Disclaimer: Don't own TW. Only my OC: Zarina.
"What happened?" I croaked as I sat up in my hospital bed. Sunlight streamed through the window beside me and I rubbed my eyes.
"You got a minor concussion," Alex told me from the table he was bent over as he wrote down my information. "Nothing too serious."
We stayed silent for a couple of moments, both of us lost in thought. My head was pounding and it felt like the room was spinning.
"I'm going out of town for the next two days," he said and I looked up at him, eyes wide.
"W-why?" I didn't want to be alone. Not at a time like that.
"The sheriff wants me to head down to LA with him tomorrow to talk to a specialist about Stiles'….condition," he hesitated. "Are you gonna be fine on your own?"
I breathed out shakily. "Of course. Always am."
He started to say something, but I couldn't focus as my eyes wandered to the open door. My mom was standing at the door, a warm smile on her face. I stood from my bed, ignoring the sudden rush of nausea I felt.
"Zarina, you can't get up," Alex tried to grab my wrist but I pulled it out of the way. "Zarina!"
"Mom," I muttered before going out the door and down the hall.
I kept my gaze focused on my mother's body, the nurses and doctors bustling around me. My mom was here. She was alive. A part of me was desperately trying to pull me back, to return to my hospital room, but I couldn't.
Before I knew it, I was entering the room where the Oni had marked me. I looked around for my mom, but all I saw was the nogitsune. Its teeth were bared in some kind of sick grin and I felt my stomach flip flop.
"Where's my mom?" I whispered.
"Six feet under the ground, if I remember correctly," it responded. "Did you honestly believe that she was here? That she would come up to you and hug you and tell you how much she loves you?"
"Why are you doing this?" my voice cracked.
"Oh, poor naïve Zarina. See, we're tricksters. We will fool you, and you've just proven how easy it is to do just that," it stepped closer to me.
"You're not real," I put my hands over my ears. "You're not real."
"We are. We're real. We're right here with you," the nogitsune lunged at me, claws extended on one of its hands.
"Stop! Zarina, don't do this!"
I gasped and blinked repeatedly. My hands were gripping a pair of scissors and it was poised in front of my stomach, as if to stab myself. Alex and a few other nurses were in front of me, most of their hands gripping my wrists, trying to pry the sharp object away from me. As they pulled at my hands, I stopped fighting them and let them move my arms away from my body.
I dropped the scissors like a hot object and stood there, eyes wide and the room spinning around me. Alex moved to stand directly in front of me, blocking me from the other nurses' visions.
"I-I'm sorry, I don't know what happened," I stuttered, breathing heavily. "I-I thought m-mom was there. It w-was so real."
He pulled me into his arms and I sighed, melting into his comfort, though the terror tore away at my chest. I'd just attempted to kill myself and I didn't even realize.
"It's okay, I believe you. We'll figure this out."
After multiple tests and check-ups with more doctors, they'd suggested to have my brother put me in Eichen House while he was gone in LA. They said the first 72 hours were free and that I'd be safe from others and myself while inside.
My brother, extremely traumatized from my little scene I'd made, was all for the idea. Plus, I was positive he was still on the fact that I was a schizophrenic and that a few therapy sessions in the psychiatric facility would make me feel better. I completely doubted that, but as we entered the building, I found myself unable to argue with his decision.
The place was honestly depressing. The walls were all white, with several windows along them, but the entire atmosphere screamed 'crazy'. People in wheelchairs were seated mindlessly around the room and several even looked back at us, causing me to shift nervously.
"Mr. Carlisle," a nurse came up to us with an overly large smile. "This way." We followed her down one of the hallways and into an office, where we sat in to chair adjacent to her desk.
"The first 72 hours there's no phone calls, no emails, no visitors," she began as she handed my brother a release form. "We will be taking her from here to a brief physical and in the morning you'll be assessed by a staff psychologist, speak to a social worker, and attend group therapy."
I saw my brother tense in his chair and he put the clipboard back onto the desk, his signature half finished. "Uh, Zarina, are you sure you have everything?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," I said slowly, raising an eyebrow.
The nurse put a pair of slippers on the desk. "You will be wearing these, Zarina. No laces allowed. You don't have a belt, do you?" I glanced down at my skirt and shook my head, pulling my lips in. "Please empty your purse and place it in here." She placed a white bin on the table and I put my phone and wallet inside reluctantly.
"Your ring, the one mom gave you," Alex said suddenly. "You hate going anywhere without it on."
"Alex, it's fine. It's just two days," I reassured, though I knew he was right. The ring she gave me made me feel safe, like nothing could hurt me, even in my nightmares. Without it, I was a nervous wreck.
I continued to place more things inside the bin, extra coins, my watch, even the hair ties on my wrist. My brother started to look around the room uncomfortably, his leg bouncing up and down. The nurse walked around her desk to guide me out of my room and my brother shot up from his seat.
"No, stop," he burst out. "I can't do this. No matter what you tried to do to yourself, I can't let you stay in here without knowing you're going to be okay."
I stood and put my hands on his shoulder gently. "Alex, I haven't been okay for a really long time."
I pulled him into a hug and he returned it, arms snaking around my waist. I felt him kiss the side of my head, lingering for a moment before pulling away.
I began to walk off with the nurse down the hall, but I didn't dare to look back at my brother or stop my steady footsteps because if I did, I wouldn't be able to start again.
"Here is your room. You are allowed out of it from the hours of 10-6 PM," the nurse informed me and I tugged on the sleeves of my new blue jumper, nodding in understanding. She opened the door and I walked inside quietly, seeing a blonde girl sitting on the bed, looking out the window.
"I'll leave you to get acquainted. You are free to explore the facility, but please be back in your room by 5:30," the nurse concluded and left the room, shutting the door behind her.
"Uh, hi," I slowly sat on my bed, looking at the girl. "I'm Zarina. Your new roommate, I guess." The girl turned, her green eyes blank and her face emotionless.
"Dana," she replied blandly. "What are you in for?"
"Schizophrenia," I said unsurely. "You?"
"Bipolar," Dana told me without any hesitation. "Though I keep telling them it's just my period acting up." I snorted and her eyes narrowed. "Is something funny?"
"N-no!" I cleared my throat. "Nothing."
Then, she started to laugh and I felt my mouth open slightly in shock. "I am totally shitting you. You're so cute."
"Thank you?" I raised an eyebrow. Yep, definitely bipolar.
"Well, you're much better than my old roommate, anyways," she shifted so she was sitting cross-legged on her bed.
"What was wrong with her?"
"She had major OCD. To the point of murdering someone when they didn't do things the perfect way she wanted them to."
"Oh my god," I blanched. "What happened to her?"
"Committed suicide. Threw herself off the roof," she answered and the way she said it so nonchalantly suggested that this type of thing happened a lot. "Come on, I'll show you around." Dana got up and I followed her out of the room and down the large staircase.
As she gave me a small tour, I finally noticed how big this place was. There were two separate buildings. One for people like me: 'minor cases' and another for the real psychos. Dana, thankfully, refrained from bringing me into the latter building.
Despite her sudden mood swings, Dana was actually pretty normal. She talked and joked like any real teenager and I was shocked to find myself feeling at ease in her presence.
Once she finished the inside portion of the tour, she took me out to an outside corridor, where multiple people were lounging around in the warm air. She guided me to a bench and we sat, the two of us leaning on pillars adjacent to each other.
"So, what's schizophrenia like?" Dana questioned. Another thing about her was that she didn't beat around the bush.
"It's…well, imagine it like having two separate brains in one body. One thought is always trying to overpower the other and the body holding them has no choice but to listen to the one that wins," I explained as best I could. "Now add suicidal tendencies, hallucinations, and paralytic nightmares into the mix and that's pretty much how it feels."
Dana whistled lowly, nodding. "Must suck. Not being in total control of your own thoughts, movements."
"It does," I agreed. Even if I wasn't really schizophrenic, having a demon invade your mind wasn't too pleasant. "How long have you been here?"
"Three years. My parents sent me here when I acted out at school. Couldn't keep my emotions in check, they said," she said bitterly.
"I'm sorry. I know you probably don't want to hear that, but I am. I know how it feels to have someone you care about think you're insane," I looked her in the eyes.
She smiled at me, but soon started sobbing, tears that hadn't been gathering the moment before falling down her cheeks. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and rubbed her arm soothingly.
I wasn't sure if this was her bipolarity acting up or just her emotions from bringing up her parents, but I wasn't about to just let her think she was along.
Her tears leaked through my shirt as she buried her face into my shoulder. No one else around us seemed to noticed or care, and I was silently thankful that they didn't.
A sort of high-pitched bell rang and I flinched, looking up at a clock nearby. 5:25. I bit my lip and pulled away from Dana, shaking her lightly.
"Hey, we have to get back into the room. Think you can pull yourself together for three minutes?" I asked gently.
She nodded like a small child, sniffling and I gave her a tiny smile before helping her stand. I kept my hand on her back as I weaved her through the other patients and up the stairs to the top floor. I pushed open the door to our room and prodded her inside, making sure to shut it behind me.
Dana slowly crawled onto her bed and curled up into a ball, which I took as a sign to not disturb her, so I didn't. Instead, I got onto my own bed, looking up at the ceiling, the soft sound of sobbing coming from the fragile girl beside me.
What could've been several hours or just a few minutes later, I heard the echo of a rope being stretched out from our floor. I shot up from my bed and pressed my ear against the doorway, listening in for anything else.
The sound almost sounded like someone hanging themselves. I glanced over at Dana to see if she'd heard it, but she had already cried herself to sleep.
After a few minutes of listening in silence, I was about to pull away when I heard a familiar voice approaching nearby.
"Okay, I know there's that whole 72 hour thing, but I really need to make a phone call," I tried to pinpoint the voice, but it was difficult due to the door muffling the sound.
"The accident that occurred is being taken care of," another, more feminine, voice brushed him off, confirming my suspicions about the suicide.
"You're seriously referring to that as an accident?" the other voice asked, incredulous. The voice was so familiar, I was irritated I couldn't find out who it was.
"Incident," the woman corrected herself and I vaguely heard her unlock the door on the other side of the hall as ours.
"Slightly better," he retorted. "Still need to use the phone. I-just five minutes. Three minutes, please? A three minute call."
"Would you like to go to sleep, Stiles?" My heart thumped and my stomach churned. Stiles. He was here. Right across the hall from me. "Or would you like to be introduced to our five-point restraint system?"
I couldn't hear anything else as the door to Stiles' room closed. I backed away from my own door, sitting onto my bed heavily. He was actually here, which meant he was okay.
But was he the nogitsune, or my Stiles? I didn't care either way. I needed to see him and the thought of having to wait through the night just to do that made me antsy. I fell back onto my bed, the springs squeaking as my weight pushed down on it.
"Zarina?" Dana propped herself onto one elbow, squinting as the sun blinded her. Her eyes were red and puffy from her crying, but other than that she looked perfectly rejuvenated. I sat up on my bed, pressing my back into the wall and pulled my legs to my chest. "Have you been up all night?"
"Couldn't sleep," I admitted, rubbing my burning eyes. "Too much on my mind."
"The first night's always the hardest," she nodded and got up, stretching her arms. The door clicked as someone unlocked it and both our heads shot to the side to look at it. "Let's get some food then take a walk. On nights like last night, all I need is fresh air."
"Alright, sounds good," I got up eagerly, the thought of seeing Stiles filling my mind.
Dana raised an eyebrow at my sudden enthusiasm, but didn't comment on it as we exited our room, going down the flight of stairs and heading for the kitchen area. We ate our tiny meal of eggs and bacon in silence and, when finished, went back into that outdoor corridor she'd showed me.
We walked down the concrete hallway, there were arches of bricks to our right and I looked through one at the trees and sunshine on the other side. It was a big difference from the bleak environment of the facility.
"I really wish I could see my little brother," she glanced at me.
"You have a brother?" I asked, surprised.
"Yeah," she smiled blissfully. "He's great. I think, out of everything, I miss him the most."
"I would too," I nodded. "You know anyone else around here?" We stopped at the doorway of where the phone was situated, a bald woman talking into it mindlessly.
"Other than a few weirdos who think they're Jesus," I snorted and she grinned. "No, not really. No one else seemed worth my time."
"And I do?" I teased.
"Actually, yes. I don't know what it is, but you seem like you don't deserve to actually be here," Dana replied seriously. "You seem perfectly normal."
"Trust me, I'm anything but perfectly normal," I muttered and I let my eyes wander around the corridor.
My heart skipped a beat when I saw a pair of hazel eyes already staring at me. He was frozen mid-step, another guy beside him, asking what was wrong, but his gaze stayed on me.
The sudden flood of love and relief that flooded his eyes was so completely Stiles that I found myself sprinting all the way to him, letting him catch me in his arms as I threw my arms around his neck.
His arms gripped my waist tightly, as if I would dissipate and I felt him whisper my name into my hair as he lifted me off the ground slightly before setting me down. I breathed in his scent and melted into every inch of him that I'd missed since he had left me.
"You're here," I whispered into his shirt. "You're real. I missed you so much."
"I missed you, too," he replied into my ear and I couldn't hold back the elated laugh that escaped my lips. It wasn't a hallucination. Not this time.
We pulled away from each other, but I kept my arms around his neck, taking in his face. He had eye bags and his face was pallid, but the bright smile that adorned it made it seem that much brighter that my heart swelled.
"What are you doing here?" Stiles looked down at me, voice breathy.
"Really long story that I should probably tell you when there are less people around," I bit my lip, smiling and he nodded, letting me go and intertwining our fingers.
"Uh, Oliver, this is Zarina. My girlfriend," he gestured to me while turning to the boy he was walking with before. I gave him a sheepish wave. "Zarina, this is Oliver. My roommate."
"Hi," Oliver greeted awkwardly. "Nice to meet you."
"You- you too," I smiled politely. Dana jogged over to us and gave me a questioning look.
"Boyfriend?" she looked pointedly at Stiles and I nodded. "Great. Hi, I'm Dana." She took Stiles' hand and he shook it, smiling slightly.
"Stiles." The four of us went silent until Oliver coughed.
"Well, that was sufficiently awkward," he remarked and I rolled my eyes. "Anyways, as I was saying before. That's Gary," he pointed to a man with an afro. "Thinks he's Jesus Christ. Dan," he pointed to another guy with long hair. "Also Jesus. That's Mary." He gestured to an African American woman sitting down.
"Mary Magdalene?" Stiles finished for him.
"No, she also thinks she's Jesus," Oliver corrected, leading the three of us back to the room with the telephone. "You'd be surprised how many Jesus' we get."
"Not really," I replied slowly, sharing an amused glance with Dana.
"Hey, how come you want to use the phone already?" Oliver asked Stiles, who was glancing around uncomfortably. I looked up at him and he squeezed my hand softly.
"Because after one night, I've changed my mind about this place being safe for me or anyone. Ever," he replied. My brow furrowed, but I didn't question him.
"You're wrong," the woman at the phone was saying. "I really think I should tell them. They're going to want to know the story. The whole story." Stiles' head snapped to her and I followed his gaze curiously. "I really think they should know. Yes, I do. One of them is standing right behind me."
My eyes went wide as I stared at the woman, letting my gaze fall on Stiles, who looked completely shocked at her words. What did she mean by that? Then, the woman hung up the phone and brushed past us as if nothing had happened.
"Who was that?" I asked quietly, but was ignored as Stiles dragged me into the room, letting go of my hand to put the phone to his ear.
"That's Meredith," Dana told me, looking over her shoulder. "She's a little weird."
"No, Oliver's a little weird," Stiles argued. "She's a lot weird."
He started to push down on one of the metal buttons on the phone to get a signal, and after a few tries, he took the phone away from his ear.
"It's dead," he announced.
"Yeah," Oliver told him with a 'duh' tone of voice. "They turn off the phone 24 hours after a suicide."
"Why didn't you tell me that before?" Stiles questioned, breathing out harshly.
"Why didn't you ask?" Oliver shot back.
With a huff, Stiles placed the phone back onto the machine and started walking away, the three of us hurrying to keep up with him.
"What are you planning to do now?" I looked at him pleadingly.
"We're getting out of this nuthouse," he told me firmly and I pursed my lips.
"That's not really an appropriate way to describe a facility like this," Dana tried to counter, but Stiles was busy looking at something else.
He nudged me and I looked up at what he saw. He was looking at the back of a head with curly, brown hair that looked vaguely familiar.
"Malia?" the two of us walked up to her, leaving our roommates behind. She turned, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Hey. Stiles and Zarina. Do you remember us? We're friends with Scott."
"Remember?" I added. "We were the ones who helped you-"
She promptly proceeded to slam her knee into my stomach, the air knocking out of my lungs as I keeled over, falling onto my knees, gasping. She then punched Stiles, who fell to the ground beside me and guards came instantly.
"Hey, Malia!" one of them grabbed her as she struggled.
Two of the guards held our wrists together behind our backs and pinned the two of us to the ground, pressing our faces against a tile with circular pieces of glass in it; enough for us to see through.
"She's the one who hit us!" Stiles fought against their grip, but they didn't let up.
"More like this Malia and you're headed to the closed unit," the guard restraining her threatened.
"Okay, w-wait stop, we didn't do anything," Stiles cried out as we were pushed harder onto the floor. Another guard helped the first one drag Malia away. "Hey, stop!"
I saw Stiles lift his head slightly, eyes wide as he looked down into the holes in the floor. I coughed as I tried to regain my breath, looking down into the glass circles as well.
Underneath us, there was a strange looking basement. There was a big metal barrel in the middle of the room and I glanced back at Stiles to see recognition in his features.
"Enough," Morrell pushed through the crowd. "Enough." She looked at the guards holding us down and they let us go. I got to my knees and put a hand on Stiles' shoulder as he continued to look down at the basement.
"Stiles," Morrell knelt in front of him. "You saw something, didn't you?"
"The basement," he replied shakily. "I've been down there before."
I was sitting between Stiles and Dana in a circle of patients, Morrell leading the session. My hand was holding Stiles', though his leg kept bouncing nervously as he looked down at his lap.
Malia was there too, arms and legs crossed as she glowered at the two of us. I held back the urge to roll my eyes at her ungratefulness.
"I want to go back to the topic of guilt today," Morrell was saying. "It might surprise you to hear me say guilt is a good thing. It's a rather mature emotion. Malia, you said something about guilt the other day. Said it came with a visceral reaction."
"I said it made me feel sick to my stomach," Malia told us. Oliver began to cough loudly beside Stiles and I gave him a worried glance.
"Guilt often becomes physical," Morrell continued. "You feel it in your gut. It's not just psychological."
Stiles looked over his shoulder and I did the same, breathing harshly as it came into view. The nogitsune, dressed in doctor's garb, was talking to a specialist as if it were just another person, not a demonic spirit. It turned its head to us and we looked away sharply, sharing a scared look.
"You saw it too?" Stiles mouthed and I nodded, lip trembling.
"How does guilt make you feel, Stiles?" Marin looked at him.
"I'm sorry, what?" he leaned forward slightly, gripping my hand.
"Guilt," she repeated. "What does it make you feel?"
"Nervous," he replied.
"Like a sense of urgency?" He nodded lightly. "You feel an urgent need to make up for something you've done. To apologize."
From the corner of my eye, I saw the nogitsune get closer to us and I couldn't stop the tiny sob that escaped my throat, but no one noticed. Stiles seemed to see the nogitsune too because his entire body went went rigid.
Our hands held the others' so tightly that I thought we were going to break our bones.
"These are healthy responses," the psychologist finished, but I barely heard her, biting my lip to contain my sounds of fear. "Does anyone know what we call someone who doesn't experience guilt?"
"Sociopath?" Oliver raised his hand slightly and she nodded.
"That's right Oliver." Stiles started to rub his neck and I fidgeted in my seat, eager to leave. Morrell noticed this, eyes locking on the red veins in his neck. "I'm sorry, everyone, but we need to take a break."
Stiles and I looked up at her as she got up from her seat, walking towards us. "Come with me, Stiles. You too, Zarina. I'd like to talk to you two for a minute."
We followed her down the hall and into her office. I let go of Stiles' hand as she instructed him to lift the back of his shirt, which he did. I stood beside her and ran my fingers over the network of red veins that were coming from a patch near his shoulder blade.
"It's called a Lichtenburg Figure," she explained as my eyes traced the lines. "They appear in lightening strike victims." Stiles roughly tugged down his shirt and looked at her. "The fact that they're appearing on you after a shot of wolf lichen is both significant and strange."
"By significant and strange, do you mean hopeful and optimistic?" he questioned, punching the air lamely.
"When the marks fade," she looked down at two bottles in her hand. "The nogitsune's grip over you will return." She shut the cabinet she had gotten them from and walked back to us, handing Stiles an orange bottle for pills.
"What are these, sleeping pills?" he looked at them.
"Amphetamines. Sleeping is exactly what you don't want to do," she explained. "You're vulnerable when you're asleep."
"So all I have to do is stay awake."
"For now," she agreed. "If your friends haven't figured out something by the time those marks are gone, I'll come find you."
"To tell me what to do?" he offered.
"No, to give you an injection," she corrected without a beat. "Pancuronium bromide. It causes respiratory paralysis."
"That sounds a lot like killing him," I pitched in, incredulous.
"It's used for lethal injection, yes," she nodded.
"So when the nogitsune takes over, you're gonna kill him? No- no way," I argued, fists clenching at my sides.
"I'm going to do what I've always done," she retorted calmly "Maintain the balance."
"Okay then, missed our talks," Stiles began walking away. "Thanks for the illicit drugs." I went to follow him, but her voice stopped me.
"Zarina, I have something to ask you." We both stopped. "Alone."
Stiles looked back at me and I gave him a reassuring smile. He hesitated before leaving the room and shutting the door, though I was sure he was still listening in on our conversation. I turned to the druid, eyebrow raised.
"What do you need?" I asked.
"You're seeing it too, aren't you? The nogitsune. It's playing tricks on you," she deadpanned.
"Yeah, so? I'm not the one being possessed here," I shot back.
"But simply the fact that you're in its sights is dangerous. You need to be careful too. Like I said, it's been playing tricks on you."
"Sure, I'll be careful, but Stiles needs help more than I do right now," I finished firmly before turning on my heel and walking out of the room.
Stiles was leaning against the wall next to the door nonchalantly when I got out, looking as pale and worried as ever.
"Follow me," he looked down at me, grasping my hand. "There's something I need to check out."
AN: Wow I feel good about this chapter. Please let me know your reactions in the reviews! Means a lot. (:
Sorry for taking so long to update, it's bee a long week. Like super long. Sigh. But ya'll are still supporting and being fabulous so I owe you all very much. Hope this chapter didn't disappoint!
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xx.