The final bell rang at Hartford High, and with that bell there was an outpouring of students from behind the orange iron doors. Rose Greyson was part of that herd, rushing to her car, a black Lincoln, and then attempting to beat the traffic out of the parking lot. She smiled slightly; her parents had bought this car as a birthday present, hoping it would help her mood swings. It didn't help, but it made visiting Paul a whole lot easier. As long as she had known him, he had lived in Victoria Stanley Heath Care Facility, and everyday after she got out of school, she visited him. After she parked her car in the parking lot, she hurried inside.

"Hey, Paul!" He had been looking toward the wall, but at the sound of her voice a large smile wreathed his face. Paul had a nice smile.

"Rose, how was your day?"

"Great, how about you?"

"Same old, same old…" He reached over towards her, "Come over here and sit, so I know where you are." Rose smiled, and walked over to the pink vinyl chair next to the bed.

"Paul, what's wrong?" her forehead crinkled, and she cocked her head to the side.

"Nothing." He replied quickly.

"Liar…"

He sighed softly. "It's just been one of those days… Rose what do I look like?"

What?!

Rose moaned, and grabbed her head.

"Rose?" he tried to smile. "Am I really that ugly?"

"No." she choked out, as the voices filled her head. Please, save him! Two dollars for coffee? That's ridiculous! Mommy's mean…Gosh that's a lot of pudding… JEAN! The last voice was shouting, with everything it had. It filled her being entirely, and something within her wanted nothing more than to comfort that voice…that man so full of sorrow…

Paul reached for her hand. "It's the voices again isn't it?"

"Yeah…" she murmured, and she clung to his hand as though it were the only thing holding her here.

"Shhh." He whispered. Rose laid her head down on the edge of his bed, the scratchy mint green coverlet tickling her nose. Paul felt the change in weight on his bed, and he stroked her silky hair. "Its alright… don't worry it will all be okay…"

She finally looked up at him with tear stained cheeks, and whispered, " Paul… What's wrong with us?"

Scott watched this scene from the door, in shock, remembering a similar situation with Jean; only he had comforted her in the middle of the night, and after a nightmare.

"There is nothing wrong with you, Rose. And there is nothing wrong with Paul, either."

She spun around as she scrubbed her cheeks, and when she faced him, her brown eyes flashed fire. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"My name is Scott Summers, and I can help you."