Chapter 2

There was nothing left to do

When the butterflies turned to dust

That covered my whole room

Breakfast was a bit depressing. For the first twenty-four hours, he had to eat upstairs by himself in the dayroom. Well, not by himself. There was another tray beside Eric's seat with a name on it, but Eric didn't know who it belonged to. He looked at the name, but couldn't read the hand writing.

Eric didn't feel like eating, but he knew it was healthy to eat so he did. Breakfast consisted of two small waffles, one slice of buttered bread, and eggs. It wasn't enough to fill him up, but it was something.

He had only had his eggs finished when a young skinny man by the name of Alan stepped into the room and sat beside Eric. He said nothing as he stared at his tray. It was quiet for a couple of minutes until Eric decided to try to start conversation. Try.

"Where are you from?" The Scotsman asked gently and cautiously, not knowing if the brunette would want to talk about his home. Eric came from a not-so-good home and he didn't know what Alan's home life was like.

Alan didn't even look up at the blonde, he continued to mumble to himself, a look of fear in his eyes. Eric wondered if there was a traumatic event in the brunette's life that he hasn't let go of or if it was recent. He wondered how long Alan had been in the facility. Days? Weeks? He didn't know, but he was curious. He also wondered why the brunette wasn't eating; perhaps that's why he was so skinny.

"Your name's Alan, right?" The blonde asked, wanting to kill the awkward silence.

The smaller male looked up at the larger, the fear in his eyes didn't go away, "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"What they said."

"What…who said?"

"The voices. You know." Alan tapped the temple of his head with his finger. After seeing Eric's confused expression, his expression went from fearful to sad, and his voice became a bit more quiet. "You don't hear them?"

Eric was quiet, not knowing what to say. He studied almost every mental disorder in the book, but he never really paid attention to schizophrenia. He didn't want to lie, but he didn't want to make Alan sad or make him feel like he was crazy, which most people probably said he was to his face. Eric didn't have time to really think about it, so he just decided to avoid the question. "What did the voices say?"

"Is it true I'm possessed?" Alan asked quietly and with sadness in his voice.

Eric tried to think about that, but knew Alan was looking for an answer now, so he tried to answer the best he could without answering yes or no. "I don't think you're possessed. I think you just have some issues you have to deal with and the people here are going to help you."

The sad look on Alan's face turned to one of happiness and trust, Eric realized immediately that Alan had a very nice smile and he wanted to see more of it. Then again, every time anyone smiled, it lifted Eric's mood a bit.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

The brunette sat back in his seat, relaxing a bit before looking back at Eric. "I know you're an angel."

Crap. That isn't what Eric wanted.

Eric was speechless. "Um…"

"I know you were sent here to help me."

The blonde scratched the back of his neck, unsure of what to really say. He couldn't lead Alan on into thinking he was an angel sent to help Alan, but at the same time, he couldn't break Alan's heart. "I don't think I'm an angel, Alan."

"Of course you are."

"No, Alan. I'm really not." Alan's smile faded. "I'm sorry. Why don't you eat your food? Can you do that for me?"

Alan nod his head and smiled before digging into his food, he was a surprisingly fast eater and was able to finish everything within two minutes. When he was done, he looked at Eric with a small smile and said "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Thank you."

"…You're welcome."

The brunette smiled, kicking his short legs a bit before getting up and leaving the room. Eric guessed he was going to his room since there isn't anywhere else he can go. As he left, the other adults came in the room which only consisted of William and Ronald. Eric hasn't met Grell yet, he wondered if she was still getting the ECT.

"We got sausages," Ronald bragged to Eric. "and they were bloody good."

"You got sausages!?" Eric asked in disbelief then smiled, more so smirked, "Too bad for you lass, we got bread cut in half with some butter on it."

That made Ronald laugh. "Look out, we got a smartass!" Eric laughed in return, William rolled his eyes pulling two apples. Ronald looked at him like he was crazy. "You snuck food?"

"Grell wasn't at breakfast, she needs to eat too."

"How are you planning on getting that to her?"

William rolled his eyes and fixed his glasses then left the room. Eric guessed he was going to Grell's room, which was against the rules.

Ronald cringed and then scratched the back of his neck. "'Hope the old man doesn't get in trouble. He tends to get angry when a rude staff member confronts him."

"So he doesn't like confrontation." Eric spoke.

"Nah, that's not it, he just doesn't like being talked to like a child. He isn't good with yelling either, he gets violent."

"Is he here because he needs anger management?"

"Kind of. He's mainly here because of suicidal thoughts and actions. He comes from a rich family and he has a lot of stress trying to follow in his dad's footsteps, he didn't really have a childhood either."

"Damn."

"He doesn't like to talk about it though."

Eric didn't blame him. He could see all of the emotional problems that came from not having a childhood, and having to grow up too fast. He, himself, didn't have too good of a childhood. Eric couldn't name one good memory he had of his childhood. His parents went through a violent divorce when he was five, his sister died when he was nine, and his father abused him. He didn't really think he would be alive for this long.

What about Alan? What was his childhood like? It probably wasn't a good one. He could see people giving the brunette a lot of crap for his schizophrenia, he was probably bullied non-stop. It wasn't Alan's fault though and Eric knew this. He was going to have to watch what he said around Alan.

"What are you here for?" Eric asked after a long moment of silence. "You don't have to answer that."

"You're fine, mate." Ronald smiled. "I'm an alcoholic, and a drug addict. I'm also depressed and suicidal. My dad abused me and my mom, then left us when I was seven."

Eric was quiet. Maybe that wasn't something he should ask. "Sorry 'bout that."

"You're fine."

"What about Grell?"

"Grell-"

"Is here for suicidal thoughts and actions." William cut in. Eric hadn't even noticed him step into the room. "She is a cutter, and tries to control herself, it's difficult for her. She will find any way to harm herself, so she has to be monitored at all times which is why you haven't met her yet. She isn't allowed in the dayroom unless she is accompanied by a staff member, and she has to spend most of her time in the quiet room."

Eric nodded once, knowing what the quiet room was. He was shown what it was last time he was here; it wasn't really somewhere he wanted to be. The quiet room was a soundproof room with four plain walls and a floor where patients had to go when they got violent or if they just had to scream and go into a fit.

No matter what was said, Eric's mind always went back to Alan. How would Alan deal with being isolated in such a depressing room? Did Alan ever have to be sent to the quiet room? If so, what was the reason? Was he forced to go, or did he suggest he go? Did it help him at all?

Even though the others didn't want to have anything to do with Alan, maybe they knew why he was here. Surely Alan has dealt with schizophrenia for most of his life, why is he just now coming here at age eighteen? How long has he been here? A week, maybe two? Perhaps he had been here more than once or been to multiple facilities.

Eric decided to push his luck, "Alan?"

William and Ronald were quiet at first, Ronald looking at the floor and William just not wanting to answer.

"Alan is here for schizophrenia." William answered, "Is there anything else you need to know about him?"

"Yeah. Why is he just now getting help? Hasn't he had schizophrenia for a while now?"

William only seemed to get more annoyed at the Scotsman. "He has been in and out of multiple facilities, his schizophrenia has only gotten worse over the years. His father died of a brain tumor, nobody knows what happened to his mother, but nobody visits him. He has a sister who brought him here. He thinks I'm his angel, and he thinks Ronald is his twin, and he refuses to eat. Is there anything else you need to know?"

Eric didn't know what to say. He didn't know Alan's schizophrenia was so bad he truly thought William was his angel and Ronald was his twin. Ronald and Alan didn't even look alike in Eric's mind; there were so many physical differences between them.

He shook his head and left the room, figuring he was done being talked to by someone with a stick up their ass. He wanted to go outside but he wasn't at the right level to where he could go outside.

The hospital had levels. 3, 2, 1 and A, B, C. Well, Just A and B. Basically, the ones get to go outside, the twos get to eat downstairs, the threes don't get any freedom. The letters show how well your behavior is. The closer to A, the better you were behaving. The levels are all recorded on a chart in the dayroom and a chart at the end of the adult unit. The one in the dayroom isn't very reliable, the one at the end of the hall is what patients and staff usually check. Right now, Eric was a 3B, but that was because he was a new patient. He should be a 1A in three or four days.

On his way back to his room he saw Alan standing in his doorway, and so he decided to stop and say hi even though it was against the rules to talk in the hallways. As he approached Alan, he saw that Alan looked very fidgety. It looked like he was trying to leave his room, but there was an invisible wall keeping him from doing so, or something pulling him back.

"Hey, Al. What're you up to?" he asked, trying to keep his voice quiet, so no one would hear them.

Alan's voice in return was quiet in return, "They won't let me leave."

"Do you want to leave?" Alan nodded in response and Eric held out his hand. "Take my hand and I'll help you."

Alan looked at Eric for what seemed like forever before shaking his head and stepping back. "They won't let me leave." He repeated before shutting his door in Eric's face.

The Scotsman sighed then went to his room, laying down in his bed and staring at the ceiling. The pillow wasn't too comfortable seeing as it was made of rubber, but he was able to go to sleep thinking about the brunette in the other room.