Erza and Mirajane had been assigned with showing Lucy the grounds. Apparently, according to the counsellor, they were the only two mature enough to be given free-reign of the place without a guard escort.
All Lucy figured out from the tour was that the whole place was rather boring. The walls were all the same shade of vomit beige, and the patients all wore the same navy outfits. All patients were split up into sub-groups—apparently interacting with peers was an important part of mental and emotional stimulation. Each morning, each individual group would meet in their respective room for breakfast; there, a mandatory daily schedule was dispersed to each individual patient.
The schedules were filled with activities the patient had to accomplish for the day. Mirajane explained that each patient would have varying demands and activities, depending on their progress. Erza mentioned that for the first bit, Lucy would be attending several therapy sessions a week, more than the others. She said they would be trying to evaluate her, figure out just how bad her problems were. As time went on, the solo therapy sessions would dwindle down to at least once a week.
There were group bonding sessions every so often, in which the facility created an activity or get-together so that the groups could go out—sometimes out of the facility grounds, even—and spend time together. There were also schedule slots every day for library period, where each patient would have to go to the library and attend to some of the weekly homework dished out to them. Sometimes, patients were given free time; some liked to go outside and look at the trees, while others went to the gym, while some went to the library and hit the computers (although users were limited to specific websites approved by the facility).
Patients were assigned to rooms. Lucy was assigned to room 313—Erza was her roommate. Sleep hours were designated; lights off was at 10:30. Guards roamed the halls at night, making sure no patients snuck out of their rooms. If you needed to go to the washroom, you had to buzz down to the front desk, and a guard would be sent to escort you. Lucy figured that was a bit over the top—she didn't feel like having an escort every time she needed to take a midnight shit. Mira agreed.
Lucy's first night at Tranquil Pines was terrible. The tiny beds that were given to each patient were hard as a rock, and the blankets as thin as toilet paper. Not to mention, Erza's tendency to scream bloody murder in the middle of the night.
The first time Erza's shrieks awoke Lucy, she was terrified. She shot up, flicked on the light, and rushed to her bedside. Erza was tossing and turning, tears streaming down her face, screams ripping out of her throat. Lucy shook her, yelling her name; eventually, Erza snapped out of it and her eyes opened. After she calmed down and caught her breath, she apologized—PTSD symptoms. It happened every night, all night. Erza said the facility never gave her a roommate—Lucy was the first one.
Great.
Lucy buzzed down for an escort; the guard lead her to the kitchens, where she grabbed two glasses of milk. She brought them back up to the room, giving one to Erza. They stayed up for a bit, until Erza's body had calmed down enough for her to lay back down and close her eyes. Erza thanked Lucy for being so kind. Lucy shrugged it off, saying it wasn't a big deal. They both went back to bed. Lucy desperately tried to shut out Erza's cries the rest of the night.
The one thing Lucy realized was that there was no window in their dorm room. She was annoyed—she always fell asleep looking at the stars back home.
"How was your first night?" Mira asked, voice chipper as usual. She plopped down at the long table beside Lucy, giving her a wide grin. "Have a good sleep?"
Lucy, whose eyes were underlined with thick, dark bags, gave her a sarcastic sneer. "Wonderful."
Mira giggled. "You look well rested." She peered down at her breakfast tray, letting out a sigh. Her plate was sparse, only littered with a small lump of eggs and one piece of fruit. She poked at it slightly with a fork as she spoke, but made no move to take a bite. "So I'm guessing you found out Erza's quirk."
Erza, who was sitting across from the two girls, winced. "Sorry."
Lucy shook her head. "Don't worry about it—not a big deal." She stuffed a piece of bacon in her mouth. "Besides, the quality of my sleep didn't really have anything to do with you—" Liar. "—it's just kinda weird being away from home."
Erza seemed relieved by this; Mira gave her a nod. "Probably doesn't help that the cots are made of actual stone." The white-haired girl stabbed at her eggs, pushing them around the plate.
"No kidding," Erza chimed in, taking a bite of a piece of toast. "The floor's more comfy."
A group of the boys walked into the breakfast room, heading directly towards the buffet counter; Lucy couldn't help but follow the pink-haired boy, still terribly intrigued from their previous encounter.
He snatched a plate from the buffet counter and proceeded to load it up with heavy heaps of eggs and bacon. He grabbed three pieces of toast and tossed them on top of his already drooping plate; he spun, peering around the room, looking for a place to sit. His eyes washed over the room, then landed directly on Lucy; her gaze quickly dropped to the floor, her cheeks hot.
She hoped he didn't notice her staring. She tried to focus on Mira and Erza's conversation—something about how Mira wished her feet were smaller, because they're super huge and she could never wear flats without looking like a clown. Lucy nodded, trying to appear as though she'd been listening the whole time.
The boys sat down at another one of the long tables, talking about some unimportant topic. Lucy watched carefully from afar, studying the pink haired boy. He stuffed food in his mouth, far too invested in his meal to converse with the other fellows. The massive amount of food that this kid was absolutely inhaling was impressive; she almost laughed out loud.
Before she could flicker back to Mira and Erza's conversation, Lucy's thoughts were interrupted by the head counsellor, Juvia, entering the room. She had a small stack of papers in her hands. She greeted everyone as a group before proceeding around the space, handing out papers to each individual.
"Schedules," Erza explained, finishing off her orange juice.
Juvia handed each girl a schedule; Mira and Erza hastily read theirs, exclaiming happily when they got something they looked forward to.
Lucy peered down at hers, almost afraid.
Schedule – Lucy Heartfilia
8:00 – breakfast (room 215)
9:00 – individual therapy (room 110)
10:00 – library (room 205)
11:00 – kitchen duty (room 104)
12:00 – lunch (room 215)
1:00 – group therapy (room 309)
3:00 – free time
5:00 – dinner time (room 215)
She showed her schedule to Mira and Erza, who both made faces.
"Yuck—kitchen duty on your first day? Unlucky." Mira shook her head, sticking her tongue out. "I hate kitchen duty."
Erza nodded. "That stinks, but you've got free time as your last block before dinner! That's great."
Before Lucy could give another thought to her schedule, an outburst broke through the low murmur of the room.
Natsu was standing, waving his schedule in the air. He had another bright, beaming grin on his face. "Hey, uh, Juvia?"
The counsellor rolled her eyes. "Ms. Lockser, Natsu."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," He replied, shaking his head. "Can I get out of garden duty today?"
Juvia narrowed her eyes. "Do you have a valid reason to not attend to your responsibilities?"
"Uh, yeah," He replied, as though the answer were obvious. "I'm paired up with Gray on that and I don't wanna have to look at his ugly mug all day long." Natsu gave the counsellor a beaming grin.
The room erupted into giggles and snorts.
"Hey!" Gray snapped, annoyed. "You're ugly!"
Juvia stood up, sighing. "Boys, please—"
Natsu's voice snapped back. "At least I don't strip randomly!"
Gray was defensive, now. He pointed a finger at Natsu. "You know that's because of my anxiety—I feel constricted when I panic!" He shook his head. "Don't make me bash your head in."
"Bring it on, snowflake."
"Boys!" Juvia, the counsellor, shouted, instantly cutting off the laughs of the audience. Gray and Natsu immediately looked towards her. Despite her normally relaxed behaviour, she appeared to be rather annoyed with the boys' spat. "That's enough."
Gray began to cry out. "But it was all his faul—"
"Enough," She spat out again. "That's it—Natsu, you're on kitchen duty at 11:00. Gray, garden duty at the same time. If I hear you two fighting one more time, the consequences will be even worse. Trust me."
Lucy's eyes widened and she leaned over to whisper in Mira's ear. "Those two don't get along?"
Mira giggled, shrugging. "Occasionally. Best friends, though—just love to argue."
Erza rolled her eyes. "Idiots."
"Aw, c'mon, Juvia!" Natsu whined, expression morphing into a pout. "I was just kiddin'."
The counsellor sighed. "I know. You're still on kitchen duty, though."
Natsu sat down, crossing his arms as he pouted. "Damn."
Gray made a face at him. "Nice going, asshole."
Natsu sneered. "You're welcome, dickhead."
Lucy sighed. Due to the reactions of everyone in the room, she got the feeling this bickering was a daily occurrence. Constantly being with this pack of people would take some getting used to.
Breakfast soon began to wind down, and people began tossing whatever they hadn't finished eating on their way out the door. Erza was explaining to Lucy which way to get to her first scheduled activity as Mira left; the two girls gave her a wave as she tossed her plate—food untouched—and headed out.
Lucy was not a fan of individual therapy.
She was in Juvia's office. The place was just as boring as the rest of the facility, except for the lame motivational posters with pictures of kittens hanging off trees saying 'DON'T GIVE UP!' tacked across the walls. She was in an uncomfortable chair, facing Juvia, who sat behind a large desk.
"What made you first cut yourself?"
Lucy sat there, wide-eyed and silent. How was she supposed to answer that? Especially to this random ass lady she'd known for a day? Sure, she could go into detail about how she watched her mother die, about how the moment had haunted her every day since. She could talk about how lonely she was, living in a big empty house with just her father—who, for the record, was far too invested in his job, which caused him to travel 5 days a week, for a man who had a young daughter. But again, this woman was a stranger, and quite frankly, Lucy didn't feel like sharing.
"Um. I dunno."
The counsellor sighed. "You don't know? So, you're insinuating you did it simply for fun?"
Lucy shrugged. "It's a phase."
The counsellor shook her head, ignoring the teen's last comment. "Don't wanna tell me, huh?" She leaned back in her chair. "That's fine. We'll take it slow. Can you tell me about yourself?"
Lucy frowned. "About...myself?"
"Yeah. Got any hobbies?"
"Reading, I guess." She paused. "I like to write sometimes."
The counsellor smiled. It seemed genuine. "Ah, great," She muttered, leaning down and rummaging through a desk drawer for a quick moment. She pulled out a bunch of papers and flipped through them until she found a specific one. She wrote something on it and slid it across the desk. "I wasn't sure what I was going to assign you for your personal assignment, but this works well."
Lucy grabbed the paper, skimming the words. She glanced up at the older woman across the table. "Personal assignment?"
Juvia nodded. "Every patient gets one. Usually involves something they're into, or something that will help them progress with their treatment." She sat back in her chair. "I want you to write. I don't care what it is. A poem, a story—hell, a children's story. Write me something."
Lucy frowned. "Anything?"
Juvia's eyes narrowed slightly as she thought. Her blue hair was tucked back behind her ear. "Something...meaningful."
"What makes something meaningful?"
The woman smiled gently. "That's up to you to decide."
Lucy's frown grew. Pretty stupid assignment. I hate you. Thank you for giving me this idiotic writing project. Thank you for wasting some more precious moments of my life in this absolute hellhole.
"Okay."
How the hell was a person supposed to write something meaningful when absolutely nothing was meaningful to them?
Edited 22/06/18.
