The bus was empty save for a single elderly lady who sat talking to the driver. Vince examined his ticket critically. '215A Camden Market via South London General'. Howard and Naboo sat on the row in front, trying to smile reassuringly, but only succeeding in appearing a little threatening. The vehicle hissed and creaked as it turned a corner.

"She's alright y'know. I used to know her. Well. Saboo still does, cos she's got a sideline selling magical supplies." Said Naboo, who was scowling slightly, as though struggling to remember something. Vince, however, stayed silent, and slumped with his head lolled against the window listlessly.

"It'll be alright. You need to get better." Howard sighed, glancing out the window to see where they were. "You'll see it's for the best, eventually."

The corridors so strongly of disinfectant, it was a wonder the patients did not get high on the stuff Vince thought, eyeing a suspiciously happy pair of hedgehogs frolicking on the painted wall. Even though Naboo and Howard had told him the directions what seemed like hundreds of times, he was hopelessly lost, and stood outside the children's ward dithering.

The piece of paper tucked in his jean pocket simply read "Dr C Powell, Ward 15, Floor 5." Only a few workers were wandering about, one particular wheeling a tiny newborn past in an intensive care cot. He considered not going at all. The person, or therapist or whatever would probably be stuffy and over-analytical and a complete moron. Then again, if they knew Naboo, word would soon get around, and then he'd be in even more trouble, if that were possible.

After what seemed like hours, a kind looking nurse shuffled over, a clipboard tucked under her arm.

"Can I help you?" She said, stifling a yawn. "Sorry, I've been on call since three this morning…" He handed her the piece of paper, and tapped his foot anxiously. "Oh, I know who you want. Please, follow me." She sighed, and set off down the corridor, regulation sneakers squeaking efficiently.

After a few elaborate turns through the wards, the nurse departed, leaving him outside a plain, unlabeled wooden door. It wasn't exactly promising. He could imagine the inside, white-washed walls and typical furniture. Apprehension building, he knocked politely, and went in.

The large room, if it could be called that, was astounding, and a blatant rebellion against the rest of the building. Indian wall hangings in rainbows of different colours glittered, and huge pieces of equally bright silk were draped across the ceiling. A woman in a vibrant purple and gold sari walked towards him, long black hair rippling down her back. Only a small white ID card giving away her true status.

"Hello, you must be Vince Noir. I'm Dr Chandra Powell, senior psychologist here, although I know I look a little…unorthodox." Her accent lilted appropriately, though was not directly placeable to anywhere in particular. "Please, sit down" Chandra smiled warmly, and gestured to an old, squashy sofa, that although battered, looked inviting. Vince gladly seated himself, and wilted against the soft fabric. On the small coffee table, a single file was laid out, next to a terracotta tray that held fragrant, glowing embers. After shuffling though a few notes, she turned her strikingly beautiful face to him, looking concerned but empathetic.
"I understand you have recently attempted suicide, and have since been self harming. Is this true?"
"Mmmh." Vince looked at his feet, shuffling nervously. He looked scared.
"Then I am sorry to hear it….but surely there must be something that made you do this in the first place…? Don't worry; you don't have to talk about it yet. Just relax. We're going to help you."

Gahhh. I know it's naff…..please review though?