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BEHOLD MY TRIUMPHANT RETURN... Well... Sort of.
So yeah anyways I'm back! And I've actually started writing this story again. As usual I won't be sticking to any schedule (sorry) and I can't promise I won't drop off the face of the earth again (again.. sorry). But until then enjoy the story and please keep in mind that beyond this point you are entering a story based on a FICTIONAL and DRAMATISED version of a psychiatric ward so I will kindly request no distasteful messages about my portrayal of a psychiatric facility.
The following days, or at least what felt like days Gaara slowly felt himself becoming well again. Unsure of whether he should feel relieved or disgusted by this fact he settled on cautious, for while he'd never openly say it, this place was beginning to seem progressively more frightening. The only time he found any comfort was when he was visited by the dark haired intern, Hinata. In an attempt to divert his thoughts he often found himself fantasising about what it would be like to have known her outside of this setting, though this cosy construct was forever being interrupted by the endless stream of small plates of utterly tasteless food, various medications the names of which he hadn't paid an ounce of attention to and the overly friendly Kabuto telling him once again that a place in the psych ward was not yet available. For all the trouble Gaara was, however, able to take solace is regaining the use of his hands more permanently, the luring threat of restraints was taken away once he had lost the energy to fight the nurses. He had accepted his fate, he was to stay here until Dr Kabuto was satisfied that he would not be seeing him in the emergency room again the following week.
I could never be sure if it was night when the lights went out. With no windows, no clock I could never be sure of the time. All I really knew was that I hated the guy standing outside my door. What the hell was he? Another nurse? Some kind of security guard? Either way the guy annoyed me to no end, preaching about morality and honour in the hallway. Importance of family; all that shit.
Another patient read my mind at one point, just as I was starting to believe there weren't any other patients in this ghost town of a ward, the guy then started going on about how he lost his brother. Killed by the police he said. Falsely accused he said. The more he went on the more I couldn't help but think to myself 'and I'm the crazy one here'. This guy was clearly not fit to be guarding anyone, just another self-righteous ass looking to redeem some pointless blight on his name. But I couldn't help but remember a story I'd read in the paper a few years back about a guy killed in a shootout with police after being accused of killing his parents. Itachi something-or-other
Eventually, after what had felt like a lifetime, Kabuto appeared once again in Gaara's prison-like-room with two orderlies and off-putting expression of excitement ; "A place as finally opened up for you Gaara" he said cooly. One of the orderlies produced a wheelchair from the hallway, "Now, please take a seat and we'll be off". Gaara couldn't hide his expression of utter disappointment, 'they won't even grant me the dignity of walking to my new prison' he thought to himself. He sighed, unwilling to go through the fighting and struggling he had when he first arrived, he sat down in the chair and was wheeled down the corridor to and elevator. Gaara, Kabuto and the two orderlies rode up to the second floor of the building, a light chiming sound told them they had reached the psychiatric floor, that and the large sign hanging from the ceiling as the elevator doors slid open silently. 'Wow' thought Gaara 'a whole floor just for the crazies'. The thought of spending the next three days in here made him queasy with anxiety.
Beneath the "Psychiatric Ward" sign, Gaara noticed the two arrows pointing left and right. To the right read 'Ward A', to the left 'Ward B'. Kabuto never missing a beat noticed Gaara's scrutinising and was quick to provide an explanation "Ward A is a rehabilitation facility, state of the art. A bit pricey, some would argue, but you can't argue with our results".
So basically it's a ward for all the rich drug addicts to come in and be pronounced 'cured' so they can go on talk shows, tear up about the horrors of addiction, continue their indulgent lifestyle and wind up right back here. Yeah, really state of the art business you're running there. "And what about Ward B?"
"Ward B is for patients considered to be a danger to themselves or others, and those who needs round the clock supervision"
Gaara sighed again, "I think I can guess where I'm going."
Kabuto chuckled slightly "Don't take it personally, being on suicide watch means round the clock supervision, who knows, perhaps you'll be better for the experience. Some of the patients here are very interesting people. You may even make some friends." He smiled.
Interesting huh? I doubt I'll be making friends with any of these crazies in three days.
After exiting the elevator Gaara was relieved to find he was now allowed to walk, after being bedridden for so long it took him a moment to gain his balance and find his footing. He savoured the feeling for as long and he could before they reached the two frosted glass doors leading into Ward B. The two silent orderlies moved to open the large doors. Gaara let his fingers run along the glass as they entered. "Thick" He thought "probably bullet proof glass" His chest tightened again as he walked inside. The room appeared to be a sort of 'common room' with a few scattered tables apparently bolted to the floor and some old, tattered looking lounges. Some the patients walked aimlessly about the room, some played cards or a board game at the worn out old tables, one particularly irritable patient argued with a nurse about the invasion of mind controlling parasites as he furiously scratched at his shirt. He was soon blocked from view by the two orderlies who had sprung into action upon seeing the altercation and escorted the delusional old man into another room.
Further scanning the room he noticed another cluster of patients gathered around a hole-in-the-wall counter also covered by what appeared to be bullet proof class. Above the counter read "Reception and Medicine Distribution". Behind the glass he could see two nurses eagerly chatting, pausing every so often to call out "NEXT" and hand another patient a tiny paper cup of pills and a larger paper cup of water. The one thing Gaara had noticed is that not a single patient had so much as glanced upward and yet he still felt the eerie sensation that he was being watched. Then he caught, out of the corner of his eye, the thing causing his distress. In the far corner of the room sat a young man, only slightly older than Gaara was. He appeared to be playing with a marionette, how on earth he'd been allowed to have string was beyond Gaara but that wasn't what bothered him. The marionette was very specifically posed, standing up right, unmoving, staring directly at Gaara.
Sooooooo yeah, that's chapter three also known as "sudden burst of inspiration". Reviews are always greatly appreciated, flaming and general nastiness without cause is super lame and seriously why would you even bother... Seriously, just don't do it. Thank you to the people returning to this story after I abandoned you and thank you in advance to those who stick with me on this one :)
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