AN: This was a hard one. I scrapped and rewrote this chapter a few times because I couldn't get it to feel quite right. Likely just my lack of talent shining through, but this is honestly the best I could do. Yes there will be a continuation. I'm think the next chapter will be the last.

Please enjoy!

Entry: 02 – Tatsuki

At the time of this video log, it has been one week since the discharge of Orihime Inoue. Consequently, it has also been five days since Ichigo Kurosaki has been in solitary confinement. We should've seen this coming. Of course they couldn't stay here forever and Orihime had shown such drastic improvement since Ichigo showed up that she easily passed her self-sustaining tests to earn her release.

Since she was so well liked by the staff and most of our patients, we had a big party for her on her last night here. Everything went smoothly, even our more notorious patients were making great efforts to be on their best behavior for her. I think everyone would agree that making her upset would be like kicking a puppy, and no one wants to kick puppies, that's just sick. Anyway, the party went great. We were worried that Ichigo wouldn't handle things well, but he surprised us by being at the center of the entertainment. We should've caught on that he was trying a little too hard to be cheerful for her.

The day she left was about as normal as ever. We had her send off in the morning, just after breakfast. Going through all the routine groups without her was a little jarring. She made that much of an impact everywhere she went. The first disturbances started that evening when Ichigo refused to participate during the PTSD group session. A little prodding got him to sit there scowling, but at least he was somewhat focused on the group. Even Chad couldn't get him to do much more than sit there. I'm not sure he if he even spoke.

The next day was so much worse. When the orderly went to check on Ichigo for the morning he was attacked. It took three orderlies and Chad, who happened to be walking by at the time, to get him off and settled down. We're lucky Chad was there, with his size and his relationship with Ichigo we managed to avoid major injuries. The one orderly he initially attacked, Mizuiro, had to be taken to the hospital for severe bruising of the neck and a small concussion. He's taking a short break to recuperate and should be back in a few weeks.

After getting Ichigo out of his room, we gave him a small dose of sedatives and sent him out for some fresh air. His room was completely wrecked, like some wild animal had gotten in and was desperately trying to get out. The sheets had been shredded and the mattress was leaning against the wall with large pieces missing. The pillow was nowhere to be found, not even the stuffing. I can only assume that some of the strips of shredded cloth on the floor were from the pillow case.

He spent his time outside like normal, just wandering around a tree, keeping to himself. We kept him under a tight watch, but nothing else happened. After break time was groups. Once again, he refused to participate, to the point of open aggression if pressed to do so. At lunch he was, well, disruptive would be the best word. He started throwing his food around, which upset other patients. They responded to his tantrum with tantrums of their own. That's when he got violent again. He used his tray as a club to bash several other patients over the head and was going for the throat of another when he was tackled.

After we managed to get the dining room back under control, and Ichigo into a holding cell, we had to have the local hospital rush us over some emergency staff to treat the injuries on-site. Trying to send several people over to the hospital at once while going through all our security measures just didn't make sense. It was decided then that we'd sedate Ichigo and put him in solitary confinement until we could get a grasp on what we could do for him.

Our solitary cells are your typical "padded wall" rooms. There are no exposed hard surfaces anywhere in the room. Just pillow-like cushions lining the floor, walls and ceiling. Even the door is completely covered by pillows and since it swings outward, there's no need for a window. There are specially made lights that are recessed into the ceiling and covered by clear cushions so that we aren't just tossing them in the dark for hours on end.

We make periodic checks on him every couple of hours. Since we put him in there, he's been fairly docile. No attacks, no screaming, pretty much nothing. The only thing he does do is whisper to himself, quietly and not all the time, it took us two days to hear what he was saying. "She's gone, gone. I'm sorry, so sorry. Please don't be gone." Over and over, it varies at times. Now that we know to listen to him around evening time, we've managed to piece together that he's associating Orihime being gone with the loss of his mother. It's tragic, really heartbreaking to see him fall that far in such a short amount of time. All attempts to reach out to him fail.

Honestly, we have nothing. He expressly wished for no contact from his family when he was brought in, so we can't reach out to them for assistance. Chad can't get him to do anything, Ichigo won't even look at him. I'm not sure..."

Tatsuki quickly looks down at something off camera.

"I've just got a message to go check on a special case coming in, so I'll stop here for now." Tatsuki can be seen reaching out to turn off the camera.

[Scene Shift]

Ichigo wasn't in a good place, physically or mentally. Physically, he was curled up in the fetal position in the back of his cell, just staring off into space beyond his padded wall. Mentally he was completely shut down. There were no higher order thoughts going on in his head, nothing but dull pain. He was all alone again.

A kid without a mother.

A little boy, lost in a cold, dreary world.

A painfully mocked introvert.

A struggling teen trying to keep it together for two younger sisters.

A young man, frantic to find his place in the world.

His thoughts swirled, painful memories and images flew by over and over. Never stopping for more than a moment before moving onto the next. On and on without end, never pausing long enough to allow him to process them and get past the pain. He could barely function well enough to eat, his eyes mostly blind to the food before him. Eating on reflex and often requiring prodding just to take the next bite. It was if he was drugged into a stupor, but no drug could possibly recreate the hell his mind had become.

It was due to his current state that he was to be kept away from sedatives, there was no telling if they'd put him in a coma or not. Nothing else could turn off the pain in his mind, and he couldn't have them. After the first few hours of being put in the cell, he gone into a near-catatonic state. He was aware, but only just. Most things escaped his notice, most. The odd rattle of the medication cart rolling down the hallway pounded like a jackhammer. The screams of some of the more, exuberant patients, barely a whisper.

Up was down, left was right. Time lost all meaning after those first few hours. He'd dropped into a cycle of light and dark. Food and solitude. The monotony had dulled his ability to even tell where he was. The phrase "silence is deafening", never really held any meaning for him until they shut off the lights for that first night. That was when the terrors came. He'd whispered himself hoarse that first night, just trying to keep them away. After that, every time a certain memory tugged at his consciousness, he'd start the whispering again.

He was whispering when the door opened. The small sound only lightly intruding upon his troubled mind. The smell though, that, brought every small sliver of his mind to a screeching halt.

"I-Ichigo….?" So soft, like a gentle caress. That voice that never failed to soothe him. The loss of that voice that haunted his every waking moment. He refused to turn over. Refused because if it was only his imagination then he wanted it to be as real as it could be. If he never turned over, he would never have to face the pain of her not being there. She couldn't be there, so it was painful to have such a powerful impression that she was. This must be what they call "lucid dreaming."

"Are you okay? Ichigo….?" The sweet pain of that voice! His eyes moistened as he soaked in the rapturous feeling of that voice again. So lost he was, that he failed to notice that whoever opened the door had gotten close enough to reach out and place their hand on his shoulder.

Time stopped. The world held its breath. The pain he was feeling at remembering her voice was blown away by the feeling of a small hand lightly touching him. Not even bothering to wipe his eyes, he turned his head around to face the presence in the room. Damn it all! If this was all a dream he'd definitely die. He wasn't sure his heart could take it. As his eyes began to focus, he realized that the angle threw a shadow across the face of whoever was touching him. Not that it mattered, shadow or not, nothing could possibly imitate that auburn hair.

"Ori..hime..." he whispered brokenly.

He grabbed onto her hand and brought it to his eyes, clutching it in a vise-like grip as a drowning man would hold onto anything that kept him afloat. All he could do anymore was sob and shudder, listening to her soft voice soothing the memories away...