Thanks so much for the response on this! I'm really happy a lot of you like it. Just so everyone knows, the character of Emma is the complete opposite of me and just a figement of my imagination. I mean, she's very cynical, sarcastic and whatnot, but I'm not a sociopath or any of that shit. I just find the whole psychology of sociopaths and mental hospitals to be extremely interesting. I was really inspired by the film, Girl, Interrupted, and Angelina Jolie's character, Lisa Rowe. Emma's last name is Rowe, so I just wanted to drop that little hint. Thank you so much for the reviews and feedback! I hope you all enjoy this chapter and keep the feedback coming. I have so much planned for this story. ;) -Beth

Alaina decided to let me go back to group therapy, considering I was corporative during breakfast with her. Yeah, that and the little bribe with the cigarettes from earlier did the trick. The thing was that I'm a great people pusher and I know exactly how to get what I want when I want it. I know everyone's hot button topic and I push them and I push them. They beg for it to be pressed, just beg for it, and I press them until they crumble over and explode. It was amusing to me, fascinating actually.

People weren't as complicated as they led on. People wanted their lives to be complicated, wanted things to be shitty for them, because in that way, they can make excuses for their actions and their entire personality. Life isn't complicated at all. People make it difficult, become delusional and lie to themselves.

We're all liars, no matter what. We lie to ourselves constantly.

I never did. I always told myself the truth, no matter what it was, because I didn't want to be fake and phony like that, especially to myself. I tell how it is, not how it should be, and if people get their feelings hurt, fuck them. They deserve to be told the truth than some bullshit lie. It reminded me of my own mother, how she just caked over all the things in her life that made her uncomfortable, made her feel bad, even. I know that's why she doesn't visit me anymore and pretends that I don't exist in daily life. Oliver once told me when he came to visit that she tells everyone I stole from her and the minister and so she kicked me out. That made her look like the innocent victim, like she was the one who had been betrayed. It made my blood boil.

People run from things they don't want to face, but my life was so rotten with bullshit that running away or lying just never seemed good enough. I knew it would come back to me and plus, I liked freeing people with the truth. It set them free, and I knew they would thank me for it someday. Maybe, maybe not, but hey, I wasn't holding my breath.

I didn't really care either way. People are terrible fucking monsters, the worst kind of monsters because they pretend they're all sweetness and life, all good and contrite. They're a wolf in sheep's clothing and my job in life is to out those bitches. That was my favorite.

"Esmeralda, how good of you to join us. Go ahead, sit down," Marilyn, our main group coordinator greeted me as I walked in. I gave her a sarcastic, sweet smile and sat down on the couch.

Group was pretty much the worst thing in the entire world. We all had to sit in his freezing ass cold room and talk about whatever the fuck was bothering us. Inside, it was the usual bunch: Torch, Olivia and Julie, Colleen, who was a rich, spoiled sixteen year old bitch that was in here for pathological lying (amongst other things-her rich daddy and her were very close, if you know what I mean) and Beth, who only got to come to this group once a week from the all girls' prison a few towns over from Merryweather. Beth was nineteen and a crazy fucking psycho, but I loved to mess with her.

She was a paranoid schizophrenic who had murdered her best friend with a sledgehammer. She's sentenced to the prison's mental hospital until she's at least twenty-one, because of her mental stability, but I liked to call bullshit on that.

No matter who you are, what your "disability" is, you know what the fuck you're doing if you beat someone to death with a sledgehammer. I liked to give her shit about it, make her feel bad, until she has one of her episodes and is removed. Of course, I got time in the quiet room, but still. It was worth it.

"Hiya, ladies!" I exclaimed as I sat down, cross-legged and comfortable. The mood in the room instantly went cold, tense, because of me. I lived off that fear, that tension. I liked to scare people, make them hurt and feel pain when I felt they deserved it. I wanted them to suffer like I have suffered.

They all mumbled a hello, but it was the stupid bitch, Colleen, who had spoken up. "Why is she coming back here, Alaina? She cursed off Sherry yesterday!" I smiled at her.

"Aww, come on, Colly, don't be that way. I think our cheeky back and forth is sort of cute, don't you?" She glared at me as I just kept grinning wide, that devilish grin that drove some crazy.

Especially Colleen.

"Colleen, please. We welcome everyone in the group and besides; Emma was very corporative at breakfast. We all should learn to give second chances," Mary calmly said, embracing that hippie nonsense she loves to babble on about.

"Yeah, come on, Col, second chances!" I exclaimed, tilting my head to the side as she played, furiously, with her perfect blonde hair. She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Whatever. If she starts shit with me, I'm leaving. This group is retarded anyway," Colleen said and Mary nodded.

"And why do you say that, Colleen?"

I smiled, even wider. "Yeah, Colleen. Why ever so?" The sound of my voice, the mere sound of taunting, made her blood boil and I just wanted to laugh out loud. It was killing her that I was in here, I knew. She hated me and that felt great.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because everyone in this fucking place has officially lost their shit!" She exclaimed, her voice cracking at the end. I rolled my eyes, leaning back and stretching. Olivia, next to me, had red eyes and she looked horrified that she had to be the one sitting next to me.

I looked over and winked. I swear I saw her twitch.

"That's quite judgmental, Colly, hmm? Saying we've all lost our shit, but you're perfect and sane?" I asked, my voice caked with a sweet, sweet hatred for her, hidden with false kindness. Colleen glared at me, covering up her fear, but I could smell it from a mile away. She began to tap her foot, unconsciously.

"Well, it's true! Emma's a psycho, Olivia thinks she's fat when she's really eight pounds, Julie doesn't talk and Beth killed someone! I mean, do I have to draw you a picture? Everyone here is fucked up, like, severely, and I'm not. I just want to go home," She shared, looking down and twirling her hair. I rolled my eyes and I let out a sigh before Mary could talk.

"Go home to your perfect, little townhouse on the Upper East Side, with your private tutors and your nannies and your designer fucking clothes? Wow, Col. You truly are better than all of us, aren't you? Putting down me, hey, that's fine, but Jules, Liv and Beth? That's cold," I chimed in, and Colleen's cheeks turned a dark red.

"I only meant-"

"Don't you fucking dare try and backtrack, all right? You called us crazy. We all heard it. Right, girls?" I turned to Olivia, Julie and Beth. They all looked away, as Olivia hiccupped. She covered her mouth with her hand right away.

"Shut the fuck up, Emma! Just because you all have no family and no life doesn't mean I have to-"

"Can you just stop talking? You're a snobby, little bitch. If you think that you're so above us and we're so below you, then just leave. No matter what though, you landed yourself here, so you're actually no better than us." Julie spoke up, interrupting. I looked over at her, my eyebrows raised in surprise. I smiled at her, a crooked smile.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to speak up," I commented, arms crossing over my chest. Colleen rolled her eyes, although her face was now entirely scarlet.

"Colleen, do you think that the words your group members said are accurate?" Mary asked, her voice calm and soothing. Colleen began to wring her hands and shrugged, with that same pompous, little tough girl attitude she tried so hard to put out.

I could see right through her, though. She was so entirely weak.

"Maybe I was being judgmental, but I'm just so tired, okay? I'm just so freaking tired and I want to go home!" She whined and then the water works began. I huffed and watched as she broke down, Mary rubbing her back with comfort.

"I miss my friends, I miss my parents, my boyfriend and my school! I miss everything! I don't want to be here anymore!" She sobbed and I wanted to fucking blow my brains out. Poor, little rich girl, poor, little rich girl. I wanted to vomit.

People like Colleen had it so easy. Perfect house, perfect parents (except her daddy likes to fuck her) and perfect school, friends, clothes and boyfriend. She had the nerve to complain, to be sad, to be angry. If I lived on a million dollar estate, I would be so fucking happy, a mental hospital would be the absolute last place I would be. So what if your dad wants to fuck you around or whatever? I'd let him, as long as he kept bringing in the money. People like me had to fuck around for that money, had to beg for it, dance for it, strip for it, fuck for it. People like me never had anything given to them and people like Colleen were just handed it. I couldn't even imagine.

I just glared, my fists shaking a bit. I wanted to murder her.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

My voice was hard, angry. The girls looked at me, and I could already see Olivia start to shake a little. Mary looked up at me, surprised, as Colleen stopped herself from crying.

"Do you have something to say, Emma?"

I leaned forward in my chair, my eyes wild.

"Yeah, I got a lot of things to say, actually. We're all supposed to sit here and feel sorry for this stupid bitch? You expect me to reach over, pat her back and say, oh, it's all right, honey. Things will get better? Are you fucking crazy?"

It was an ironic question. I was asking it, a crazy mental patient, to a therapist. Mary's eyebrows rose a little bit as she took in a slow, deep breath, as if to prepare herself for my storm of rage.

"Things are already better for her! She's got a fucking great life! She lives in a mansion, with fucking maids and servants doing all her shit, cleaning her room, which I'm sure is the biggest fucking room her mommy and daddy could give her, right?" Colleen glared, wholeheartedly, at me, like daggers. I wasn't done though, I was just beginning. I didn't care.

I looked to Colleen, my eyes narrowed. I looked right into her pale, now red-ish eyes and just stared at her for a good second.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck is wrong with you, huh, little rich girl? Why don't you tell me, a poor girl living in Sandchester what the hell is wrong with you, because I'm curious. Do you have to fuck for your money? How about having to be passed around like a fucking rag doll to your father's fucking drug friends so that he can score? Huh?"

Colleen started to cry even more, her fists clenching together. I saw her teeth grinding together.

Mary leaned forward, looking at me with serious eyes. "Emma."

I smiled, that devilish smile again and leaned back, chuckling to myself. I shook my head at her, tsking. "Oh, wait, you know what? I found the problem. I know why you're so fucked up. 'Cause you see, my dad hated me, tossed me around to his drug friends, but hey-he never fucked me, did he?"

The room got deathly quiet, like someone had just dropped an atomic bomb. That only curved my enthusiasm more. I leaned forward even closer to Colleen, grinning wide and bright.

"Emma. Stop." Mary warned again, but I ignored her.

"Tell us, Col. Tell us how Daddy likes to undress you, undress your perfect, little nightgown and climb into bed with you." Colleen's entire face looked as though it were to pop off, her nails digging right into her skin.

Beth, out of nervousness, began to cover her ears and rock back and forth. That didn't throw me off, though. It only excited me more, made me feel even more empowered.

"Come on, Colly. Tell us! Tell us how he takes his pants off, crawls on top of you and slides his dick into you, hard. Tell us how his manhood reaches inside of you. Hah, but you know what?" I said, shaking my head as I saw a tear slip from her eye.

"People already know that he fucks you, but what they don't know is that you like it. Mmm, you like being Mrs. Colleen Carroll. It's probably all you've ever known."

And there it was. The breakdown, the breaking point, the boiling point, and the moment I loved so much.

Colleen began to scream, her scream so high pitched and insane. She tackled me onto the ground, turning over my chair and began to slap me across the face, over and over again. I enjoyed the pain, I laughed as she hit me over and over again. I laughed with each attempt to punch me, each blow to my head. I laughed and I laughed.

Nothing could beat that moment when you know a human being has reached their breaking point and knowing you brought them there. There's just a certain power, a certain rank high that it makes you feel, at least for me. I heard Mary yell for help, yelling for male nurse assistance and instantly, they came. Colleen was pulled off of me, her hysterics never fading.

She tried to bite the male nurse, began to throw things around the room, and just kept screaming. Mary pointed to across the hall, the quiet room, and he had to drag her away. I smiled at her, waving good-bye, as she kept screaming and screaming.

"Bye, Col." I said, to myself more than anyone in particular.

Mary looked at me. "Are you okay?" I scoffed.

"After that soft, little baby fight? Yeah, I'm fine."

She nodded, taking a deep breath and then changed her look.

Instead, now she stared at me with disgust, looking over at the other male nurse. "Take this one to her room. She's to stay there for the entire day and make sure she does. I'll contact Doctor Paterson right away." I let out a small chuckle as the male nurse began to take my arm, but I pushed him away, hard.

"Get your fucking hands off me! It'd be my own fucking pleasure, not to sit here all day with you dipshits," I said, walking out of the room, the male nurse escorting me there.

I could hear Colleen's batshit crazy screaming from all the way down the hall to my room. The male nurse, who was new, of course, looked at me. "Your new roommate is in there. He's sleeping. Do not disturb him, please, or I'll get Doctor Paterson." I raised my eyebrows, nodding.

A new roommate. Time to fuck.

He opened the door for me, as I walked in. I couldn't tell who he was, because he was covered in blankets, but I knew when he woke up, I would pounce. Not seeing guys for a while could do that to a girl. The male nurse locked me in and I sighed.

I looked over at the sleeping body and smiled, to myself.

"Looks like it's just you and me."

I rolled my eyes at the new kid's sleeping body and went over to my bed, that had cutouts of Kurt Cobain, My Chemical Romance, Bob Dylan and Nirvana above it, all taped to the purple cement walls. I hated that pale, gross color so much, and I hated that it stared at me like that. I changed it the moment I could, remembering how great it felt when I was done.

I tried to make the room my own, for whatever reason. Like I said, I've been here for three years now. It was my home, whether I actually liked it or not. I didn't have a choice.

I took out my journal, some colored pencils I snatched from the art room, a lighter and some cigarettes I snagged earlier from Alaina's pack. I figured if I was going to be in here all day, I might as kind of enjoy it. I could still hear Colleen's fainted cries and whimpers from the quiet room, screaming, "She's a cunt!" over and over again. I smiled as I lit up, shaking my head.

The thing was that I wasn't a bad person. I was truthful, like I said before, and some people ran from that truth, like Colleen with her dad, and just kept running. They were fake, phony, and those types of people were the fuckers I thought were worse than me. You could say I was being a cunt by saying all that shit to Colleen, but she was the one who called us all crazy, said she was better than all of us, and there was nothing I hated more than having people think they're better than me, even if it's clearly delusional.

Especially Colleen, who was so fucked up that she didn't even know she was fucked up.

I didn't care. I never cared. Colleen was a spoiled brat from the moment she got here and she was a disaster waiting to happen. If I didn't tell her, someone else would have.

I began to draw, draw like there was no tomorrow. I blew out some smoke and held it in my mouth as I furrowed my eyebrows together. I looked at my drawing so far of Gandhi, the one and only. He was pretty cool, being all peaceful and never letting anyone push him away. Gandhi classified evil with an entity that didn't want to understand and therefore acted on impulses that were cruel and disheartening.

That was me, I knew that, but I didn't care. Gandhi was cool.

"What the fuck-" I heard the mumbled, cracked voice on the other side of the room. My eyes flickered over to the figure-sitting upright in bed; his blonde hair all messed up now.

It was Tate, the crazy kid from this morning.

I smiled at him. "Morning, sunshine. I'm your new roommate."

He stared at me and said nothing. I bit down on my lip and watched as he brought his legs over the side of the bed. The sunlight from the one locked window shined on him, his hair and black eyes glistening in the sun. He was kind of perfect looking, I had to say. I waited for him to say something.

"That was quite a performance this morning, mini Kurt Cobain," I led on further. He said nothing, just stared right at me.

"Can I bum one?" I looked up again and shrugged.

"Yeah, sure." He walked over to me and I pretended to do my drawing, when really, I was inspecting him further. He really was tall, dressed in the same tight black jeans and black shirt as before.

He smoothed his hair down, so it went directly in his eyes. My eyes went to one thing that glistened in the sun.

He had a snake ring around his thumb.

"Wicked thumb ring," I commented. He grabbed a cigarette and I handed him the lighter. He nodded. "Thanks."

He sat down on the floor, cross-legged, enjoying his cigarette. He looked peaceful, like a painting, and yet disturbed. Smoke came out of his nose and mouth, like it was meant to, and I was kind of entranced by that. Fuck, he was pretty gorgeous.

"I'm-"

"Emma. I know. That black nurse already filled me in. She said you're-" He stopped and I looked down at him on the floor and smiled really wide. Oh, Alaina.

"Fucking crazy?" He broke out into a small grin.

"Yeah." There was a pause, but then he spoke again.

"I'm Tate. Tate Langdon." I nodded, pretending I didn't already know and went back to my drawing. He didn't say anything else.

"Why are you here?" I asked, casually. Tate looked up at me, his face now contorted into a hard, cold stoned anger. He sat up fully, got up and did something I swear I never expected.

He pushed the cigarette right into my arm.

I gasped, caught off guard, and pushed him away as the burn scolded me. I tried to keep back a dry sob, keeping my composure, but that shit hurt. I used to burn myself back in the day, and cut myself too, but jesus. I had almost forgot how much it hurt when your skin was already clearly bruised.

"What-the-fuck!" I screamed, getting off my bed and pushing him again. His black, demonic eyes bored into mine, like I was his prey or something. I just kept staring, fuming, at him.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, you fucking psycho?" I demanded, attempting to punch him in the face. He caught my hand though, and twisted it. He smiled.

"Ah, ah, ah. Don't be so judgmental. You're a crazy bitch, too."

I scoffed, struggling for a moment, and then pushed him off of me. He fell to the ground, not expecting my real force, as I then punched him right in the jaw. I heard a nice, satisfying crack.

I chuckled, shaking my head at him with a smile.

"I'm thee crazy bitch to you, motherfucker. If you want to keep all of your bones in place, I suggest you make that your one and only hit. Game over, fucker. I win." I said, just as none other than Alaina burst through the door like superman.

"What the hell is happening? Mary told me you basically berated Colleen and-" She stopped dead in her tracks as she assessed the situation. Alaina put her hands on her hips, sighing and rolling her eyes. She stared at me, fiercely.

"I assume this is your doing?" I smiled and showed my hand.

"Yeah, believe it or not, I didn't start this one. Crazy fucker burned me with a cigarette." I said and she rushed over to see it. It was a pretty big burn on my hand. Alaina tsked and looked at Tate, who was still on the floor, holding his bloody nose.

"Oh, for the love of God, now there's two of you," I heard her say as she went over to help Tate up. Danny, the same male nurse from before, came in, concerned.

"I heard a thump from around here. What's going on?"

"Tate here burned Emma with a cigarette and then Emma, of course, punched him in the face. He has a broken nose. Can you take him to the infirmary?" Danny nodded, taking Tate's arm and guarding him out. Tate resisted, yanking it away.

"Don't fucking touch me, faggot!" He stormed off, as Danny slightly rolled his eyes and followed him.

That left Alaina and I. She looked at me, her hands still placed on her hips. For a moment or so, I thought she looked genuinely concern for me, protectiveness even. She took a deep breath and placed her hand out.

"Gimme the cigs. Now." I promptly snatched them off my bed and handed them to her. She put them in her scrub pocket and her face softened a bit.

"Does it hurt?" I shook my head and slightly smiled.

"Are you kidding? I mean, at first it did, but now I'm just numb to those burns. It's fine," I slightly lied. It throbbed a bit, but I didn't want to admit it to myself. Alaina nodded, pausing.

"What happened in group today, huh? Heard you pretty much lit the place on fire." I shrugged, gesturing, and smiled wide.

"Awwwwwww, I'm so flattered!"

"It ain't a compliment, little girl." I scoffed and returned back on my bed, picking up my drawing. Alaina leaned on the doorframe, watching me with her all-knowing looks of wisdom.

"Please. That bitch had it coming. Besides, I'm sure when she bursts out of here, she'll go back to her fairytale fucking life and forget all about us, about what was said. Trust me." I drew the rest of Gandhi's beard as I heard Alaina scoff.

"You sure you ain't jealous of her? She does have the life you never had, the life your family left you out of."

I stopped drawing and stared at my paper. I tensed and looked up at Alaina after a moment and there was no feeling in my voice or eyes or anything. I didn't feel anything anymore.

"I don't feel anything anymore. It's impossible for me to feel jealous of someone, to feel sad, or angry, or depressed. Were you absent the day they covered sociopaths at nurse school?" Alaina swallowed hard and put her hands up, in defense.

"Fine, fine, okay. You ain't jealous," She concluded and I went back to drawing, quietly. I was beginning to get tired. She stayed behind for a few moments and then looked back at me.

"You sure you don't want me to look at the burn for you?"

I shook my head, not looking up. She sighed, about to close the door on her way out. She stopped, though.

"Hey," She said, wanting me to look up. I did.

"What?"

Alaina furrowed her eyebrows together, like she had been thinking about how to say what she was about to say.

"I know you like to be the tough bitch in charge, and you are. Trust me, no patient has ever bitched like you before and gotten away with it," She began and I slightly smiled.

"All I'm saying is...If you truly don't feel nothing, that's how it is, but don't write yourself off to every emotion...No one really stops feeling, you know? They just stop trying." I stared at her, not saying anything at all. She swallowed hard, a bit uncomfortable and turning a little pink.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is...don't give up."

I stared at her still, silently, and then went back to drawing. "Close the door on your way out, okay?"

I didn't want to be a bitch to Alaina. I knew if I could have feelings, I would have feelings for her, feelings for a friend, for a mother even. She took care of me. Sort of. But I didn't have feelings, or emotions at all. I just didn't.

"You still want that crazy fucker to be your roommate? I can do a swap," She suggested, kindly. I shook my head.

"Nah. I'll let him know who is the bitch in charge, besides you." I heard her chuckle as she then closed the door.

I finished the drawing, finally, and examined it. I bit down on the tip of my pencil and just stared. I stood up on my bed, putting my pencil in my mouth, and grabbed a strip of tape from my nightstand.

I stood up and taped the picture next to a picture I had sketched of Marilyn Manson. I smiled, admiring it.

Underneath the picture of Gandhi, I had put one of his quotes: "Be the change you want to see in the world." I smiled at that, chuckling.

The change I wanted to see in the world would be to single out those fuckers who thought they were better than you and make them suffer. I sat down on my bed and thought more about that, about wanting those people to burn and be murdered. It didn't make me feel happy, but it didn't make me feel sad either. The truth was that I couldn't change a single damn thing in my own life, nonetheless the entire world.

I couldn't change that my mother hated me. I couldn't change Tate for being a crazy fucker and burning me. I couldn't change his tormenting the kids he wanted to kill in his high school. I couldn't change how Colleen's father was fucking her at night for God knows how long. I couldn't change that I had nowhere to go in life, but right here, and I couldn't change that I didn't really give a flying fuck about anybody at all. I just couldn't.

I had decided a long time ago that change wasn't going to happen and if it were, it would have nothing to do with me. I wasn't going to change, no matter what, because I was stuck like this forever. I was the nobody fucking disease at four years old and I still am at seventeen years old. Nothing changed.

I thought back to what Alaina said, about not giving up on emotions. I didn't stop trying, necessarily. I just stopped caring. The most important thing though, is that I didn't reject anyone or anything first. They rejected me.

I sighed, knowing my thoughts were just going to keep eating at me. I looked over at my nightstand and leaned off the bed, sticking my head under it. I grabbed a box I had kept, secretly, and opened my nightstand drawer. I took out silver, little key and opened the box from under the bed. There, sitting right where I left it was my shiny, little razors.

I smiled. "Hello, old friends."