A/N: So, it's been a long time since I last wrote fanfiction… But I've been toying with this idea for a little while now. I've never seen a fic like this for the TVD fandom (although I'm sure one does exist – there's no such thing as an original idea, of course), so I thought I'd write one.
Things you need to know:
1. Warnings: This fic handles mature subjects, including (but not limited to): self-harm, drug abuse, eating disorders, sexual abuse, child abuse, rape, various psychiatric disorders (depression, schizophrenia, bipolar, borderline personality disorder, and others), teen pregnancy, death.
2. Although it starts out from Elena's perspective, there will be other perspectives.
3. A lot of this fic is based on personal experiences with the mental health field.
4. Although this fic is based in the USA, I am British, so it's possible that some things I write are how things are done in psychiatric hospitals in the UK, not the USA.
5. I have invented some things/taken creative license with how psychiatric hospitals work.
6. I'm not exactly sure what pairings there will be, but I am a Klaroline shipper, so that will probably be in there. I'm angling for Delena, but (in keeping with the series) there will be Stelena first before the Delena starts. What I can say is that the pairings will be very slow in developing, so if quick-fix romance is your thing, you won't find it here.
7. This fic will only contact characters from TVD seasons 1-4 and TO seasons 1-3. I haven't watched the rest.
8. Chapters will be drabble length. Probably never longer than 1000 words.
9. Updating will be irregular. I've never been a steady updater. I'm intending for this to be quite long, and I will happily take on a co-author if anyone is interested.
10. I welcome any suggestions for psychiatric hospital scenes you'd like to see in this.
11. Credit for the original idea goes to a similar Gundam Wing fanfic which I read a million years ago. I can't remember the name.
Without further ado (before this author's note becomes longer than the chapter), here's the story.
1 – Hello dearie, you look a bit peaky
Aunt Jenna's smile is becoming more strained by the second. First it was the sterile white corridors, then the kid who was having a conversation with a door. Now, the nurse says, "You're going to have to remove your belt. And we'll send someone up to search your luggage."
Elena pulls her belt out of her jeans with a mechanical movement, and thinks spitefully that it serves Aunt Jenna right.
She doesn't have to stick Elena here. It was one stupid cut that went too deep. It didn't need that many stitches. It definitely didn't need such an overreaction.
Jeremy's the one who needs help, really. Aunt Jenna is barking up the wrong tree.
But those thoughts are nasty and unnecessary, so she folds them up like clothes and puts them away in a drawer. Her mother would have disapproved, in her quiet, kind way, and Elena can't let her mother down.
Even if she isn't here anymore.
The nurse adds, "Your shoelaces, too. And the drawstring from your hoodie."
She's going to be naked soon. Elena's lips twitch and that, and she gets a this-isn't-funny look from Aunt Jenna.
Well, it is, a little bit.
Mostly, it's just sad.
After handing over her various strings and necklaces and accoutrements, the nurse is finally satisfied. She puts Elena's things in a box on a shelf with a sticker reading "Elena Gilbert", and leads them upstairs.
The building looked scary from the outside, a little bit gothic. From the inside it is all sterile horror-story-mental-hospital. It's in the details. The greyish paint on the walls, the odd scuff marks and scratches on the skirting boards, the doors that only lock from the outside.
The way everyone they pass avoids eye contact.
"We're quite full at the moment, so you'll be sharing a room," the nurse explains as they mount a flight of stairs and come out on a landing. They take the corridor to the right, which is labelled "girls". A threadbare carpet spans a long hallway with doors off to either side. All of the doors are open. Elena can peer in as they pass a number of identical rooms. One of them is occupied by a blonde girl who is brushing her hair in front of the mirror with a sort of obsessive focus. The nurse leads them into the next room.
Two single beds. A carpet that has seen better days. One of the cupboard doors is broken. The window has bars on it.
Half of the room is occupied, with a few spartan possessions. Elena goes over to the other bed.
"Your roommate is Bonnie Bennett," explains the nurse. "You'll meet her later. She's in a group session now."
"Okay," Elena says, not really caring. She'll be out of here soon, anyway. The therapists will realise this was a bit extreme. The insurance will run out. Something.
There's a knock on the open door. A burly woman steps in holding a metal detector. "I'm here to search you and your things," she says sternly. The look in her eyes is no-nonsense. "Please stand up and spread your arms."
Elena sighs, but complies.