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7.

When Bullfrog finally called that night, Clare was a mess. "What's going on? Is he okay? Have you seen him?" Clare blurted out as soon as she heard his voice.

"He's alright," Bullfrog reassured her in his slow drawl. "He's at Toronto East General now. Cece and I have been there for most of the week. They have an inpatient psychiatric unit for adolescents so that's where he's staying right now. They said he's bipolar."

"Yes, Principal Simpson told me." Clare fought to keep her voice calm.

"Yeah, sorry about that." She could hear Bullfrog sigh. "We wanted to tell you ourselves, but things have just been so crazy, literally. We got a call Thursday evening and drove straight to Goderich. They kept him locked up all night. We didn't even get to see him. But Friday morning a psychiatrist came in and diagnosed him, then she recommended moving him. He just lost it, Clare. The bipolar thing makes sense if you think about it; he's always ecstatic one minute and then completely depressed the next. But I guess the stress of juvie was just too much for him." He cleared his throat. "Look, he's not allowed to have any visitors besides us for at least a month, and he's not allowed to use the phone either. But you can still write him. He'd like that." He gave Clare the address. "We'll keep you updated on what's going on, but basically they're trying out some different drugs to help him calm down. He's doing some therapy too, alone and with us. The doc says she'll want to get the people closest to him involved at some point, so we told her about you and Adam."

Bullfrog went on for a few more minutes about treatment and how Eli was doing, but Clare was beyond hearing. She murmured a goodbye before he hung up, but her mind was already on the next letter she would write.

Dear Eli,

I hope you're okay. I was really worried for awhile. I still am, actually. I don't understand what's happening. Did you know something was wrong with you, like with the hoarding? Or has this illness overtaken your mind to the point that you never realized that you stepped outside the bounds of reality? I'm sure you're asking yourself these questions now, but I doubt that either of us will have the answers anytime soon.

Mr. Simpson sat me down to tell me what was going on. Bullfrog said that he and Cece were too caught up in the situation. I know you don't care for Simpson much, but honestly, he was incredibly understanding toward me. I understood the basic concept of bipolar disorder, but he took the time to explain it more in depth. I took the time to do a little research. It's all very complicated, as I'm sure you're finding out. I'm sure the hospital will get you back on track though. Pretty soon, things will be back to normal. I love and miss you, Eli. I wish I could be with you to give you some emotional support, but know that my thoughts and prayers are with you (even if you don't always appreciate my prayers). Write me soon.

Love always,

Clare

Two days later, a reply came.

Clare,

Screw Simpson, screw this hospital and screw you too if you believe everything they're telling you. It's all bullshit. Yeah, I got in a fight and kicked that guy's ass, but he was asking for it. I didn't mean to hurt him as bad as I did and I'm sorry for that, but I'm NOT crazy. I don't belong here. You have no idea what this place is like. It makes juvie look like the playground. There's a guy here who tried to burn down his house with his family in it, and an anorexic girl who cries about being fat even though you can see every one of her ribs. We're not allowed to have forks because everybody is suicidal but me. You think I belong in a place like this? Because I don't.

They put me here because I beat them at their own game. They try to lock us up and make us into good little sheep, but I decided to play the wolf instead. Now they're feeding me pills and brainwashing me so I'll start following the rules. I'm in therapy for so much of the day that I barely have time to eat and sleep. I have private therapy, group therapy, family therapy, music therapy – the list goes on and on. They read some of my writing and said that it's "deeply disturbing". They're concerned that I might have "suicidal and homicidal ideations", meaning they think I'm going to hurt myself or someone else. I didn't want to hurt anyone until I got here. I wasn't crazy until I got here. This place is making me crazy. If you're really on my side, if you truly love me like you say you do, then you'll help me find a way to get out of here before I lose my fucking mind.

Eli

Clare called Adam as soon as she finished the letter. Ten minutes later, they were grabbing a table at the Dot, with Clare ordering drinks as Adam read Eli's words. Clare couldn't bear to watch, so she closed her eyes and let her head rest against the window behind her as she tried to block out everything.

"This is nuts," Adam announced as he finished reading the letter for the second time.

Clare snorted. "Isn't that the whole problem with this situation?" There was a momentary pause as the waitress set their drinks on the table. Clare took a small sip of her soda.

"Well, yeah," Adam finally agreed. "But I had no idea he was that much of a loose cannon. I mean, he's always been really moody…"

"And he gets obsessed with things," Clare pointed out, "like his feud with Fitz."

"And he never really coped with Julia's death," Adam continued.

"But I had no idea that he was so…" Clare trailed off as she searched for the right word.

"Delusional?" Adam supplied.

"Yeah. Delusional," Clare echoed, stuffing the letter back into her purse. "The person who wrote this letter has no ability to differentiate between fantasy and reality."

"So what do we do?" Adam voiced the question that was on both of their minds.

Clare shrugged. "What do you think we should do?"

"I don't have a fucking clue."