AUTHOR'S NOTE- Well its about time! lol I know and I'm sorry for the break in uploads I had school and well yeah, thats pretty much a vaccum for all my free time. Luckily I have some vactaion left so I'm gonna pump out as much as I can for you wonderful people without having to degrade in quality! Any ways thanks for staying with it this long and I can finally say we're past the half way point!


I did not remember the trip back to the mental hospital.

Nor did I remember being forced to shower, eat and then locked up in a small room.

All I remembered was screaming and crying until my throat gave out, and fighting the guards until they gave me several tranquilizers. I also remembered the terrible, awful details of my past, and how utterly alone I felt.

I hugged my knees to my chest as hard as I could, as the relentless stream of tears still fell from my eyes, which were now stinging from the constant stress.

I was shaking and my head pounded. I tried to take deep breaths to calm myself, but every time I did I only ended up sobbing once again.

The magnitude of my grief had always terrified me, probably one of the reasons I had denied the past had happened in the first place. Now that I finally had to confront it, it had managed consumed what was left of me, leaving behind the persisting question, why?

Why was I the one who lived? What did I do to deserve life instead of my brothers? Why was I so special?

I reasoned that it was nothing. It was a mistake that I had lived while they died. All of my brothers could have made something of their lives instead of rotting away in a mental hospital. They all had so much more to offer than I ever did.

So why did they die?

If there was a God then it was because he had a plan, because things were somehow supposed to end up better than this. But even if my brothers' deaths lead to some ultimate good, I'd replace it instantly. I would much rather live a miserable life with them, than a wonderful one alone.

If there was no God then they died for nothing, just victims of an unlucky break and a maniac with a knife. What's more it wouldn't have mattered. The Universe didn't care about three teenagers who died too soon and neither did society. Maybe our story made the news. Maybe we even earned a few 'ahhs' and 'that's too bad' from the audience watching, but that was it. They tuned off their TVs and returned to their lives, forgetting us.

Everyone is eventually forgotten.

I buried my face deeper into my sweaty skin and I realized all the memories I was now the sole keeper of.

Like how Michael would always lick the biggest slices of pizza to claim dibs on them, or how Ralph would steal fresh lettuce from the neighbor's garden to feed his pet turtle, or how Leon would always stay up late watching Space Heroes.

How was I supposed to live on without them? They weren't just family members, they were my best friends. My only friends. Without them I had no body to love, laugh with, or even trust.

I had come to hate the phrase 'rest in peace'. When I last saw my brothers they didn't look peaceful, they looked dead. I also hated anyone who tried to make light of this, like those who said appreciate the time you had with them not the time you didn't.

No. If I ever had any appreciation for them then I would never let this go. If they had given me any happiness then I owed it to them to mourn them for the rest of my life.

How could I possibly have a happy life when they were dead? And what would the point even be? The universe, society or God, didn't care that my brothers died, why should I care about them in return? Why should I be part of a world my brothers were robbed from?

I hated the idea of getting over it. I hated anyone who wanted me to feel better. I hated everyone else. I hated myself. I hated because it was so much easier than anything else.

The door opened and I barely reacted. When I heard footsteps come closer I pulled myself into a tighter ball. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I didn't want to acknowledge that anyone else even existed. I didn't...

Dr. Jones interrupted my train of thought when wrapped his arms around me. I untangled myself from my curled up ball and tried prying myself free from his embrace. I didn't want comfort, I wasn't ready to feel better.

Dr. Jones's embrace stayed firm. In frustration I started hitting and screaming at him to let go, but instead he held me tighter.

Finally, I gave in and broke down in his embrace, burying my face in neck and squeezing his chest for support. I cried, more deeply this time, and as Dr. Jones gently stroked my back, it slowly started to feel good to have someone listen.


After what felt like hours I finally pulled away from his embrace and wiped the tears from my cheeks. By that time my eyes were so swollen it was hard to out of them.

"Daniel," Dr. Jones started breaking what seemed like ages of silence.

"Do you do this for all your patients?" I whispered.

Dr. Jones smiled, "None actually, but you're more than a patient Daniel, you're my friend."

I was too embarrassed to tell him that that would make him my first so instead I nodded and stared shyly down at the floor.

"So would it be too much for me to ask you to come have dinner?" he said.

I wanted to refuse, but something told me he wouldn't be taking no for an answer. Besides, at that point the only thing that hurt worse than my head was my stomach. I hadn't had a decent meal in quite a while.

"I want the good stuff." I declared, "Not whatever it is they serve the patients."

"I'll see what I can do," Dr. Jones said with a smile.


Dr. Jones must have had a greater influence in this place than I gave him credit for. Not only did he manage to get me a seat with the staff members but I was also allowed to walk around without handcuffs. Maybe they figured that I didn't have a reason to fight them anymore.

Initially I had stacked my plate with every piece of food I saw on that buffet table, but as soon as I sat down my ravenous appetite died down and I felt sick. All I could imagine was the uncut steak on my plate and my father's icy glare upon me.

I noticed Dr. Jones physically frown when I pushed the food aside and placed my head on my folded arms. I knew he wanted to say something but was probably intimidated from the those at the table.

However, except for Dr. O'Neil and Dr. Goldstein I didn't know any of them.

Dr. O'Neil was sitting right across from me and hadn't taken her eyes off of me since I sat down. My very appearance seemed to drive her to the verge of tears.

Not that I really cared though...or did I? Ever since I found out she wasn't completely lying to me about my past, I didn't know how to feel about her.

On one hand she kept me in a cell and drugged my food without permission, and on the other...well I didn't really have a choice.

After all everyone I had previously cared about were dead so...

I felt tears start to run down my cheeks again and took a deep breath to keep myself from losing it.

What was I going to do? I was completely alone and lost. Even if I did ever get out of here, where would I go? What would I do? And worse, what if I didn't?

Dr. O'Neil stretched her hand out to take mine. I wanted to pull back as a reflex but didn't.

"Daniel," she said quietly, "I am so sorry."

I studied her eyes. They looked sincere. Heck they even looked empathic, like she understood a fraction of the pain that I was going through.

"I-I don't know what...what I'm going to do." I whimpered.

"I'm going to help you get through this Daniel," she said, "Now that you have accepted your past I will do everything I can to help you get through it. I promise I will not quit on you until you're better."

And for the first time, I believed her.