I walked through the door. I didn't have much of a choice in the matter. I was here under the orders of my doctor and my mom. I supposed that was what happened when you tried to kill yourself. It may come as odd that a 17-year-old girl would try to kill herself, but the last few days have been the hardest of my life. First my dad told me that he was marrying his girlfriend Jodie who wasn't much older than I was and then the big stuff happened. I was told that I lost my baby and it was likely because I wasn't eating enough. I wanted the baby, but I didn't want to get fat. Then my boyfriend dumped me because we both knew that we were only hanging onto the thread that was our baby. That was when I decided to end it all. I took a knife from the kitchen and stabbed myself with it.

Unfortunately, I missed. I missed any sort of vital area: organs, arteries, and everything else. I was a failure at everything, including suicide. Now I was on the teen floor of a mental institution. I was currently being taken to my room.

"Ashley, how are you doing?" A brown-haired man in his 40s asked me. I didn't say anything and just looked at him. "Okay, you don't have to say anything right now. I'm Arthur Carlin. I'm a social worker."

I couldn't help but notice that he had the same last name as the doctor who treated me in the ER. I didn't know if that was a coincidence or not.

"I'm glad you're here to help her, Mr. Carlin. Your wife said great things about this place." My mom said. It seemed like it wasn't a coincidence. "I want nothing more than my Ashley to get the help that she needs."

I was pretty sure that she just wanted me out of the house for a while. She didn't really care about me. The only person who really cared about me was my dad and now he had this woman in life. Of course, calling her a woman was a bit of a stretch. I knew my mom didn't care because while she did take me to the hospital, she seemed oddly nonchalant about the whole situation. It was like she wouldn't have been too upset if I had been successful.

I didn't know how long I was going to be here. The doctor recommended 28 days. I knew that was how long my dad went to rehab. It would be a whole month away from everything. I wouldn't have school, but I didn't really care about and school didn't care about me.

As soon as my mom was out the door, Arthur took me to my room. There was another bed in it, but the room was empty. I could tell that someone was staying there.

"So it looks like your roommate isn't in right now." He commented. "Well I know that you'll like her."

I didn't know how he could possibly make that assumption. I usually didn't like anyone and there wasn't a very high chance that I would like her.

Of course what you're probably wondering is if I'm still feeling suicidal. I didn't want to try to do it again. It hurt too much. The pain was agonizing. It was how my mom found me. I tried not to scream, but I couldn't help it. I didn't want to feel that kind of pain again. I would just have to keep living my pathetic life.

"You should get something to eat." He suggested. "Dinner's served from 6:00 to 7:00. Tonight is pizza night."

I did feel kind of hungry. I didn't know what kind of food to expect. It looked like a cafeteria but not all cafeterias were equal. It was probably better than what they served at school because I assumed that they cared that people were more likely to freak out if they didn't like the food.

I noticed that there wasn't a mirror in the room. I couldn't help but wonder if that was something that they did for people with body issues. I just looked down at what I was wearing. It was a white London sweatshirt and black maxi skirt. It really wasn't my style, but it was all I had because my mom didn't bring any clothes for me and she didn't take me home, so I had to get some from the lost and found. I had a feeling that people would ask me what London was like. I mean I had been there, but I didn't get a tacky sweatshirt. The easiest way to identify someone as a tourist is if they're wearing a shirt or hat with the name of the place on it.

I wondered if I could get through my time without talking to anyone. People wouldn't believe that my vocal chords were damaged because of the incident because I hadn't stabbed myself anywhere near there. There was probably also no chance that I would get out if I didn't talk either.

I took off my shoes because I noticed that no one seemed to wear them except for the staff and headed out the door. I needed to get some food and in order to do that, I was going to the cafeteria.

So I originally wrote this story a while ago, but then deleted it after someone close to me committed suicide. Now it's back because I wanted to write a new story. It's going to be different from the last one. There will be more characters in the next chapter. Please don't forget to review.