This one was really fun to write, because it features one of Emma's most vulnerable moments. I know it's only the third chapter, but I think it's important to see that side of her as well. She's an incredibly complicated character and entirely my own, I guess, and she IS a sociopath, but I do think she has feelings and you'll see more of that soon. I'm introducing a new character in this, Donavan, and he will play a pretty big part in the story. For some reason, I just picture him as a more badass version of Harry Styles and I don't know if that is okay or not, bu eh. I really love all the feedback and I appreciate it so much! Enjoy :3 -Beth

PS: Look at this picture I found! I saved it, because it reminded me of the story, even with the nurse in the background who is in my mind, Alaina. This is how I picture Emma! http/oi43(period)tinypic(period)com/2ilyctv (period) jpg

Alaina is based off the nurse I had when I was in a mental hospital. She's beautiful :) Okay. Sorry!


My sessions with Doctor Dickhead always seemed to go exactly the same. He tried to analyze me, sitting there across from me on his wheely, leather chair. He sat back, somehow always on edge, with his little clipboard in hand, pen clicking constantly, and eyebrows furrowed. His foggy, dirty glasses lay on the tip of his big nose and he just stared at me. He stared and stared and stared and sometimes all of our sessions just consisted of us staring. I didn't say a word, he didn't say a word, and when the timer rang on his desk, comemoring another hour of just bullshit, I left, saying nothing at all.

Sometimes, I sat and just drew, and when he asked me questions, I flipped him off and didn't speak. He would eventually give in, check in the letterbox that he was given to evaluate me that said not progressing and call it a day.

But today, I had to hand it to Sheldon: He wanted me to speak and he was pretty determined. Be careful what you wish for, Sheldon.

"Esmeralda, it should come to no surprise to you that you have developed an abusive relationship with many of the other patients in here," He began, in a strict, even voice. I sat, cross-legged and relaxed, as his brown, muddy eyes bored into mine. Gimme a fucking break, Shel.

"Mmm, I'd like to call it challenging. C'mon, Sheldon, most of these kids you call patients in here are so fucked up that they have no idea how to talk about their problems. At least I bring them to the surface," I said, grinning wide. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, preparing himself.

"Why did you feel the need to set off Colleen today? You seem to carry a very strong rage toward her, Mary has said." I groaned, dramatically rolling my eyes.

"Yeah, well, Mary the Hippie seems to carry a very strong bullshit vibe, so I wouldn't take her word for it, Shel." I sat back, looking down at my hands. I wish I was in my room, smoking the cigarettes and letting the blades I hid do their magic work. I just wanted to see the blood, the beautiful, warm blood that felt so natural to me.

"You target people who are weaker than you, Esmeralda." He said that like he was stating the most brilliant thing in the entire world. I didn't say anything, too bored already. These dipshits could psychoanalyze me all day if they wanted to.

They're all wrong.

"You see Colleen, a well-off girl who is pretty, but proves to have a weaker exterior than most. You do the same with Julie and Olivia, and even Courtney. You prey on the weak. It's fun for you, for some reason. It's an urge you cannot control." I glared at Doctor Dipshit and raised my eyebrows.

I smiled, slightly. "Well, gosh. You got me all figured out, don't you, Sheldon?" I paused.

Doctor Dickhead just stayed still, his face just as serious.

"You sit there on your nice leather chair day after day and you write down your almighty powerful notes and what? You go home, fuck your fat wife and start all over again. See, you fucking shrinks think you're invincible, don't you? You just think you're immune," I began and I saw him flinch a bit. I smiled, shaking my head.

"But you see, Shel, I know I'm crazy. It's what they call a paradox, right?" I asked, pretending not to know. Of course I knew. My IQ was on par, apparently, with Albert Einstein. They told my mother back in third grade that I could be in middle school already, possibly high school.

She laughed and said they were all crazy.

"I know I'm a crazy, little girl with damaging, abnormal thoughts or whatever bullshit you want to label me as having. Sociopath, psychopath, depressed, whatever. But what does it say about a person who makes it their entire profession to sit there, playing god and judging crazy, fucked up people all day?" I paused, tsking, and shrugged.

"I think it's rather obvious, don't you? I might be fucked up beyond anyone's help, but you, Shel? You're more fucked than the rest of us combined. You hide behind that bullshit, therapist persona and you put your little crooked glasses on and your fancy suit and somehow that makes you feel important. That makes you feel, what exactly? Better about yourself? You must think you're the sanest person in the entire world when you work at a place like this."

Doctor Paterson shifted in his seat, uncomfortably, and I saw his eyes flicker away from mine. I bored into his own eyes, a sadistic grin plastered on my face.

"This job is for weak, sad little fucked up people who want to pretend that they're not nearly as fucked as they really are. It's so much easier to sit back and call other people out on their own shit than actually confront your own. So, I don't know, Shel. Maybe you and I should switch places," I joked, lightly, and yawned, loudly. That wasn't even my worst.

There was a pause, as he sighed.

"You like to try and pinpoint other people's weaknesses and prey on them. That doesn't make me judgmental, Esmeralda. That makes me observant, as your therapist," He stated, his even voice a little bit shaken. I chuckled, nodding.

"So, you're saying you're an official shithead?"

"No. What I'm saying is if you don't clean up your act and start behaving in a way that is acceptable and decent, then we will have no choice."

I stopped smiling. I stopped everything. I looked up, my eyes fierce, round and murderous. I paused, swallowing hard.

Doctor Paterson shifted in his chair again, feeling a bit more confident now that he had shut me up a little bit.

"It is simply out of my hands. When you reach the legal age of eighteen, we have the power to kick you out, but you also have the power to sign yourself out. Your mother will no longer by your legal guardian." The last part was like music to my ears. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"So, this place is all good and fine, as long as you're fucking rich enough to afford it? As it turns out, you can get help, but it will fucking cost you." I spat, gritting through my teeth. Doctor Paterson folded his hands on the clipboard.

"It has nothing to do with that. Your mother has contacted us and she has said that once you turn eighteen, she has given up all legal responsibilities for you, including the money and insurance," I wanted to laugh out loud. Just one last final betray, one last "fuck you" from the cocksucker. She ruined every single one of my birthdays growing up, so it makes sense she would ruin the last one, as I turned into an adult.

I scoffed, rubbing my eyes with exhaustion. "So, uh, what? You kick me out and I go live on the streets? Fine," I said, shrugging, but I couldn't pretend that the mere thought of sleeping on the cold streets of New York City didn't make me upset, or stressed out. I would have nothing.

"No, we wouldn't do that. We would place you into a home, a woman's shelter, a boarding house. We wouldn't just kick you out off to live on the streets," He said, and somehow that sounded so much worse. I shrugged, smiling.

"Why not? It obviously doesn't matter." Oh, shut up. You're a stupid whore, Emma, and you know it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You're a fucking bitch, and you're weak.

Doctor Paterson propped his face on his elbow. "And why do you say that, Esmeralda?" I glared at him.

"Shel, let me clue you in on a little secret, okay? I don't give a flying fuck about anyone. Not one single goddamn person. So why the hell would anyone give a fuck about me?" He paused, leaning back in his chair again.

"Esmeralda, your behavior here for the last three years has been yes, erratic, but everyone can get better, if they want to, truly. The question is: Do you want to get better?" You can't get better, not if this is who you have been born to be. You can't just go from whom you are to someone who is deemed acceptable in society. You can't run away like that.

I got up from the couch and walked over to the door. "We're done for today, Sheldon. I'll see you for another riveting session tomorrow."

Asshole. You're a psychopath, a mere piece of garbage that has no business living. Exterminate, exterminate. Die, die, die.


I sat against the padded wall in the gym, watching as everyone else played around. It came as a bit of surprise when I found out that there were only about three boys being treated in the male adolescent ward, including little Kurt Cobain. I looked up from scribbling in my notebook and I watched as he played around with Courtney, chasing her around with the ball. She laughed, giggled like the little girl she was, as he chased her around. Colleen was still being treated in the quiet room and Olivia and Julie were attempting to play volleyball in the center. We were a small group; I knew that, but jesus. Our problems filled up the entire room, all the way up to the brim until we couldn't breathe.

"Emma, Emma! C'mon, play with Tate and I!" Courtney cried, happily, her cheeks flushed with crimson. Tate looked over at me, a bit out of breath and sweaty, his smooth cheeks also a bit pink. I bit down on my lip and pretended to think about it.

"Hmmm, let me think about it, Torch." She anticipated my sarcastic remark and the smile vanished from her face. She hung her head down in shame and swallowed hard.

"No fucking way?" She quoted me. I smiled, wide.

"I'm thinking so, Torchy." She ran off, not wanting to get into a fight with me. Tate stayed behind as I went back to drawing. He stood there for a few seconds and then I looked back up at me. His black eyes were boring, angrily, into mine. He had his fists slightly clenched.

"Can I help you, Kurt Cobain?"

"Who the fuck do you think you are? Calling an innocent, little girl that name after all she has been through?" He spat at me, his tone low and seething. I rolled my eyes and sighed. I really had no patience with this kid.

"Aw, that's cute. You're starting to like the little retard, aren't you?" Before I could even say another word, his eyes grew big and he slapped me, hard, across the face.

Right away, a few nurses came over and pushed him back. He put his hands out, as if he were fine. "I'm okay, I'm fine! I'm fine, let go of me!" I held my now red cheek and got up.

I stared at him, a devilish grin on my face. "Wow, little Cobain, you just can't keep your fucking hands to yourself, can you?" I taunted him, as Danny came between us.

"Guys, guys! Stop! What happened?" I looked to Tate, my eyebrows raised and I gestured toward him.

"Please, Kurt, be my guest and explain." Tate looked at Danny and took a deep breath. He then looked at me, looking right into my sarcastic smile, and his eyes were fuming. I had no idea what had set him off, why in the world he was suddenly so protective of Torch, but whatever.

"Whatever. I'm sorry. She's not worth it," He said and walked back over to Torch, who was staring in disbelief that someone had actually stood up to me about calling her Torch. No one ever did, and I had to hand it to Tate. No one ever seemed to question anything I did or stop me. For good reason, because I would kick their ass, but still.

"All right, everyone! We're going to start group! Everyone gather in the middle of the gym, please!" I heard Mary the Hippie say. She came back into the gym with Colleen, who kept his head low and her eyes down to the floor.

I smiled, getting up. This would be fun.

Everyone, including the guys this time, got to the center of the gym and we all sat in a circle, cross-legged. Colleen sat next to Torch, who held her hand, sweetly, and told her some words of comfort. I smiled, even wider.

"Okay, everyone. So, this is our first group with everyone, bad and girl, and so-"

"Hey, Col! How was the little vacay you had today? The room got silent and Colleen, hung her head even lower in shame and embarrassment, but I could still see her cheeks burning. Mary looked at me, her eyes stern.

"Emma. If you talk out again like that one more time, I'll have to ask Danny to bring you back to your room for the entire night." I rolled my eyes as she looked away, but Tate stared right at me. His eyes were so angry, so raged, and disgusted.

He hated me, but that was okay. I hated everyone.

"Anyhow, how about we go around the circle and introduce ourselves and say a little bit about who you are?" We started with Courtney, then Colleen, then Julie, then and Olivia.

And then it was Tate's turn. He cleared his throat, looking at his converse. "Uh, hi. I'm, uh, Tate. I'm eighteen years old and I'm in here today because...Because I have bipolar disorder, anxiety, anger issues and depression. I'm also prone to black-outs." I leaned forward, smirking.

I wanted to have some fun. Sue me.

"Hmm, that must have been hard on your classmates there, Tate," I said aloud, and everyone froze. Tate looked at me, eyes narrowed. I smiled back at him.

"Emma! That's a warning!" Mary scolded, and I rolled my head back and laughed, because that was about the third time she told me that. Tate cleared his throat again.

"Tate, you don't have to explain anything to us, okay?" Mary said, kindly. Tate nodded, but then he shrugged. He looked over at me, eyes narrowed and mean.

"No...No, it's fine. I threatened to bring in a gun to school, because...because I have a little sister and she's mentally disabled with autism. Kids were making fun of her, so I brought in the gun and held them all hostage, but I...I didn't go through with it. I broke down beforehand and they sent me here," He said, his voice even and pretty calm.

Mary nodded, smiling warmly at him. "Thank you very much for sharing that with us, Tate. We greatly appreciate it." I rolled my eyes, now piecing together why he had gone so apeshit before. Courtney moved over and snuggled up to him.

I wanted to honestly vomit.

The next boy sitting next to Tate had curly, shaggy brown hair, covered up with a beanie, and deep brown eyes. He wore tight jeans and a Metallica shirt. He had a tattoo on his arm the shape of a skull and I figured I'd let him fuck me if he truly and honestly wanted to. Whatever.

"I'm Donavan, and I'm eighteen. I got high on LSD and pot and I raped a total of thirteen girls and killed one of their boyfriends. They sent me here until I'm twenty-one." His voice was very detached, almost as if he felt no emotion or attachment to his crime. I raised my eyebrows, not expecting that. Mary shifted in her seat, her eyes narrowed in deep thought, as if debating in her head how to respond to this.

"That's very brave of you to say, Donavan. You were just sent here yesterday?" She asked, sweetly, but Donavan just pulled out a lighter from his pocket and a thing of cigarettes. I smirked, waiting for someone to actually stop him.

But no one did.

"Uh, Mary the Hippie, what the fuck is this? Evel Knievel gets to light up in here but the rest of us don't?" Donavan laid back, puffing smoke out of his mouth and looked at me.

"So. This is the crazy bitch everyone's afraid of." Oh, for the love of fuck. I didn't need some crazy motherfucking drug addict coming in here and stirring trouble.

I smiled, sarcastically. "Well, aren't you just observant? Bravo. But seriously, Mary, what the hell?" I asked, turning back to her. Mary cleared her throat again, shifting.

"Emma, as you know, all the patients in here have their own plan of getting better. Doctor Paterson is allowing Donavan to smoke whenever he feels stressed or needs it," She went on, her face a bit uneven. I stared at her, hard.

"Well, isn't that just fucking great? Let the kid who killed and raped a bunch of people smoke in here, but not the funny, always exciting sociopath?" I retorted, rolling my head back and groaning. Tate looked at me and rolled his eyes.

"More like always bitchy. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you always such a goddamn bitch?" Colleen, Olivia and even Courtney burst out laughing. Mary put her hand up, quieting them and I just smiled, sweetly, at Tate.

"Sweetheart, you must really want to fuck me, considering how much attention you pay me. I'm actually flattered, but I'd be more flattered if you weren't such a cowardly, weakass little bitch who can't properly aim a gun," I snapped back and Donvan looked over at me, seemingly impressed.

Tate's cheeks went red, but he leaned forward, his eyes boring into mine. "Well, at least I haven't been here for three years and show no sign of ever getting out. You just think it's okay to say whatever the shit you want to say, and you think it makes you charming and funny, but it doesn't. It just makes you fucking pathetic." He spat at me and I rolled my head back and laughed.

This kid just never seemed to back down.

"Really? Thanks for the insight there, Kurt Cobain, I whole heartedly appreciate it, but here's a tip for you: At least I know I'm not never getting out of here and at least I know I'm a bitch, because honey, trust me, I know I am. But I'm not some cowardly, little boy who is just kidding himself into thinking he's not a demented, little fuck who just likes to bring guns into school and hold people hostage, without even doing anything at all. That isn't a sign of goodness, sweetie: It's a sign of weakness, and that kind of weakness stays with you forever, no matter how much therapy you get."

The gym was silent and all eyes were on Tate. My eyes were wide, dancing with excitement, because I always jumped at the chance to put down little shits like Tate Langdon. However, all he did was smile and shrug, carelessly.

"That might be true, Esmeralda, but at least I know people care about me, because you? You don't have a single person who would ever care about you. Not even your own mother. You can't even get her to come and visit you, because she doesn't give a shit about you at all. Who would? You're a sad, sadistic little girl, Esmeralda, and I feel sorry for you."

All of the girls gasped and I felt like the air was punched out of me. I wasn't accustomed of being handed to like that, wasn't accustomed to losing arguments. I felt my lip start to tremble, feeling as though my heart and brain were on fire. I wanted to scream, I wanted to attack him and I wanted to literally rip the flesh off of him. I wanted to see the blood, the blood of his own covered everywhere and I wanted him to suffer more than anyone else who had ever suffered. I've never been on the receiving side, having my own ass handed to me and having my own problems shoved into me.

This is what it feels like, to feel nothing. To be nothing, to want nothing, to completely shrink down to nothing at all.

Tate knew, too, that I was speechless. My cheeks, I could feel them, were burning and my mouth was slightly opened. He smiled at me, like I had smiled at him before, all sweet and pretty. I took in a deep breath and I could tell people expected me to lose my shit, but I didn't. I didn't care.

You know that he's right. You are a disgusting, little girl who likes to prey on the weak ones, just like Doctor Shithead said. Your entire life is meaningless and you like it that way, because in that way, you can pretend you're worth something. You are a monster, a horrible, mouth-breathing, disgusting beast that likes to toy with people's emotions and you can't cry or show anything at all. Doctors have gone on record saying that little beasts like you should be killed, taken off the earth, because there is no curing you. Nothing can cure you, nothing can save you. He's right. He's right.

I decided to just get up and walk away. Danny tried to follow me, ask me a bunch of questions, but I shoved him away. I knew everyone in the circle was looking at me, but I didn't care about those fuckers either. I hated them. I hated them.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE! YOU'RE ALL WEAK FUCKING HUMAN VICTIMS ANYWAY!" I screamed, my veins popping out. I nearly gave Danny a heart attack as I stormed out, slamming the gym doors behind me. I was done.

I stalked to my room, some other nurses calling my name, but I shoved them away and told them to fuck off. Alaina was probably on her dinner break, and I hardly realized how much I had relied on her to be there for me when I freaked out. You need her. You need someone. Everyone does.

"No! No! I DON'T NEED ANYONE!" I screamed, to the voice inside my head that never stopped talking.

I jumped onto of my bed, throwing whatever I could all around. I took the dresser by my own bed and put it against the door.

Nurses began to bang on it, but they couldn't enter. They were screaming my name, screaming for help, but somehow, I couldn't hear them at all.

I began to throw around my books, my pillows, my blanket, and all the pictures on the walls that I had drawn. I ripped them, shredded them with my own bare hands and I screamed and cried like a madwoman on cocaine. I stomped on the particles left; I ripped up my entire notebook and threw the book at the wall. I screamed and screamed.

You're a weakling, Esmeralda. Here you are, destroying everything you touch. Everything you touch, turns to dust, and everything you breathe is evil and gross. You aren't strong. You aren't anything at all. You're nothing. Weak.

"SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" I screamed, as I then began to rip the blankets off Tate's bed too, and ripping up the poster of Nirvana he had on his wall. I threw around his own belongings, screaming how much I hated him, how I would kill him in a heartbeat. And I was certain I would.

More banging, more screaming came from outside. "Quick! She locked herself in there! Someone, anyone, help!" "Get her out of there! Call for back up!" "She's self destructive. She will hurt herself."

I heard various voices, I'm sure, but I couldn't seem to care at all. I didn't.

I lunged for the razors under my bed and one of the nurses saw me through the little window on the door. "NO! NO! SOMEONE, HELP! CODE 302! 302! PATIENT WITH WEAPONS!" She yelled and screamed for help.

By now, my entire hair was all over the place; everything in the room looked like Nirvana had stayed the night and trashed the place. I didn't care, I never would ever again. I pulled out of the razors, as I heard a few other nurses banging on the door, trying to open it. One was trying to talk to me, another kept calling for help. I didn't need them. I needed no one. I didn't even look up as I took the razors out.

I didn't want to kill myself. I just wanted the shit to stop.

Go ahead. Slit your wrist, again and again and again. Be my guest. You're a worthless slut, aren't you? You can't be trusted, you can't be liked. You can't be anything at all. Your own mother wants you dead. Your father doesn't care.

Suddenly, in front of me, I saw my mother. I sobbed out loud as she appeared and her voice was strong and over powering. I took the razor in my hand and placed it on my soft, delicate skin.

"You should kill yourself. You're an evil, little girl who I've never loved. Daddy left because of you. He never wanted a monster for a daughter, but I don't want you either." She was drunk, bottle in hand, and I sat on the floor.

"YOU'RE A BITCH! YOU'RE A STUPID WHORE!" I yelled at her, knowing she probably wasn't there. She only smiled and kneeled down to me.

"Just like you, honey. Just like you."

Bang, bang, bang, bang. The door finally opened and there, in the doorway, were about fifteen nurses, but the one who ct through was Alaina. Her eyes, panicked and wide, didn't know what direction to look in. The ripped sheets, the destroyed particles of paper everywhere, or me, sitting on the floor next to my bed, sobbing my eyes out with a razor.

"Emma. Emma, just-"

"GET AWAY FROM ME! PLEASE! I DON'T FUCKING WANT YOU! GET OUT, GET OUT!"

Just then, Danny and another male nurse came in, rushing over and grabbing me away from the razor. I refused to let go, tugging at her and tugging at her. I needed it, I needed the blood, I never everything that made me feel like something. Go ahead; go ahead, just like me, honey.

"NO! NO! Get me my fucking razors, you prick!" I kicked and screamed and tried to bite, but they eventually grabbed it away from me. In back of the nurses in the doorway, who were all shocked and dumfounded, I saw Mary and the kids who peered in.

They tried to escort them back, but they stayed behind, to watch the unbreakable bitch that tormented them break open and spill all over the floor.

I saw Colleen slightly smile. I saw Tate's dark eyes rest on me. They were blank, not happy nor sad, just blank.

They both picked me up, carrying me out of the room. I tried to bite them, scratch them, but to no prevail. I sobbed openly, angrily, as I saw the quiet room come into my sight. Alaina was right behind them, trying to comfort me.

"Shh, it's okay, Emma, shh. You all right now, okay? You all right now."

I fought and bit them again and tried to escape. I began to run down the hallway.

Someone handed something to Alaina and she caught up with me, Danny and some other nurses getting hold of me.

It was a syringe.

"NO! No, please, Alaina! NO! NO! NOOOOOO!" I screamed.

Those needles hurt like fucking hell and knocked you out forever. She inched toward me, calming.

"Just relax, just relax."

"DON'T YOU FUCKING POKE ME WITH THAT FUCKING THING!" I screamed, and just as Alaina went to inset into my skin, I bit her. She screamed out, in pain, as Danny took me into the quiet room. He closed the door and I was left alone.

I screamed, unbearably, and slammed my fists hard against the door. Something cracked in my hand, but I didn't care. I screamed out, louder than anyone has ever screamed, and kept screaming and screaming and screaming.

Until finally, I stopped and crashed against the cement wall.

I fell down, covered my red, sobbing face with my hands and pretended as if I weren't alive.

Weak little sadistic girl, weak little sadistic girl. Your own mother doesn't want you, your own mother doesn't want you. Silly, silly little girl with an anger in you; don't you know that no one could ever want you?