nervously drumming her fingers on the table. I guessed she was deep in thought because she hadn't even looked up when I came in. Or maybe she had just grown so prone to not noticing me.

I tried to call her name, but it was like I suddenly forgot how to use my voice; nothing came out of my mouth.

Then she finally realized I was there. Her stunning sky-blue eyes were staring directly at me, leaving me breathless.

"Eli," Her voice sounded like an angel's, "Hi."

I still couldn't find my voice so I just greeted her with a nod.

It was silent between us. However, to me the silence was so loud, it was deafening. The silence had only lasted a moment, but to me it seemed like an unbearable eternity.

"Aren't you going to sit down?" Clare asked awkwardly, offering me a microscopic smile.

A slow nod was my response again. As I walked over to my seat, my eyes were still locked on Clare. Her eyes seemed to gloss over and then she casted her gaze down at the table. I sat down in my seat and rubbed my palms on my knees to wipe away the nervous sweat that covered them.

"You're probably wondering why I'm here," Said Clare as she shifted in her seat. I still didn't reply which she took as a signal to continue, "I just wanted to know how you were doing."

Yet again, I didn't respond; I couldn't. She peeked up at me through her bangs, locking eyes with me again. Her eyes began to search my face for any traces of emotion, but I knew she couldn't find any. I kept my face completely blank.

She continued again, "I've been so worried about you. Even though a lot has happened between us, I still care about you."

No reply came from me. It was quiet again between us. The only noise in the room was the ticking clock that hung on the wall.

"You haven't said one word this whole time." She said. I thought I heard disappointment in her voice, but I knew it was just my mind playing its infamous tricks on me.

Silence.

"Eli, say something, anything!" Her voice was raised and filled with desperation as she gripped the edges of the table, "Please," She whispered her last word.

Suddenly, I snapped.

"What the hell do you want from me, Clare?" My eyes narrowed, "Before, you did everything to avoid being around me and wanted nothing to do with me and now, here you are telling me how worried you are and that you care about me," I snorted, "Bullshit."

She looked taken aback as her eyes became watery with tears threatening to spill. However, she blinked them away. "Its not bullshit!" I was a little shocked that she actually swore, "I've never stopped caring about you! You just became so... unstable, I thought me being out of the picture would help you focus more on bettering yourself."

"And then look what happened and where I am now." I said coldly, throwing my arms out to emphasize where exactly I was. "Thanks a lot for all the help, Clare. It means a lot." I threw her a mocking, fake smile.

She shook her head furiously, her curls whipping around, "This isn't my fault!"

I ignored her and finally averted my eyes away from her, "Don't you have some other, more important place to be? Like with your lumberjack boyfriend?" I said with disgust evident in my voice.

The next thing she said interested me, "We're not together anymore."

I set my sights on her again and raised an eyebrow. I wanted to know what happened, but I didn't want to ask.

She must've read my mind because she began to explain, "I guess we both realized that our relationship was only casual and would never grow into anything more. Jake knew that my heart would never fully... be his." She smiled sadly.

My heart skipped a beat as I realized what she meant. Her heart was still mine. However, I couldn't help but feel guilty. She seemed so happy with Jake and, of course, I ruined it for her, "I'm sorry."

Her eye brows knitted together as she gave me a quizzical look, "For what?"

"For ruining your relationship," I said.

She shook her head, giving me another sad smile, "You didn't ruin anything. It was for the best anyway."

I said no more, neither did Clare. I took this time to examine her beauty again. Each lock of her hair was curled to perfection. Her lips were smooth and pink. I missed those lips so much. Clare began biting on her lower lip as she practically began to squirm with discomfort under my gaze after she realized what I was doing.

I had the urge to smirk, but I successfully fought it back, "Sorry," I mumbled. She nodded in response.

"And I'm sorry about snapping at you, everything wa—"

"Don't be, I deserved it in some ways," She said disappointedly. Not disappointed in me, but in herself. She continued, "I know that I hurt you a lot, but please just know that my intentions were never to hurt you."

"I know that now," I said, feeling a bit relieved, "And the same goes for me. I never meant to hurt you."

"I never thought you did," She gave me a look that sent shivers down my spine and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

I knew I was still so in love with her and I knew I always would be. Clare Edwards had my heart and I didn't want it back. Her hands were the only hands I ever wanted to hold my heart. It hurt so much that we weren't together, but I've already done all I could to get her back and nothing worked. What more could be done?

"Eli, I want to be by your side," Clare boldly stared me straight in the eye with a faint shade of pink on her cheeks.

She caught me completely off guard. She wanted to be with me again? This has to be another dream or a hallucination. I discreetly moved my hand to my opposite arm and pinched myself just to make sure. Nothing happened so I guess this was truly reality.

"I don't mean be with you," She explained carefully, "I want to be by your side to help and support you through this as your friend." She reached out and grabbed my hands on top of the table. Her hands were so warm compared to my freezing cold ones.

Of course. I knew that was too good to be true. I loved Clare and I really did want her in my life, but I couldn't be just friends with her. I slowly removed my hands from hers, "I'm sorry, Clare, but I can't be just friends with you," The pain in my heart hurt so much, but this was how it had to be.

The crestfallen look on Clare's face broke my heart even more. She placed her hands in her lap and stared down at them. Her bangs fell in front of her eyes and I couldn't read her anymore.

I knew coming here was a bad idea. I should've just told the nurse to make her leave because this whole visit hurt me even more.

"The only thing keeping me from being with you is your mental instability. I want you to be ok before we can start over again, Eli." Her face was still unreadable, but her voice slightly shook.

"I'll get better, Clare," I quickly said while I moved in closer to the table, trying to lessen some of the distance between Clare and I, "I'll get better so you'll be with me."

My whole time spent in this hospital, I felt that there was no reason for me to get better or to even be alive. But now, I had something to motivate me and that thing was Clare. If I got better, she would get back with me. That was more than enough reason for me to get better.

Clare shook her head and I became confused. Isn't that what she wanted?

She finally looked back up at me, determination in her eyes, "Our relationship can wait, Eli. You need to get better for yourself."

I looked down at the table, noticing all the scratches on it. Did I really want to get better for myself? I thought about all of the misery I'd been feeling. I felt like shit every second of every minute of every hour of every day. It all made me exhausted. I wanted it all to end.

And then it finally hit me.

If I wanted it to end, I had to do something about it instead of staying here, drowning in a pool of misery. Before, I tried to end it in the wrong way by ending my life. But now, it was time for me to end it in the right way by getting better.

"Clare," I began, opening up my hands for her place hers in mine. She got the hint and grasped my hands, "You'll be here, right? Because I need you."

She smiled at me, this time not a sad smile, but a genuine one, "Of course, I'll be right here. Always." She squeezed my hand reassuringly.

I felt a small smile graze my lips, "I realized that you're right. I do need to get better for myself and that's what I'm going to do. I don't want to go through anymore suffering."

Her whole face lit up, the tears that had been waiting to be released this whole time finally spilled from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, "I'm really glad, Eli."

As much as I hated seeing Clare cry, I knew it wasn't from despair, but from happiness. A full fledged smile finally stretched across my lips. It was the first time I had sincerely smiled in such a long time that I couldn't even remember.

A comfortable silence hung in the air as our eyes stayed glued to each other. I felt Clare's thumb gently stroke my hand and a feeling of comfort washed over me.

"Been torn apart. Got so many scratches and scars. Maybe they won't all go away, but they'll fade.
Maybe time can mend us together again. Its not what we've done, but how far we've come."
—Natasha Bedingfield, Recover

"I'm ready to talk."

My therapist looked up at me from the book she was reading. A smile appeared on her lips as she placed the book on her desk, "Eli," She greeted, "Please, sit," She gestured to my usual seat next to her desk.

I left my place at the door way, walked over to the seat, and sat down. While she shuffled through her desk, I began to pounder where I was going to start explaining everything. There was so much to talk about, so much that I had to get off my chest.

"You seem to be in a better mood," Said my psychiatrist as she placed her notebook and pen in front of her on her desk.

I nodded, "I am. I've come to realize somethings."

"Such as?"

"I don't want to be sick anymore. I'm tired of the anxiety, the depression, the insomnia, everything," I noticed that she picked up her pen for the first time in so long and started scribbling some notes down on the paper, "The only way for that to end is for me to start fighting back against my demons and that starts today."

She finished writing in her notebook, placed the pencil down, and looked back up at me, "I'm really glad you're going to take the proper steps to get better."

"I am, too," I said with a smile. I was proud of myself for finally doing this.

She leaned back in her seat, "So, where do you want to start?"

I told her about Julia, the hoarding, the panicking, Clare, Fitz, crashing Morty, the meds, Imogen, everything. It felt good to talk about everything. I normally talked to Adam about stuff, but I didn't tell him every single thing like I told my psychiatrist. She was a professional and was going to guide me and the right direction.

For the first time in months, maybe even years, I felt genuinely hopeful and positive. I knew it wasn't going to be easy, but it was worth it and I was going to do it anyway. I was doing it for Cece, Bullfrog, Adam, Fiona, and Clare.

But most of all, I was doing it for myself.

A/N: Welllll, what'd you guys think? Tell me your thoughts in a review! :) Hope you liked it!