Hope you liked it sorry for more mistakes than usual late night haha

Bruce Age: 18

Bruce tried to melt into the rusty boxcar's side. His heavy breath muffled by his hands as he heard the crunch of gravel. The cops were near by, it was a casual search for any hobos trying to hitch a ride. Bruce had been through this a thousand times and yet he couldn't stop the acceleration of his heart of the fear that made his knees weak.

Bruce had always felt like he had bad luck. He always felt like he was running and getting no where, when all he was hoping for was a better place than the one he had come from. Yet here he was in another small town dirty tired and hungry but had no safe place. Sometimes Bruce wondered whether he should go back. His father would give him a place to stay even if it meant he had to take a beating or sell himself. He always had a place no matter how painful.

Bruce waited for the other shoe to drop and something else happen to him. He knew it was inevitable but he tried to keep himself safe when on the tracks even if it meant jumping out of the train to keep from being attacked.

"Hey kid stop!"

Bruce was running from the cops again. It wasn't his first run in and wouldn't be his last. He was sleeping in an old train box cart when he was found. Bruce ran out holding his bag tight to his chest as he went for the fence. He leaped at it and quickly moved into the next motion. He was jumping over when a cop tackled him down form the tall fence.

Bruce kicked him and got back up. The desperation and need more powerful than his exhaustion or hunger. Bruce wasn't going to get away. He couldn't deal with being put in a cell.

"Kid we don't want to hurt you. We just want to talk" one cop said hands up and walking toward him. The other coming from around the fence. Bruce gritted his teeth and fought to stay in control and not let his fear get to him. Bruce stepped back.

"I'm sorry. I meant to go to a shelter please let me go"

"No can do. We have to take you in. Your family is probably looking for you"

"No! I'm not going back" Brice snapped and started to run off. The new town unfamiliar and unsettling. No matter how many times he wanted to go home and beg for forgiveness he knew he couldn't. The fear alone of what could happen would leave Bruce in a panic attack. A set of foot steps loud behind him. The man wasn't letting up and Bruce was running on fumes. He had to get away, but the man smashed into him ad they collided with an alley wall.

"please don't take me back please I'll be good, but don't take me back" Brice sobbed the desperation an ache in his soul.

"shhhh... Its going to be ok. I just need you to calm down"

The cops took him in but when they saw the scars they put him on twenty four hour watch.

After the twenty four hours Bruce was giving a choice.

"you can go to jail have a record but going to an asylum for a month and have a clean slate."

"the asylum"

Bruce was forced into this and at first it wasn't bad. He received three meals a day and had a warm bed. But that's where the good ended. He was forced to take drugs, but not all of them were meant to help. The adults were harsh and abusive. The asylum was dirty and the doctors and nurses were cruel. They had the power to do anything to them, to Bruce.

When Bruce met with the therapist it was clear he had depression, anxiety, and ptsd, but Bruce wasn't given drugs for that. He was made to take drugs not yet tested to see if the side affects. All of them seemed to harm Bruce. Bruce tried to run from the drugs at first but they would tie him up and force him to swallow. It was a painful process that Bruce soon stopped fighting. He and other patients tried fighting the drugs but they had to pick their battles or there would be nothing left of them. The young genius started to throw up in the first week and wasn't able to keep any food down. His hands would constantly shake and insomnia kicked in only a week later. Bruce tries to get off the meds again but the nurses would strap him down and force the pills into his system. He would fight if it meant he could focus again or eat without throwing up.

Bruce was looking like a druggie. It had been three weeks and Bruce wasn't sure he would survive the asylum. He had gone through taking pills, seizures, and electro shock therapy. The shock therapy had only taken place twice before his wrist broke. His stomach pumped when he had taken someone else pills on accident but not matter how much he begged it wasn't good enough.

Then Bruce met a patient the new patient. He was the same age as Bruce but he seemed so confident and sane it made no sense for him to be at the Asylum.

"Why are you here?" Bruce asked when they had their free time in a common area.

"Because I'm off my rocker" he snapped clearly angry.

"Sorry what's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with you!"

"Sorry! And nothing it was either this or jail. I'm Bruce by the way."

"Well did you make the right choice? And its Loki"

"No they are making me take drugs I don't need" Bruce mumbled his hands shaking and stomach in knots.

"Yes they tend to do that here"

"Can't you make them stop!" Bruce cried his muscles tense and cramping.

"No haha this is an asylum once you come here no one believes you about anything" Loki whispered looking haunted.

Bruce felt sick and started to cry silently. Loki patted his shoulder apologetically.

"I know"

It was true. Loki did understand. It was frustrating to be in a place that made you feel crazier than you actaully were. It hurt to be seen as a freak and now to be acting like one. He couldn't help but rock back and forth or mumble to himself. He was so exhausted he couldn't control the agitated fidgeting or the tensing of his body when someone got to close.

Then one night the week before he was meant to leave a patient attacks a nurse and before lock up was finished went to help. Bruce's door left unlocked. All he had to do was go out the back. An easy enough task. For once Bruce took Natasha's advice and ran. He slipped out the back and ran. He went to look for Loki and begged for him to come but the man refused saying it was worse for him to leave. Bruce sobbed but hugged the man and than ran. He wore no shoes and had no idea where he would go, but decided anywhere better than the hell hole he had been in.

Bruce stole some clothes from a laundry mate and quickly dressed. His had lost about twenty pounds since his arrival at the asylum. He had found himself lost and alone. He felt as of he had lost his sanity and didn't know what to do. Bruce started for the train tracks barefooted ignoring the stabbing pain of the rocks. He found himsekf on another train trying to push the memories of the last year away, but the scars would forever be imbedded in his mind.

hope you enjoyed