Nuthouse - A Maximum Ride Fanfiction
"I don't know where to begin.
The world had been saved. My flock was still together in one piece. Something was different, though. Everyone else seemed happy. Life was simpler now. No bad guys to fight, no Erasers trying to kill us. Nudge even got her wings removed. To cover the scar, she got a tattoo of wings on her back. Even I had to admit, it was beautiful. But something was different.
I didn't feel the...peace. The ease. The rest. I felt nervous. When I was home alone, I still checked my corners. It couldn't be this easy, and not that it wasn't hard to get here, just...something was different.
Fang and I, well, we decided to settle down eventually I guess. It wasn't like I could ever tell him no, especially when he got down on his knee and proposed. Then we had Maddie, and life seemed better. Then the flu hit and she passed and I guess they say I got that PTSD shit. Started hurting myself."
The woman leaned back in her chair. I studied her for a minute, and she seemed to do the same with me. She truly was gorgeous, but depression affects all of us. She had long, flowing blonde hair, and worry lines that added contrast to her plump lips. The scars on her face weren't selfharm scars. If I could bring myself to believe what I was told by the Feds, they were from some weird hybrid human things that were created in a lab. I didn't want to believe it, but I had to. That was a part of this job - the therapist of the crazy.
Her eyes searched the room. They were brown, cautious, and alert. Down on the unit, they told me to watch her closely, as she liked to scratch her healing scabs. They wouldn't let her wear long sleeves, only clear bandages on her arms where the cuts were the worst.
I looked at her, and asked, "Why?"
She looked up, startled. "What do you mean, why? I lost my child, my husband left me...I had every reason to want to die."
"No, why did you try to cut off your wings?" Her face reddened.
"Well- I guess I don't know. It just kind of happened." I leaned back in my chair.
"In my 15 years in therapy, I've learned nothing 'kind of just happens'." She made a face.
"In my 28 years alive, I've learned a lot of things 'kind of just happen'." She sighed. "Aren't you supposed to believe what I say? Take notes or something?" I chuckled.
"Only when you're telling the truth. And I don't like taking notes. I feel as if I remember what my patients say better if I actually pay attention to them." She frowned but relaxed a little bit. I glanced at the clock out of habit. "Our hour is up. I'll talk to you again tomorrow." She sighed and walked towards the door. "By the way...welcome to the nuthouse, Maximum."
