Jesus Christ, this isn't happening. I look around and great, everyone is looking at us. My mum is practically wetting herself with excitement. This is so not how I wanted this proposal to happen. Which is to say, not at all. I glance back at Tom, who is looking at me with anticipation and hope. God, telling him no would be like kicking a puppy. So I summon all the niceness I have in my body and force out, "Yes, Tom, I'd be, um, delighted. Sounds, er, peachy keen."

He starts crying again then slips the ring on my finger. Pretty good size, actually. He moves to hug me, and this time I feel obliged to let him. Two unlikeable qualities about him, he's a hugger and a crier. Damn. I seriously can't believe that I, Naomi Campbell, am going to marry Tom Weiner. I can tell you this, though, I'm not taking his last name, even if it is pronounced 'whiner'. Tom leans in to kiss me, but I put up my hand blocking his mouth.

"Whoa, boy. Don't get all close to me, ok?"

He looks hurt, and I must admit, I feel a slight pang of guilt. But hey, I just agreed to marry the fool, that should be enough kindness for the day, right? I'm not actually going to marry him, I decide, I'll just stay with him until I get out of this dump. Agreeing to get married looks like you're being hopeful and seeing into the future. Or at least I hope that's the impression that the staff gets. Yeah, I'm a cold-hearted bitch. He jabbers away for a few more minutes, talking about telling his friends, telling his family, moving into my flat. Wait, what was that last thing?

"Tom," I say, trying to keep my voice even, "You are not going to move into my flat while I'm in here."

"But, honey, it makes sense. We're going to be merging our lives completely soon, so why shouldn't I go ahead and start the process."

"Because I, er, want to help you when you do it. It won't be the same without me helping, will it?"

"God, I completely ignored your feelings. Please forgive me." He's like a trained seal, being the fucking perfect boyfriend, excuse me, fiance. I really don't know what I did to deserve him, but I'm sure as hell not worthy. I'm getting tired of putting on this charade of being a loving girlfriend. I want him gone.

"Well, um, dear, you'd better be going now, visiting is almost over," I say cheerfully despite knowing full well that we have a good bit of time left.

"No it's not; we've got another half an hour."

"Do we? Oh well, bye anyway." I give him one last vomit inducing hug, even throw in a free kiss on the cheek, and then he and mum are gone. I stumble back to my room, entirely worn out from my encounters with the two of them. I'm surprised to see Emily in the room, after all her sister is here. Her eyes are puffy and red; there's even a tear or two dribbling down her face.

I don't know what it is, but I've got like this sisterly instinct or some shit to go over and give her a hug. There something ferocious in my gut that tells me I need to make it better. I'm a bitch, I know, but there is just something about her that looks so broken that I just want it to go away.

"Sorry," she mumbles, "I didn't know you were coming back. And congratulations on your engagement. I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks," I force out with a saccharin smile, "Er, what's wrong?"

She looks pained, "Nothing really. Just, you know, stuff."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Her face turns, then, "I guess. I mean there's such an abundance of therapists here, but I don't want to talk to them, they just seem so fucking perfect so they won't understand. So, yeah, I'd like to talk. Even though it only shows how pathetic I am." I nod for her to continue.

"My sister, well she's pregnant. Gonna marry the baby's father. And I can't be there. I won't get to see her wedding or witness the birth of my niece or nephew. Jesus, I won't even be able to hold him. And me, I've never had that chance. I'm, er, gay." she looks at me as if she asking permission.

"That's cool, I'm bi," I say with an encouraging smile.

"Yeah, so I didn't realize it until a couple of weeks after I was in here. Anyway my behavior precluded me from ever having a boyfriend, and I obviously never had a girlfriend. I was sixteen when this starting happening to me. The psychosis and shit. So now here I am at 23, never having fucking had anyone. Never having felt love. You're lucky, you have someone that you love. I'll probably never have that."

I reach over and pull her into a tight hug as she cries.

"Better not hug me anymore, we're not allowed to touch," she sighs out as she makes no move to leave my arms.

"I don't care about the fucking rules. Anyway, love's just a myth. Tom? I don't love him."

"Christ, why'd you agree to marry him then?"

"Because he loves me. And I want to get out of here. You know, convince them I'm hopeful about the future so they'll think I'm less depressed."

"So you're stringing the poor bastard along? That's cruel."

I don't know why, but I'm stung. Maybe it's because she seems so pure and innocent. "I'm, I'm not stringing him along. I just, well, I just, I don't even know. Maybe I am just a horrible person."

Emily shrugs nonchalantly. "Maybe."

We sit silently, wrapped up tightly in our own thoughts.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for group therapy and group bonding activities. Please report to the lobby."

I feel pangs of guilt as we shuffle out of the room. I can't stop thinking about what Emily said, about not having anyone. I do and I pretty much treat him like shit. Next time he comes round I'll be nicer, I promise myself. Who are you trying to kid? You're bitch, you don't deserve anyone. Goddamn, I hate my mind sometimes.

The other patients are sitting in the lounging in the lobby: Effy and Panda are in conversation; Cook is making some joke to Freddie and JJ.

"Good, you're all here," says Eliza, the head nurse. "We'll be starting then. First activity of the day is an icebreaking activity so we can all get to know Naomi. Imagine you're on a desert island, what would you bring?"

"Oi, that's a stupid game," Cooks yells out. Tosser.

"That's because you only like drinking games," JJ says with a laugh, "And I don't think that they'd allow you to drink in this institution, the risk concerning alcoholic consumption and psychotropic medication is great; it would be a large liability."

"Thanks for the lesson, mate," Cook snorts out, reaching over and ruffling JJ's hair.

"James, no patient to patient touching, you know that."

"Sorry, babe, I forgot," He shrugs and ruffles JJ's hair again.

"Well, Naomi, would you like to begin?"

"Ok, I guess I'd bring a good book."

"Good choice, Naomi, thank you for your input. Pandora, what would you bring?"

"I don't know. Effy, what would I bring?"

"Doughnuts," Effy says emotionlessly.

"Yeah, right, doughnuts!"

"Er, thanks Pandora, Effy. Freddie, would you like to go next?"

"I'd bring my skateboard. God, I haven't ridden it in what, five months?"

"Not sure if there would be places to ride it, mate," Cooks grins toothily.

"Thanks Freddie. Cook, you're up next."

"Right-o. Um, let's see. I would, I would bring a crate of spliff, a shitload of vodka, and let's see, enough pussy to last me a lifetime." Sounds good to me.

"Shit, Cook, do you have to make everything dirty? Can't you treat women with respect, for once? Maybe that's why no one will bother to fuck you," Emily says disdainfully.

"Fucking yeah, I'm dirty! Women love dirty, you'd do well to take a lesson from me. How much ass did you get before? None? Yeah, I can tell you're a virgin. Will be for the rest of your life. You're never getting out of here."

"Cook," the nurse chastises, "That's inappropriate."

Emily's eyes are beginning to well up with tears. I feel a pang in my heart, because maybe I'm not such a frigid bitch.

"Hey, Cook, go fuck yourself. That's the most you'll be getting for a long time, cuz it's not like you'll be getting out anytime soon either."

Cook's nostrils flare and he looks ready to burst. Shit, he has intermittent explosive disorder, maybe it wasn't the best idea to bait him. He looks to Eliza who says, "Deep breaths, James, deep breaths." How utterly unhelpful. Somehow though, Cook's breathing steadies and he looks calm again.

"Excellent job controlling your anger, James, really good," Eliza crows. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, we're going to do another ice breaker. Two truths and a lie. Tell your partner two truths and one lie about yourself. We'll try and guess which ones are which. Ok, JJ and Effy, Pandora and Cook, Freddie with me, and Emily with Naomi."

We separate and Emily and I go over into the corner. She taps her pencil, which as a small golf pencil without an eraser, (guess you could cut yourself with the metal part of a regular pencil) not saying a word, though she looks like she wants to get out something.

"Hey-"

"Look-" We both talk at the same time. I say,"You first."

"I just, well, I wanted to thank you for what you said."

"Oh, no problem, he was being an arrogant asshole. So two truths and a lie, eh?"

"Seems like it. Ok, first truth: my favorite color is orange. Your turn."

"I work at a charity. Second truth?"

"I have a twin sister, Katie."

I snort, "That's an awful truth, Em, everyone know you have a twin sister. Might as well say "I have brown eyes, that'd be about as subtle."

"Hey, don't make fun of me, I have diminished brain function."

I can tell she's joking so I follow up with, "Yep, making fun of the schizos is practically my favorite sport. Only thing I like more than that is cutting." I chuckle, but I stop when I see her face.

Emily frowns at my words, "You cut?" She sounds concerned.

I've never really been ashamed of my cutting, because really it's my body to do what I please with, but as her gaze turns to my arms, I'm glad I'm wearing long sleeves. "Er, yeah, but that's another story. Let's get back to this super fun activity. So, tell me a good truth. You know, one that people might actually not believe."

"Ok, when I was little, I was a champion figure skater."

"Wow, I'm impressed. That's really cool." I don't know what's going on with me; I'm being cordial, kind, sounding interested in what someone else is saying, where is the real me? Guess Emily is stirring up some sisterly feelings. Yep, that's what it is.

"So mine is that, um, I lived in a communal living house when I was a teenager."

She raises her eyebrows and says sarcastically, "Fun."

"Completely. More fun than a barrel of monkeys. More fun than Kate Moss at a crack convention. More fun than your mum at an S and M club." Emily giggles. "More fun than Michael Jackson at a kid's birthday party. Too soon?"

"You're pretty funny, Naomi. You could totally be a comedian," she laughs out.

"Oh yeah, I'd get all the ladies with my signature blend of wit and utter hotness,"

"Yeah, well, you could certainly pull me," Emily says with a shy smile.

"Really? Then I'll have to look into it." Damn, are we flirting? Yes. I can't believe I'm flirting with a mental patient. You are a mental patient, loser. I wrack my brains for something else funny to say, but I'm interrupted by Eliza.

"We're meeting back up in one minute. That's sixty seconds from now, folks."

We quickly exchange our lies, then meet back up with the group.