Sorry, Charlie

by CHOOSELIFE

Third story in the Charlie series. This story picks up two and a half years after Drake's last overdose. Ricardo has forced him to clean up his act, but still Drake can't seem to get away from his past. Everyday is a fight to stay clean and now that he doesn't have his favorite red pills, his depression and anxiety are just as hard to kick as his drug addiction.

11. Crazy

(6 weeks later)

Ricardo pulled his car into an empty space and put it in park, then he turned off the ignition and sat back in his seat. He looked at the boy sitting next to him. "You ready?"

Drake said nothing. He was clearly nervous, his friend noticed, but that was to be expected, he supposed. He glanced at the building for a moment, then pointed his eyes down to his lap

"Drake?"

"Do I have to do this?"

"Dr. Mydo insisted that it would be a good idea."

After being transferred to the regular ward, Drake was reunited with his normal doctor, who had cared for him a majority of the times he had been admitted to the hospital in the last three years. He remembered Drake due to the severity of some of his cases and always seemed to offer the best care. Therefore, Ricardo held his opinion in the highest regards.

"I really don't wanna do this."

"It won't be long. They're just gonna help you get better, Drake. You really need some help. We can't have you trying to hurt yourself again, right?"

"I promise I won't," he said. Drake was an adult and could make his own choices. He could say no. He could refuse, but Ricardo wanted him to do this and he didn't want to disappoint him. He owed him.

"I can't make you do anything. It's your choice, but I really think you should go."

Where was it that he wanted him to go? The Wood Lake Behavioral Health Center. This was just a fancy term for mental hospital or nut house or loony bin or funny farm. He'd been here once before when he was thirteen and his mom had found out that he'd cut himself. It had been a one-time thing. He'd just wanted to know what it was like and she'd freaked out. That was eight years ago and he'd hated it. He never wanted to go back, which is why he'd hidden his emotions for so long and probably part of why he started using drugs in the first place.

Drake knew that if he admitted himself, then he'd be here for at least a week. That's how long he'd stayed when he was younger. The divorce was fresh, the abuse was fresh, he had just hit puberty and had tons of unknown hormonal shit going on, and his mom had locked him in here. This place had only made things worse. That was a very dark time for him and he didn't often think about it.

Ricardo frowned when his friend started crying. "Drake..."

"I know. It's okay. Just give me a second." He wiped the water away from his eyes and sniffled. "Fuck." He didn't wanted to cry and he hated himself for doing it.

"It won't be forever," the man tried, "and you can call us everyday and we'll come every visitation day."

Drake sniffled again, then he wiped his eyes with his jacket sleeves. "Lemme just smoke first." He grabbed his pack of cigarettes and lighter out of the cubby underneath the radio and got out of the car. He closed the door and lit the cigarette with shaky hands as he inhaled. Smoke filled up his lungs. As he slowly let go of his breath, he slid his back against the metal door until he was squatting.

Not long after, Ricardo got out of the car and joined him. He didn't say anything. He just sat down on the concrete next to him and he didn't argue when Drake lit his second cigarette, then his third.

"Okay, I'm ready," the boy said nervously. He pushed himself up, but before he could walk inside, Ricardo stopped him.

"Hey, I'm proud of you."

Drake gave him a tiny smile, but he couldn't hide his worry.

"Everything's gonna be fine. Just focus on getting better, okay? Please. I just want you to be okay."

"I will."

Ricardo rubbed the boy's bicep for support, then started walking with him inside the building.

---

"Drake?" The lady wore a kind smile. "You can come on back now."

He'd been sitting in the empty waiting room for hours. He had no idea why it had taken so long and the anticipation made him nervous. He and Ricardo peeled themselves off the couch, both hesitant, and walked over to her. She stood in front of two menacing metal doors.

"Non-patients and workers aren't permitted past this point. If you haven't already, now's the time to say your goodbyes."

When Drake was younger, he remembered being told something similar. The employee had asked him if he wanted to give his mother a hug and he'd said no. That's because he had no idea that he was going to be kept longer than one night. He wasn't going to make that mistake again, so he wrapped his arms around his friend, which Ricardo hadn't expected. He knew that Drake was a little nervous, but even still, he was surprised when he felt him shaking a bit.

"You'll be fine." He hugged back. "I know it sucks, but I'm so proud of you for doing this."

Drake took comfort in the older man's embrace, but he knew he couldn't stay there forever. When he pulled away, he gave his friend an assuring smile to let him know that he'd be alright although it wasn't too convincing.

"I just have to go over you with this," the orderly said as she held up a metal detector. "Just a precaution to make sure you're not sneaking anything in."

Drake had to hold his arms out next to him as she hovered the device over every inch of his body. When that was done, she pressed a button on a keypad and scanned her card. After a moment, someone opened the doors and the boy looked at Ricardo one last time.

This time, he offered the assuring smile. "You'll be fine."

Drake followed her back and the doors closed behind him. They took a right and there was another set of double doors. Again, the lady pressed a button, scanned her card and waited for someone to open the doors. There were more doors immediately to his left. Looking through the glass, he could see a couple teenagers and the next room he passed had little children who looked to be as young as seven or eight. Jesus..., he thought, pausing shortly to ponder why they would be here before his own problems and anxieties returned to him.

"Here we are," his guide said as she approached the last set of double doors on the left.

She went through the process of opening them again and being so securely locked away was beginning to make Drake feel claustrophobic. As he entered, another lady came around the counter of the nurses' station to greet them.

"This is Drake," the one he was with introduced. "Drake, this is Cassandra. She's gonna get you set up and show you around. I'm gonna let her take over for now. Good luck." She offered a smile before she left out the doors she came through.

"Hi, Drake. It's nice to meet you. How old are you?"

Instead of meeting her eyes, he was anxiously looking around the room full of people, some of which were looking back at him. "Twenty-one," he answered quietly.

"Have you ever been to a place like this before?" She knew the answers to the questions she was asking because she had his file, but she was trying to open a dialogue.

"Once, when I was little."

"So you're probably familiar with some of our protocols. I'll go over them with you still to refresh your memory. First, do you have anything on you like jewelry, a watch, keys, belt? Anything like that?"

"Just a belt," he said, for they had already told him some of the things he should probably leave behind with Ricardo, like his phone.

"You're gonna have to remove that. It's a safety precaution. Patients aren't permitted to wear belts, as well as shoestrings. Also, either you'll have to remove the string from your jacket or we can keep it in the back until you leave."

Drake wasn't sure that he wanted to go without his jacket. It was his only form of security at the moment. Therefore, he grabbed one end of the string that was used to tighten the hood and started pulling it out. He passed that to her, then sat down in a nearby chair that she motioned towards and started removing his shoelaces. He was sitting at a table where two others were sitting — one guy and one girl — working on a complicated-looking puzzle. Both were around Drake's age and the girl was staring at him intensely, watching his every move.

"I'm Misty," she said suddenly in a voice so bubbly that it was almost annoying. She had on a hot pink top with tight blue jeans and her hair was in a messy bun atop her head.

"Drake," he said back, but he was much quieter than she was.

"This is Theo."

Theo looked up from the puzzle and gave him a small smile. He wore black clothing from head to toe and his hair was black to match. Drake liked him already because he immediately put his focus back on his puzzle and left him alone.

"How much longer until our smoke break?" the girl asked.

"Right after lunch," said Cassandra, "which will be in about five minutes."

"There're smoke breaks?" Drake asked.

"Yes," the nurse answered. "Five per day, but you can also smoke during recess. You wake up at six, get your vitals checked, shower, get ready for your day. The first smoke break is at seven and there's one every three hours."

This made him feel better. He slipped his shoes back on and immediately noticed how loose they were on his feet. When he lifted his foot, it almost slid right out of the shoe.

Cassandra noticed this. "We have Velcro straps in the back. I'll grab some for you when I take these back." She took the shoestrings from the boy.

Lastly, he stood and started unbuckling his belt and sliding it through the loops.

"Whoo!" Misty cheered. "Take it off!"

"Misty, that kind of speech isn't allowed here," the nurse reprimanded. She accepted the belt when it was handed to her, then said, "Follow me." After that, she told Drake to wait by the counter of the nurses' station until she returned. When she did, she carried two Velcro straps. "You just wrap these around your shoes."

He took them, then did just that. Maybe he was just stupid or something because his shoes still weren't tight. He'll just remove them when she showed him his room and go barefoot. Theo was barefoot and Drake noticed others were, too.

"So the cafeteria is down that hallway. Remember where you first came in through those double doors? Well, it's just like that, except you take a left instead of a right. The gym is down that way as well. You probably remember. I think it was the same eight years ago."

He did.

"Lunch is in a few minutes, but all our new patients are on unit restriction until they meet with their doctor first. I'll bring your food and we have activities you can do while everyone else is at recess. We will allow you to go out for smoke breaks, though, if you smoke. This is the nurses' station. When you need your hygiene products — comb, toothbrush, shampoo — you have to ask for them. You can't keep them in your room. You'll see some new faces behind here tomorrow. The nurses change shifts over night, but don't worry. We're all friendly," she said. "If you want to make a phone call, the phone is right there on the end of the counter, but you must ask first. The phone, like most everything else, is considered a privilege. We need to see good behavior if you want to use it. The same applies for smoke breaks, recess, gym time and eating with everyone in the cafeteria."

The place was actually rather small and there weren't many patients either. There were Theo and Misty, who probably stuck together due to their closeness in age, then there were eight others — six females and two males — who ranged in their late thirties to early sixties. They all sat in a room, which wasn't filled with much. There was the table the two youngest were at, then one more that was right in front of the television, which hung high up on the wall. To the right of the tv was a large glass window with a door — locked, no doubt — that led to the recess area. It was basically a large slab of concrete with a basketball goal surrounded by an obnoxiously tall, wooden fence. Cassandra talked about it as he observed.

Over on the right wall was a line of chairs. There was a woman sitting in the chair closest to the glass so that the sun could warm her. It was pretty chilly here, Drake noticed. Further down the line of chairs were two other women, both talking like best friends who had just ran into one another at the grocery store.

"This here is the bathroom," Cassandra said, pulling his attention in another direction. She was standing next to a door across from the glass window, near the nurses' station. "You're gonna have to get one of us to unlock it when you need to go." She then pointed to a room she had passed, which was in between the bathroom and the nurse area. "Someone's gonna come in tomorrow morning to get some blood work done on you and ask you a couple questions — just the standard stuff." She moved on to the next door. "This is our group therapy room. Everyone will be meeting here twice a day for discussions and activities. You still with me so far?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said meekly. He had his hands hidden within the sleeves of his jacket and his arms were wrapped around his torso in a standoffish way.

"Great."

The large room closed into a long hallway that had doors on both sides the whole way down. She pointed to the first one on the right.

"This is another group room, but we don't use it much. When you meet with your doctor tomorrow, she'll probably talk to you in here or in the other group room. Which doctor were you assigned?"

He'd been here before, so he knew to show her his bracelet. It was like a hospital band, but it wasn't a regular hospital band; it was a mental hospital band.

"Dr. Wallace. She's great," Cassandra said, but Drake was sure she said this about all the workers. "So she'll come in anywhere between eleven-thirty and one tomorrow. You're not her only patient, so just hang out in the common area with everyone until she calls you in. You'll have a lot of downtime here. That's a great time to spend reflecting."

Drake nodded absently because it looked like she wanted some sort of response to know that he was listening.

"The rest of these rooms are bedrooms," she said as she led him down the hall. "Men on the left, women on the right. You're not allowed to go in each other's rooms and they're only for sleeping in. From six to ten, you'll be in the common area and other places throughout the hospital. No one is allowed to stay in the rooms during the day. If you need something you've forgotten, someone will accompany you so that you can retrieve it. Lights out at ten." She grabbed a handle and pushed down on it to open the door to room 12. "This is your room."

The first thing he saw was a bathroom to his right, but instead of a door, there was only a curtain. There were two beds in the room, both on two different walls with a tall window in between. At the foot of one bed was a desk, which she explained was a place to sit for journaling and things such as that. It seemed pretty pointless considering that they weren't allowed in the room during the day time. At the foot of the other bed was the small walkway that led to the door. This bed was taken because it had obviously been slept in. Plus, there was a brown paper bag next to the wall that seemed to be packed with clothes.

"You'll be bunking with Marcus. He's the man who wore eyeglasses."

Drake had been hoping for Theo because he seemed to mind his own business, but maybe Marcus would be just the same.

"I think that about does it for the tour. Do you have any questions?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, well, if you think of something, feel free to ask me or any of the other nurses, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Great. Let's head on back into the common room."

As they went, the other patients were lined up and being led out the double doors to the cafeteria. Drake was relieved to have some time alone.

"You can hang out in here. I'll turn on the tv and grab you a dinner. Today, we have a choice between chicken tenders and lasagna. Which do you prefer?"

He wasn't hungry due to his nerves, but he went ahead and said, "Chicken tenders."

"We've got tea, lemonade and water."

He chose water.

"Okay, I'll grab that for you." She glanced at the nurses' station when she heard a clack, which was another nurse noisily placing a small plastic cup on the counter as a reminder. "And while I'm doing that, we're gonna need a urine sample from you." She grabbed the cup and passed it to him. "I can grab a cup for you to fill up at the water fountain, or do you think you're ready now?"

He'd been in the empty waiting room for close to four hours, but it just now occurred to him how much he really had to go. She unlocked the bathroom for him, but it wasn't actually a bathroom at all. It was a hallway.

"Oh, I almost forgot. At the end of the hall, there are a couple solitary confinement rooms, which we use if we feel like a patient is a danger to him- or herself or others or if someone is misbehaving. You wanna go take a look?"

"No." He said it so fast that she almost didn't get to finish her sentence. Again, Drake's nerves got the best of him and he started shaking. He wanted to go home already. Being back here was... It was too much.

"This door right here is the restroom." Cassandra pointed to the closest one.

Drake thanked her, then went inside. There was no lock on the door, but he didn't have time for that anyway. He hurried over to the toilet and got there just in time to hurl into it. Great. He didn't have his toothbrush yet. Ricardo brought his things in, but Drake knew they had to check though it before passing him his clothes. Hopefully, they wouldn't take too long.

The young man finished puking, pissed in the cup, then washed his hands and headed back out into the common room. He gave his urine sample to a nurse at the front desk, then washed up again at the sink they had in the corner on the opposite side of the tv as the glass window. Cassandra came in with his lunch around this time.

"Thanks." He took a seat at the table.

"What channel do you wanna watch?"

"Um..." He shrugged politely.

She put it on some race car thing that he really couldn't care less about, but he wasn't in the mood to watch tv anyway, so he didn't protest. Although his stomach was filled with butterflies, he knew that it had been a while since he'd eaten, so he picked up a chicken tender. Maybe this would settle his stomach.

Thirty minutes passed and he had only made it about halfway through his lunch, but he couldn't force himself to eat anymore or else he would get sick. He stood and tossed the Styrofoam tray into the trash, which a nurse took note of. Soon after that, the other patients returned from the cafeteria early. He wasn't really in the mood to converse at the moment, so he sat down in a chair away from everyone else. He wondered if one of the nurses was writing this down. Would isolating himself from the group and being antisocial keep him here longer?

Pretty soon, it was time for a smoke break. Misty approached the nurses' station to get her pack of cigarettes, along with two of the older women and the men as well, excluding Theo. Next, they lined up at the glass door near Drake.

"Hey, new guy," Misty kicked his foot with her shoeless one. "Want one?" She held up her pack of Newport menthols.

He went outside with her. Cassandra held the lighter and lit everyone's cigarettes. Drake followed Misty over to the brick wall of the building.

"Thank you," he said. "When they let me call my friend, I'll ask him to drop my cigarettes off and give you one back."

"Don't worry about it," she said. "You don't mind menthol, do you?"

He squatted down and rested his back against the wall. "No, I smoke menthols."

"So how'd you do it?" she asked suddenly.

"Um...what?" he replied with genuine confusion.

"How'd you try to kill yourself? That is what you're here for, right?" Misty pried. "I mean, it's clearly not the first time. I saw the scars on your wrists when you were tying your shoes. Nice tattoos, by the way."

He subconsciously unrolled his sleeves so that they'd cover his arms fully.

"I tossed my sister's flat iron into the bath. Turns out the stupid thing didn't work. She walked in on me and freaked, so here I am."

"Shit."

"Yeah, so what about you?"

He didn't want to talk about it, but he felt like he couldn't leave her question unanswered because she gave him a cigarette. "Pills," he said vaguely.

"Ha! I knew it! Ernest!" she called and one of the older men turned her way. "You owe me something from the vending machine!" Back in her normal volume, she told Drake, "He guessed that you were gonna shoot yourself, but chickened out."

Drake didn't know what to say to that and he felt uncomfortable having his business yelled out for everyone to hear.

"Where'd you do it?"

He spoke quietly. "Truck stop bathroom."

"That's a new one."

He finally had the guts to say, "I don't really like to talk about it."

"Oh, yeah, no, totally. I get you, but you better get used to talking about it in group if you wanna get out of here. Otherwise, you'll be like Theo. He's almost been here for three weeks."

Three weeks?! "Fuck," Drake whispered on an exhale of smoke.

"They're probably gonna transfer him to a long-term hospital." Just like that, she was onto a new topic. "You're really hot."

"Um...thank you."

"Why would you possibly wanna kill yourself?"

Drake took a longer drag on the cigarette to give him time to think of a response. She was pretty hot herself, so he didn't understand her reasoning.

"Not that attractive people don't have problems, but, I mean...Jesus. It must be something really fucked up is all I'm saying."

"Why did you?" he asked, but he didn't really care. He just wanted her to stop giving him the first degree and he thought reciprocating the question would shut her up.

Her voice took on a more chill and somber tone, but she didn't quite sound sad. "I watched my little brother drown when I was nine.

He now regretted asking and genuinely felt guilty for getting so annoyed by her. "Shit, I'm sorry. I shouldn't've-"

"No, it's okay. I've been learning how to open up about it and I think it's really helped...somewhat." She paused. "Eh, it's a slow process. Anyway, your turn."

Why did he tried to kill himself? There were so many reasons. It didn't just feel like one thing. It was everything combined. It wasn't just Dahlia's infidelity; it wasn't just his drug addiction and guilt; it wasn't just a lifetime dealing with abuse. It was all of that put together, which overwhelmed him and made each thing feel a thousand times worse. He wasn't about to spill all of that, though.

He settled with, "I was tired of being sad."

"I get that."

---

After lunch was recess, but today they were going to the gymnasium instead of outside, so when the smoke break was over, everyone, with the exception of Drake, headed to the gym. During this time, the lone patient sat in one of the chairs against the wall. He had his heels in the chair and hid his head in his knees because he was sleepy. During this time, he was called up to the nurses' station and given a brown paper sack with his clothes. They told him they kept his hygiene products in a room and he could ask for them any time and his ears perked up when they also mentioned needing permission to get his cigarettes. Fucking Ricardo was the best. He always thinks of everything.

He was allowed to take his clothes to his room, then he went back to his chair in the corner and tried to nap. It wasn't long before the group was back. If today would've been a visitation day, family members would be piling into the room around this time, but that was tomorrow. Instead, this time was for activities. A male nurse, whose name tag read Samuel, went over to the cabinet at the opposite end of the line of chairs Drake was at and told the patients that they could pick out some board games. Misty jumped up first — no surprise there — and chose The Game Of Life. The two older men stuck to their cards and the women who had been talking like best friends earlier joined them. Everyone else played the board game except Drake, who remained in his chair until Samuel approached him.

"Why don't you join the others?" he said. "Mingle a little bit. Get to know some of your fellow patients."

The young man lifted his head. "No, thanks. I'm fine over here."

Samuel sat down in the chair next to him. "I get it. It's a new place and new people and it's a little scary. You came here to learn how to heal. To do that, you're gonna have to step out of your comfort zone a little bit." He went on when Drake said nothing. "You and Misty seemed to hit it off pretty well. Why don't you ask if you can join her game?"

Drake realized that this wasn't a suggestion, so he sighed and stood, then crossed the room. He approached the table cautiously and hid his hands inside of his sleeves as an attempt to shrink into his jacket out of nervous habit when the entire table turned to look at him. "Um, is it okay if I sit here?" he asked quietly.

"Sure!" Misty pulled out the chair for him. "This one's only for four players and Hero's gonna be the banker, but you can watch."

"Okay." He shrugged. He was honestly kind of glad that he didn't have to play.

As the game started, he followed along to please the nurses who were watching him, but his sleepiness overcame him and he rested his head on the palm of his hand. He hadn't realized that he'd dozed off until he heard his name.

"Drake," Theo, who was sitting across from him and also not playing, said for the third time, then he apologized for waking him. "Could you hand me that?" He pointed.

Drake looked and saw a light blue puzzle piece sticking out from underneath his elbow. "Shit, sorry." He passed it to him.

"Long day?"

"Yeah."

"It takes a minute to acclimate to their schedule. I like taking naps myself." He pointed to another piece that was on Drake's side of the table and the boy handed it to him.

The newbie squinted his eyes in thought. "Do I...I feel like...do I know you from somewhere?"

"High school."

"Oh, did we have a class together?"

"My locker was next to yours." He could see that the boy still didn't recognize him. "In ninth grade, you and your friends made up this rumor that my mom was a prostitute."

"Shit." Drake didn't know what to say. Teenagers are fucking evil. "I was such an asshole. I'm so sorry."

Theo just shrugged it off, but Drake couldn't let it go. Theo had been a loner and a loser, something Drake was now, so he felt empathy and guilt. The other boy saw this and spoke up.

"Really, don't even worry about it. It's just high school drama." Then he added, "Also, I was the one junior year who told everyone you were in jail for shooting up dope at the pep rally."

Drake actually remembered this rumor. He'd been absent from school for about a week due to a cruel punishment consisting of a good lashing and the basement. When he returned, everyone asked him about jail and they all believed it no matter what he said. This was the first of many embarrassing drug rumors that spread around school over the span of what was left of his eleventh and twelfth grade years. He eventually quit denying them junior year because everyone knew he was using and in senior year, he came back as a completely different person.

"That was you?"

Theo smiled proudly and Drake couldn't help but laugh at their childishness. "I didn't know it was gonna take off like that, though. Man, that one really grew some wings — probably because you were so popular. I mean, and you weren't helping anything either by taking pills and huffing inhalants every time you stopped at your locker."

"Yeah, I honestly have no idea how I didn't get caught." Sometimes, he wished he would've.

"Oh, and by the way, my mom's a stripper — not a prostitute."

Drake actually hadn't known this, but the coincidence made him chuckle. "Sorry, I'll be sure to get my facts straight next time."

"I'd appreciate that very much."

The new patient relaxed in his seat a bit and he didn't feel so nervous and antisocial anymore. "So did you ever go to college?"

"You ever get that record deal?" he retorted, but not in a rude way, as he fit another piece into the puzzle. "Real life sucks. They don't prepare you for that shit in high school. Can you pass me that? Thanks. No, but I did go, though — a couple times actually — but I just didn't have the motivation, I guess, to finish. I kept dropping out until I lost my financial aid. Life hits hard, you know? Then you wake up one day and realize you don't even know what it's all for."

It was a shame that Theo hadn't finished college. Besides Josh and Mindy, he had probably been the smartest person that Drake had known. Still, the young man could totally understand where he was coming from although he hadn't had nearly as much potential as Theo.

Drake changed the subject to something lighter. "How long have you been working on this puzzle?"

"About two and a half weeks."

"Shit," he said. "What's it supposed to be?"

"I don't know. I don't look at the box. I like it to be a surprise."

Drake studied it for a moment. The outer pieces all connected together to make a rectangle and there were some pieces put together on the inside. He saw some green and gray and flashes of color.

"I think it's a cat next to a Christmas tree."

"No way. It's definitely a toucan in the jungle."

"What about that yarn right there?"

"Don't be daft. That's clearly the worm he's about to eat."

"Do toucan's eat worms?"

"This one does."

Drake looked at the incomplete puzzle again and tried to see the image that Theo was seeing, but he couldn't. "All I'm saying is that you're gonna be real surprised when that worm turns into a ball of yarn."

---

"Everyone here?" Nurse Renee said.

Everyone was in the group room, surrounding the circular table. Theo was on Drake's right and the lady who had been trying to get warm earlier was on his left. He had his heels in his chair so that his knees were to his chest and he wrapped his arms around them and kept his head low.

"Okay, let's get started. I see two new faces here." She turned to one of the women, who had gotten here the night before Drake apparently. "Would you like to go ahead and introduce yourself?"

"My name is Lisa."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Renee."

Lisa was probably in her late forties. She had tan skin and wrinkles and short brown hair. Drake hadn't really noticed her talk a lot before, but he didn't think she was shy.

"You wanna tell us why you're here?" Renee asked.

"I guess I just kind of had a nervous breakdown. So much was happening in my life that I became overwhelmed. I finally just snapped." She continued because everyone stayed quiet. "My husband and I have been going through a tough time. Our daughter..." Her eyes watered over and she sniffled.

Renee picked up the box of tissues she had next to her and handed them to Misty. "Will you pass these down, please?"

"Thank you." Lisa wiped her eyes and sniffled again. "Our daughter passed away a couple months ago from an overdose. Now we're just left with our son and he overdosed on meth a few days ago, too. He survived, thank God." Sniffle. "We got him into a rehab. He wasn't even there for twenty-four hours before he left. Now I have no idea where he is or if..." Her voice squeaked when she said, "or if he's still alive." She wept some more. "It's just been really hard and I know it's hard on him, too. He lost a sister. I just don't understand why he didn't learn from her mistake — why he would risk doing that to us again." She was crying too much to speak anymore.

"Anyone have any words of advice or comfort for Lisa?" Renee asked, but no one spoke up. "What about you? What's your name?"

Drake could feel his heart beating fast. He hated being put on the spot and he wasn't like Lisa. He was terrified of opening up in front of all these people. Lisa had been hurt by her addicted children just like Audrey had been hurt by her addicted son. He didn't think anything he could say would make her feel any better.

"Drake," he responded quietly.

"Drake, would you like to tell us why you're here?"

"Not really."

"You don't have to feel embarrassed or ashamed. This is a safe environment. No one here will judge you. Right?"

She got a few affirming replies. He still didn't want to tell these strangers about his personal life, but then he caught Misty's gaze and remembered what she had said to him outside about participating. He wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible, so he had to give them something.

"I tried to kill myself." Those words sounded uncomfortable leaving his lips.

"What led you to do that?"

"I... My fiancée...my ex fiancée — she was...manipulating me."

"In what way?"

"She turned me against my best friends and she isolated me from the world. It was like I was her prisoner, but I didn't know it at the time. She yelled at me and put me down and hit me a lot." He felt embarrassed by how weak he sounded, so he looked down at his lap. "I never stood up to her because...I love her. I met her and it was like she was the piece that had been missing from me for so long. I made a lot of mistakes in our relationship, so I always felt like I owed her — like I was always trying to buy her love. She started going out without me a lot and it made me feel insecure, then I started getting these mean texts from my friend — or I thought it was my friend. It was really her. She created an entire Facebook account posing as my friend and would send me...the most vicious, horrible things. Everyday, multiple times a day. She'd use it to make me do things."

Renee nodded as if she understood. "What kinds of things?"

"Like, one time, she messaged from the fake account pretending to be my friend and started ridiculing me about this time me and my friend slept together — like, saying I performed poorly and stuff. It made me feel like I had something to prove, like, to myself, so when we had sex that night, I let her do a lot of things to me that I wasn't comfortable with and I did a lot of things that I'm ashamed of. She used that profile to control me. Just by sending a simple message, she could change my mood, she could change my emotions, she could change my behavior." Saying these words out loud made them actually set in for the first time.

"What happened the day you tried to hurt yourself?"

"I found out that she had been cheating on me the entire time we were together. I left, but I didn't really have anywhere to go. I didn't wanna end up back on the streets, so I swallowed my pride and apologized for everything and begged her take me back. She had me convinced that her infidelity was my fault and I guess it kinda was. She said a lot of hurtful things and she told me that I should kill myself. I had just gotten a text from the fake account also suggesting that I kill myself. Both my fiancée and my best friend (or so I thought) hated my guts and they were all I had left. They were what kept me off the streets. I don't really remember that day well. My emotions were all over the place, but I woke up in a hospital the next day and my friends have been by my side ever since. It's hard and I miss her, but I've been doing okay and I've had a lot of support over the past couple months. I realized that there are people who care about me and I wanna get better — not just for myself, but for them. I don't want them to have to keep worrying about me." He surprised himself by talking so much.

Nurse Renee nodded and gave a warm smile. She waited for a short moment in case he wanted to add more, but when he didn't, she said, "That's really good that you've got a good support system around you. Thank you for sharing, Drake."

"You said-" Lisa spoke up suddenly. "-you were on the streets." She was still weeping, but not as hard. "You were using drugs?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And you don't care how your mother feels?"

Drake knew that she didn't mean this in a rude way at all. She was just curious because she was desperate to understand her own addicted son, so when Renee kindly tried to cease this line of conversation and steer their discussion in another direction, Drake spoke up, but still softly.

"No, it's okay," he said to Renee, then he met the hurting mother's eyes. "I haven't spoken to my mom in three years, but everyday I was there, I could see the toll my addiction was taking on her and the rest of my family. I loved them and I'll always love them, so that's why I left. It's not that I loved drugs more. I just couldn't stop using," he said. "Everyday, I thought about my mom. I always hoped she knew that I loved her...and that I was sorry. I think..." He approached it cautiously because he wasn't sure if he had the right to say these words or not. "I don't know your son, but I think that maybe he's having trouble quitting or maybe he doesn't feel ready to quit, so he doesn't want you to see him mess up. I think he feels really guilty for letting you down. He knows you're mad and he knows you're sad and he knows he hurt you. I think he would just want you to understand that he's sorry."

Lisa was crying again, but she nodded her appreciation for being so open and honest. "Thank you," she said. "Are you clean now?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"So do you think I should let him clean up whenever he gets ready or should I keep trying with the rehab?"

"Um..." This question was a lot tougher. "I think it's different for everyone. I refused to go to rehab and I even left home when they gave me an ultimatum of either that or getting kicked out. Being on my own wasn't much better. Things got really bad and I, um..." He glanced around the room nervously and felt comforted that, like Renee promised, no one was looking at him with judgment. "I was living with this man who kept me supplied. I stayed so high all the time that I couldn't see straight. I couldn't walk to the bathroom by myself. I probably would've died had he not force-fed me everyday. I don't know how long I was there. I hardly even remember anything that happened, but somehow, my friend found me and he literally kidnapped me. He didn't make me go to rehab, but he put bars on my window and locked me in my bedroom at night and wouldn't even let me go to the bathroom by myself. It sounds extreme, but I don't think I would've cleaned up had he not done that. Cleaning up's the easy part, though. It's the part that comes after that's really hard, so there has to be a lot of support and trust and honesty and compromise on both sides." Then he added, "But again, that's just what worked for me. Maybe rehab will work for him."

"Thank you for telling me your story," she said.

"Does anyone want to add anything?" Renee asked.

An older gentleman lifted his hand slightly. He introduced himself to Drake and Lisa by telling them that his name was Ernest. "I've been in and out of rehabs my whole life almost. I think I was at my ninth rehab when something finally clicked and I've been clean ever since. Haven't had a single relapse in twenty years, so I just wanted to be a testimony that rehab can work. You're son's just gonna have to work with it. He's gonna have to want it himself and it could take a couple rehabs and relapses before he realizes that."

Lisa nodded her head in agreement.

"Would anyone else like to share something before we start our topic of discussion?"

No one spoke up, so she began passing out papers that looked like they were for first graders due to the cartoon that was printed on it next to a list of coping skills. They discussed each one for about twenty-five minutes, but Drake hung back from the conversation now because he was no longer forced to talk. Another paper was passed out after the discussion and it was a BINGO board, but with different coping mechanisms rather than numbers. She gave everyone some Skittles to put over the ones that she called out and after each one, she would choose someone and ask how they have or should have applied a specific coping skill to a situation in their life. Marcus, Drake's roommate, won, which meant that he got to pick tomorrow night's movie. Misty had won yesterday, so tonight was Pretty In Pink.

Everyone piled into the common room for the movie. Renee grabbed the disc from behind the counter and put it into the DVD player. Two of the patients were called up to the nurses' station to take some pills and Cassandra passed out a pack of Oreo cookies and carton of milk to everyone.

"Thank you," Drake said. He set it on his lap and continued eating the Skittles he hadn't finished.

"Yo." Theo pulled his chair up next to his and plopped down in it. He leaned back so that the two front legs came off the floor.

"S'up?"

Neither one had anything to say to the other, but they took comfort in one another's company. They seemed to have made a connection and they didn't even have to speak half the time.

"Bruh, can I put on my fucking pj's because I hate wearing pants?"

Theo looked at him when he jumped up suddenly and swallowed the rest of his Skittles, then went over to the nurses' station. Seconds later, he disappeared down the hall and returned wearing a pair of yellow and black plaid pajama pants. He picked up his Oreo's and milk before sitting back down.

"Surprised you came back," Theo said. "You could've totally hung yourself with those pants."

"I was really looking forward to watching Pretty In Pink. Next time probably," he joked back.

---

They had just enough time to squeeze one last smoke break in before the ten p.m. bedtime. Drake was grateful that Ricardo had brought his cigarettes because now he wasn't forced to talk to Misty. He migrated away from the group after his cigarette was lit and rested by the brick wall, but he wasn't left alone for too long.

"Feeling okay?" Renee asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I just wanted to tell you that you did really great in group today," she complimented. "You should be really proud of yourself."

"Thank you."

She gave him a warm smile before going back over to the group. After everyone finished smoking, they all headed inside and gradually began moving towards the bedrooms. Drake went over to the nurses' station and asked for his toothbrush and toothpaste. He went down the hall to his room and brushed his teeth, then returned the items and headed off to bed. This time when he got to his room, his bunk-mate was there.

"Hi," he said shyly when the man looked at him. "Marcus, right?"

It was uncanny how much this guy looked like Coach Tad. Drake swore they could've been brothers or father and son probably. He hadn't been too excited upon learning that he would have to share a room, but he wouldn't have minded nearly as much if he was bunking with Theo. Now he was sleeping next to a stranger, but not just any stranger. He was sleeping next to an older male stranger.

"Right. And you're Drake."

He held out his hand suddenly and Drake actually flinched. He hoped that the man hadn't seen this. He hesitated momentarily. He was sensitive when it came to being touched, especially being touched by strangers and even more especially by adult male strangers. He felt guilty about the way that he was acting, though. Marcus was probably a really great guy and all. It was just Drake's shit. Still, he made himself shake the man's hand, but he kept his gaze low. He swore he could feel Marcus's eyes all over his body, lingering on places they shouldn't be lingering. They weren't, but he couldn't confirm that for himself because he was too scared to check.

"Yeah," the boy replied, then he pulled his hand away. "Well, goodnight."

Drake laid down on his mattress and pulled the white blanket up to his chin. It was thin like at the regular hospital, only this time, he didn't have any HotHands. He was still wearing his jacket, though, and it was zipped up all the way. He turned over and faced the wall, scooting as close to it as possible. The closer he was to the wall, the further he was from Marcus.

The young man flinched again, this time when his roommate turned the light out. Drake let go of his breath shakily. He brought his legs up to his chest to make himself as small as possible — like if Marcus tried to grab him, maybe he could slip right out of his hands.

The stranger actually fell asleep pretty quickly. Drake, however, was still awake when a male nurse came by with a flashlight. This terrified Drake to the point where he even backed himself into the corner, but the man quietly explained that he just had to check on the patients every now and then and he told him that his chair was at the end of the hall if he needed anything. The boy pretended to be asleep the next several times he came by, but he remained awake for many hours. The bed was incredibly uncomfortable. It was a thin spring mattress atop a box board and his pillow was almost as thin as paper. His blanket was even thinner. In addition to this, his heart jumped out of his throat every time he heard the bed next to him creak. Even when he would begin to doze, his eyes would shoot wide open if he heard even the faintest noise and he'd hold his breath. Drake would lay there, frozen, just listening for footsteps or any sign that Marcus was moving closer. He feared that the man would slip into bed next to him and pull the blanket over their heads. He could already feel him planting kisses on the back of his neck. He could feel Marcus push his own body against Drake's back. He could feel a hand touching his bicep, sliding down to his ribs, his waist, his hips, his thighs, his crotch-

Drake quickly got out of bed and went into the bathroom. He cursed the fact that there was no door and had to settle for closing the curtain, then he hurried over to the toilet and barfed. None of these things were quiet, so it was a wonder that Marcus remained asleep. When he was finished, he flushed the toilet and went over to the sink. The boy scooped water into his cupped hands and rinsed out his mouth, then he splashed water on his face and rested there, trying to control his breathing. He just wanted to go home. He felt so scared and he knew it was irrational, but he couldn't help it.

Once he got a grip on himself, he headed back out to his bed, but when he pulled back the curtain, he saw the male nurse standing outside his bedroom door. This made him jump.

"You alright?"

"Yeah. You just startled me."

"No, I mean..." He pointed towards the bathroom. Apparently, he'd heard retching.

Drake blamed it on eating too much for dinner, then he got back to bed. Throwing up had actually eased his nerves, but only slightly. At least he was able to fall asleep.

---

His dreams had been back-to-back nightmares that he couldn't wake up from. Each time felt real and as if, finally, he had snapped himself out of it, but then the terror would start up again. Every last one of them contained Martin, which was probably due to how afraid he had been to go to sleep in a new place filled with strange men. Throughout the night, he suffered visions of the basement, beatings, rapes and, currently, strangulation. It was so hard to breathe and he couldn't move due to sleep paralysis. All he could do was stare up at the sick smirk on his father's face and hope that he was getting his pleads across with his tear-filled eyes.

"Sir?" He was a male nurse, but not the same one as last night because they had a shift change. His name was Paul and he had rolled in a cart to check the roommates' vitals, which meant that it was six a.m. "Sir, are you okay?"

Strange noises left Drake's throat and he was drenched with sweat. He had a vein popping out of the side of his neck and his fingers were outstretched as far as they would go. Blue veins were also prominently visible — even in the dimly lit room — all over his arms as he strained to breathe or move or wake himself or anything.

"Jesus, he looks like he's fucking possessed," Marcus said.

Paul was fairly new. This was only his second week here and he looked to be close to Drake's age, so he didn't know how to handle the situation exactly. "Sir?" he tried again, then he gently shook his shoulder.

This immediately did something to Drake's body and he was able to move. His eyes shot open and he jerked up into a sitting position. Although he had woken up physically, his mind was still back at his father's and that's exactly who he saw standing over him and reaching for him like he had just let up from strangling him. The young man screamed with fear and it was like he was no longer in control as he wound his fist back and punched the orderly. Marcus' eyes went wide and Drake got in a couple more shots before his roommate jumped up, pulled him away from the shell-shocked nurse and held him back.

"NO! LET GO!" the young man screeched at the top of his lungs. "LET ME GO! LET GO!" In his hallucinatory state, he mistook Marcus for Coach Tad and his panic grew.

"Calm down!" Marcus was struggling to hold him.

Paul hurried out of the room to get some help and pretty soon, Drake was surrounded. He was being grabbed all over and dragged out of the room.

"STOP! GET OFF!"

All the patients were awake now and standing outside their doors watching the commotion.

Theo expressed surprise, then sympathy. He reached out to offer comfort. "Drake-"

"DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME!" He continued yelling this as he tried to tug himself free. It was gradually becoming more and more apparent where he actually was, but that didn't make him any less frantic because he knew where they were taking him when a door was opened.

Solitary confinement.

NOOO! Ggggggg!" He growled and screamed from deep within his throat and his teeth were clenched so hard that his jaw hurt. He firmly planted his heels against the floor, but he couldn't get any traction.

They pulled him down the hallway. The closer he got to the dreaded room, the more hysterical he became. He did actually manage to get a hand free. He punched a second nurse, then shoved another. He tried running the way he had come, but he was being snatched in all different directions until finally, somehow, he was on the floor. Drake could then feel them forcing something on him and immediately knew that it was a straitjacket.

He. Fucking. Lost it.

The patient screeched some more and yelled obscenities which could be heard throughout the entire adult ward. There were many of the orderlies and only one of him, so no matter how hard he fought, they had control. His arms were all the way in the sleeves now, which were sewn shut at the ends, trapping his hands. There was a strap, like a single belt loop, right in the front of his jacket and they forced his arms through it so that they crossed over his chest. He called out for help, but no one came to his aid. He was turned over onto his stomach and both ends of the jacket were pulled together tightly by a nurse while another buckled the three back straps, locking him in. Next, the straps hanging off the ends of both sleeves were buckled behind his back. So many fucking straps.

"PLEASE! PLEASE!" He was bawling his eyes out at this point. "PLEASE!"

Someone reached for two more straps that were on either side of his belly button and they pulled the ends in between his thighs and secured them on his back as well. Once he was all set, they lifted him up and led him towards the solitary confinement room.

"Please," he choked. "I don't wanna go. I don't wanna go!"

They got him in the room, then quickly scurried out and closed the door behind them.

---

"Mmm," Ricardo groaned as his ringing cell phone woke him from his sleep. He hesitantly rolled onto his side and reached for the phone, then squinted when its bright light flashed him. The man tried to focus on who was calling, but his vision was blurry due to his tiredness. He rubbed his eyes, then tried again. It wasn't a number that he recognized and he almost ignored it, but there was part of him that thought it could be Drake calling even though he doubted it was the allotted time for phone calls at the hospital. He swiped to answer, then put the mobile to his ears. "Mmhello?" His voice came out strained.

"Ricky?!"

Drake was so frantic that the man immediately was on high alert. He sat up with confusion as the boy vocally sobbed.

"What's wrong?"

"I need you to come get me! Can you come get me?!"

"What's wrong?" he repeated.

Drake only responded with, "Please come get me!"

"Okay, I'm coming." He tossed the comforter to the side and stood, then went over to his closet quickly and grabbed some jeans. "I'm coming, okay? Can you talk to me?"

"Just come get me," he begged, but not as frantically now.

"Okay. Are you still at the hospital?"

"Yes." Sniffle. Sob.

"Okay, just try to calm down. I'm on my way." He had the phone on speaker as he changed his pants right there in the middle of his room. Next, he grabbed his keys and wallet off of his dresser and went downstairs. "Is there someone there I can talk to? Like a doctor or a nurse?"

He heard a, "He wants to talk to you," then there was another voice, this one female.

"Hello, this is Angela at Wood Lake Behavioral Health."

"Hi, um..." Where do I start? "What's going on?"

"Drake woke up this morning and immediately became physical and aggressive with one of our male nurses, so we put him in solitary confinement to calm him. He kept requesting to call you. I'm sorry it's so early."

"No, it's okay." He was slipping on his tennis shoes now.

Drake's faint, pathetic voice was in the background. "I can't move my arms," he cried.

"I'm on my way up there now," Ricardo said. "Is it okay if I come up there and talk to him?"

"I'm gonna have to ask a higher-up for the authorization to allow visitation. I'll let you speak to Drake while I check on this for you."

"Thank you."

Drake had to hold the phone between his shoulder and his ear since his hands were secured. "I wanna come home," he sobbed.

"I know. Can you tell me what happened?"

The young man tried his best, but he was hyperventilating and bawling so hard that Ricardo could only make out a couple words: ...dad... choke... breathe... Tad... touch... hit... grab... touch... scared... closet... touch... touch... As he did this, Ricardo pulled his jacket on, then he unlocked the front door and stepped outside.

"Okay," he said. His voice was calm although he was practically running to his car. "It's okay. I'm getting in the car now. It'll take me twenty minutes. Can you do some breathing with me?"

"No," he choked.

"Come on, Drake. Do it with me. Just take a breath in through your nose..." He heard his friend do as he said. "...and let it out. Let's just keep doing that, okay?"

"...can't...breathe..."

"I know. Just stick with me, okay?"

"...lung...HUUUH...lung...HUUUUUUH...collapsed..."

"Your lung didn't collapse. You're just having a panic attack. It sucks, I know, but I always help you through these, don't I? You always get through these."

"Shit! HUUUH! ...dropped — HUUUH! ...fucking phone..."

"Drake?" He asked calmly although he felt anything but calm. He could hear the boy's panic attack getting even worse. "Drake? Can you hear me?" He waited. "Drake, can you hear me?" Still no response. "Shit!" He cranked his car, then backed out of the driveway and started down the street.

On the other end, Ricardo could just hear someone calmly ask Drake to quit kicking, but the boy only got worse. He sounded like a snarling dog, but with absolute fear in his voice. Although he seemed somewhat aware of his surroundings, Ricky was pretty sure that he was having vivid, post-traumatic flashbacks and he felt completely at a loss. All he could do was helplessly listen to his best friend suffer.

"NO, DON'T!" he growled.

"This will help you feel better," someone assured.

There were more protests on Drake's end and then sudden silence. Ricardo assumed that he was given a shot of some kind. He'd seen this done in movies before.

Moments later, Angela was back on the phone. "Sir, are you still there?"

"Yes, is he okay?"

"He's okay. You've been approved for an unscheduled visitation. What time do you think you can get here?"

"I'm on my way now, so about fifteen minutes. Did you give him something?"

She confirmed his suspicions about Drake being given a shot. When he voiced concern about the boy being prone to addiction, she assured him that what they had given him was nothing like that. They talked briefly before hanging up, then he let go of his breath. He was actually one big ball of nerves himself and he was starting to regret pressuring his friend to commit himself.

"Hey, Siri." He waited until he heard a double-click. "Text Julio." He wanted to let his brother know where he was in case his frantic movements had woken him up. Plus, he wasn't sure when he would be back. "Hey, I'm on my way to the mental hospital. Drake was having a panic attack this morning and they said I could visit him. They're gonna take my phone at the front desk, so I'll call you when I get out. I'm not sure how long they'll let me stay." Quickly, he thought to add, "Don't freak out, though. I spoke to him on the phone and he's gonna be okay."

"Ready to send it?"

"Send."

"...Done."

---

"How is he?" the man asked.

Angela updated him as she led him towards the adult ward. "He's better. We had to give him something to calm him, but we knew that you were coming so we didn't give him too much. Still, he might seem a little groggy or confused."

As they entered, Ricardo saw a few people hanging out in the common room waiting for their smoke break. They eyed him with curiosity and intrigue. Nurse Angela unlocked the hallway door, then the door to the solitary confinement room.

"He asked for the lights to be out," Angela explained quickly, for she didn't want him to think they were trying to be cruel to him on purpose.

The hallway light lit up the room slightly to show blue padding all over every inch of the walls, floor and even ceiling. The room was small, but like a kid's bedroom kind of small. When Drake was younger and in the teens' ward, the room was tiny, like a bathroom big enough to only fit the essentials: a tub, toilet and sink. Back then, there had been only a little padded mat to lay down on, but if he'd wanted, he could've bashed his own head in on the unprotected floor and walls. Also, solitary back then had been in the basement of the hospital. Despite things changing for the better, he still hated being in this room.

"Jesus..." Ricardo whispered when he turned his head to the left and saw his friend shrinking himself into a corner.

Drake had his knees to his chest and his face hiding in the darkness between them. he was wearing a straitjacket and Ricardo now understood why the boy had freaked out so much. When Drake heard the man enter the room, he lifted his head. He was still weeping and he looked terrified despite the shot he had received.

Ricardo made his way over to his friend and the quickness of his steps made the boy flinch. He got down in front of him and started to pull him into a comforting embrace, but Drake turned his head away.

"I don't wanna be touched," he said quietly.

"Okay." The man retreated, but he still saw the patient squish himself further into a corner. He knew how Drake was about small places like this and he knew he wanted space, even from his best friend. Ricardo backed away until he came to the opposite wall, then he slid onto his bottom. "How are you?" he said gently.

"I wanna go home."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I got confused." Drake's voice was even quieter. "I didn't mean to hit anyone." His bottom lip quivered and he wasn't strong enough to hold back his sob. "I can't move my arms."

"Try not to think about that." He tried to lead the discussion in another direction to pull Drake's focus away from his immobility. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Just thinking about it brought more tears to his eyes. He knew that he would completely lose it if he opened his mouth, so he just nodded.

"I'm sorry." Cautiously, he asked, "Was it about your dad?"

Another nod. Drake never met his eyes.

Both himself and Julio had woken Drake from many nightmares that they had heard him suffering through from all the way in their bedrooms down the hall. They both knew how aggressive and violent he could get before he was snapped back into reality.

"They put me in a room with a man," Drake said.

"Did anything happen?"

He was quiet for a moment. His eyes were full of tears and he stared at the wall next to him because he was too ashamed to see what Ricardo thought of him being in a straitjacket. If it proved one thing, it's that he is, in fact, crazy. He lowered his head and shook it to answer his friend's question.

The man could tell that he had gone somewhere else for that few seconds it took to give him an answer, which planted doubt in his head. "Are you sure?"

Nod.

"You know you could tell me."

Drake's nostrils flared as more silent tears fell. "I just wanna go home."

"You want me to get a nurse so you can talk to them?"

When the boy nodded, Ricardo stood and went over to the small window on the wall behind him. On the other side of this was the nurses' station and they would occasionally check in on a patient to make sure he or she was alright. Ricky knocked on it, which attracted Angela's attention. She held up her finger to let him know she was on her way, then she went around the counter, through the common area, down the hall and into the room.

"Yes?"

"I wanna go home," Drake said. "I wanna sign myself out."

There was a pause as she thought about how to reply. "Unfortunately, it's not that easy. When you commit yourself, you can't just sign yourself out. You have to write a three-day letter."

"A three-day letter?" Ricardo took over because he could see that his friend was getting upset.

"Yes, you write a letter saying that you wanna leave. Basically, three things can happen at that point. Your request may be granted, but usually, especially after incidences like this one, the case is taken to court and they'll decide whether to let you leave or make you an involuntary patient. Since you committed yourself, Drake, you are currently a voluntary patient."

The boy started sobbing again.

"What's the third outcome?" Ricardo asked.

"Well, once the letter is written, the hospital has three days to turn it in, so if the court route is taken, the hospital may decide to turn the letter in at the last minute to ensure that you stay for at least three more days, or they may not turn it in at all and let you go after three days. Still, that's three days you'll be here."

Drake felt even more trapped than he already had if that was even possible.

Ricardo looked at him with sympathy. "We can try the three-day letter if you want. I mean, there is a possibility that they might accept it immediately, right?" he asked Angela.

"That is correct. It is possible."

"Do you wanna do that? Drake?"

"They're never gonna let me out of here."

"You won't know unless you try."

"I'm in a fucking straitjacket, Ricky!" he exploded. "In a padded cell and everything! They think I'm crazy!"

"No one thinks you're crazy," Angela assured kindly. "The jacket will be removed when we feel like you're no longer a danger to yourself or others."

"You don't understand. I can't be here." He was becoming agitated, upset and temperamental.

"Could we get a little more time?" Ricardo asked politely. He knew that when Drake got like this, he was bound to say anything and he didn't want him to say something rude to the nurse.

"Sure." She left them again and closed the door behind her.

"Okay, what's up, Drake?"

"I want. To go," he said desperately through clenched teeth.

"You came in here wanting to leave. You had the mindset that this would all go horribly before you even stepped through the front doors. You've been avoiding places like this for years, just like you refused to go to rehab. Is it because you feel locked in? Is it because of what your dad did?"

"No. You don't understand."

"Then help me understand," he begged.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't."

"Tell me why," Ricardo pleaded.

"Because I can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm fucking ashamed! Okay?" For the first time during their visit, he met his eyes. Although there was still fear in them, what showed most was his anger.

"Ashamed of what?" It wasn't much, but it was something. He waited for the boy to continue, but he didn't. "Ashamed of what?!"

"Of what he did to me!" Tears were falling down his cheeks again, but he took no notice of them.

"Who?" Ricardo said softer now that they were getting somewhere. "Your father?"

"No."

He furrowed his brows. "Tad?"

Drake averted his eyes and shook his head.

*FLASHBACK*

The thirteen-year-old jumped when the door opened behind him and he was immediately filled with dread when Mr. Kenneth entered the cell. He was given a smug smirk.

"Good afternoon, Drake," he said as he set a radio on the floor nearby. "How's it going in here?"

"When can I go back upstairs?"

"You just got down here. In a rush to leave so soon?" Kenneth began setting up a tripod. "You've been here for three days and have already been sent to solitary three times. I'm beginning to think you're doing it on purpose."

Drake felt sick when the man winked.

"Your girlfriend's back in solitary, too, so she'll be joining us again."

He placed a video camera on top of the tripod, then he left the room and closed the door behind him. Minutes later, he returned with a young redhead who was two years older than Drake. The children couldn't even meet one another's eyes.

"They've just gone to dinner upstairs, so I'd say we have about forty-five minutes. On your feet, Drake." He clapped with each of the followed words. "Up, up, up!"

"I don't wanna do this today," the boy protested.

"I don't have time for your mouth today, boy. How many times do we have to go over this? The longer you refuse, the longer I keep you down here. The longer you're in solitary, the longer you stay at the hospital. The longer you stay at the hospital, the more time you'll be spending with me. Now I'm sure you don't want that, do you?"

Drake was crying now.

"Again? With the fucking waterworks? Genny Lynn's a girl and I haven't seen her act like a baby even once."

This gave the child even more of a reason to feel ashamed.

"Get up. The faster you obey me, the faster it'll be over."

"Please," he begged.

"Drake, you're starting to get on my nerves. You remember what I told you? Your address is right behind the front counter. Do you know how easy it would be for me to sneak into your home while everyone's asleep and grab you without anyone noticing? I'd be in and out and we'd be long gone before anyone realized you were missing. You wanna come live with me?"

Drake shook his head with horror in his eyes.

"No. Right. But if I don't finish my movie, that's exactly what's gonna happen. You understand?" Kenneth's voice was terrifying even though he didn't sound authoritative or strict. "So get up. Let's finish this up."

Drake was still crying, but he got onto his feet. Mr. Kenneth motioned for Genny Lynn to stand next to him, then he turned on the camera.

"Don't just stand there. You know what to do. Get undressed."

Genny Lynn made the first move. Drake snuck a glance at her and he saw nothing. There was absolutely no emotion in her whatsoever. Meanwhile, he was a blubbering mess.

"Let's go, Drake," Kenneth said impatiently.

He started with his t-shirt, then his jeans. He had less to take off, but Genny Lynn was somehow finished before him. His entire body was trembling as he slid his boxers down his legs and kicked them away. He covered his lower region with his shaky hands. He could see the lens on the camera zoom in closer as the man looked at the screen and set up the proper angle. He sniffled and his cheeks were streaked with tears.

"Alright, we're all set." He put his attention on the two kids in front of him. "Drake, move your hands."

Hesitantly, he obeyed and he wore the most pitiful expression as he did so.

"Get closer together. I'm gonna play some music and you're gonna slow-dance together." He pressed a button on the radio and a soft jazz tune began playing. When he looked up at them again, they were stiff as boards.

"Closer... A little closer... You gotta put your hands on her waist. You never fucking slow-danced before?"

After the boy did as he was told, Kenneth still wasn't getting was he wanted. He sighed with irritation and he approached the two. Drake was so scared that he started to back away, but he was grabbed and shoved so close to the girl that their nude bodies touched.

The man went back over to his camera and restarted the song. "Alright, and...action."

The two teens began swaying with the music and gradually turning in full circles like at school dances. Drake had always hated school dances.

He had trouble figuring out where to look. He didn't want to look down at her breasts, but he especially didn't want to meet her eyes either. He could look around the room, but he didn't want to see the camera or the look on Mr. Kenneth's face. Genny Lynn must've been feeling the same way because she rested her head on the crook of Drake's neck as if he was her boyfriend and she was relaxing in the safety of his strong arms and protective embrace.

"Start nibbling on her ear, Drake."

He did as he said and he began moving his hands over her body when he was instructed to. Pretty soon, their lips were connected and they were French kissing.

"Genny Lynn, help him get ready."

Seconds later, the boy felt a hand on his-

*END FLASHBACK*

"HUUUUGGLLLHH!"

"Shit!" the man cursed when Drake began vomiting his guts out on the floor next to himself. He felt like puking himself, to be honest. He'd never heard that story before and it made him sick hearing it now.

Ricardo knocked on the window again, but waved Angela over so that she could see Drake throwing up and hurry with a trash can. She was there in seconds. The man took it from her and held it underneath his friend's mouth since Drake couldn't do that for himself.

Unsure of what else to say, Angela asked, "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he throws up a lot when he's nervous."

"I'm gonna grab a janitor. Is there anything else I can get for him?"

"Maybe some wet paper towels." When she was gone, he looked back at Drake, who was panting and spitting into the trash can.

"I'm sorry," the boy apologized pitifully. Tears stung his eyes and snot hung from his nostrils.

"It's okay. Did you get it all out?"

He nodded. Angela came back with some wet wipes and passed them to Ricardo, then disappeared again to find the janitor.

"Is it okay if I help you clean up?" He knew that Drake couldn't do it himself, but he wasn't about to touch him if he didn't want to be touched.

However, the young man nodded. "I'm sorry," he said again, but a couple octaves higher.

Ricardo wiped his nose first, then his mouth and chin. "You wanna move over there out of the janitor's way?" When Drake nodded, he helped him stand and they went to the adjacent corner. "I'm so sorry about what happened to you. I never would've pushed you so hard to come here had I known. I wish you would've told me."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm just so embarrassed and I always tried to push it out of my mind. I don't like to think about it." He sniffled, but his nose was stopped up, so Ricardo had to wipe away more snot. "I guess she was friends with someone I knew because I saw a thing about her on MySpace." MySpace was the Facebook of Drake's generation. "She killed herself three months after she was released."

"Shit," the man whispered with sadness and sympathy. "I'm sorry."

Although he told anyone that asked that it was Meelah, Genny Lynn had actually been Drake's first. She could've very well been the last had Meelah not been so supportive and understanding and patient. If it wasn't for her, he probably never would've had sex again.

"She killed herself because of me," he choked out as his crying got harder. "Because I fucking raped her."

"Hey, you did not rape her!" the man argued.

"That's why all of that shit happened to me. That's why I'm such a magnet for it. God's punishing me. I raped her and now all anyone ever wants me around for is so they can rape me." His voice cracked with those last couple words.

"Drake, she was in a mental hospital. She was already fighting her own demons. What happened to her was not your fault — not even a little bit," the man said. "And all the abuse you suffered through — none of that was your fault either. There are some sick fuckers out there. The problem is them — not you."

"I just wanna go home," he sobbed.

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for pressuring you to come."

Ricardo was surprised when Drake rested his head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around his friend and pulled him even closer. Drake really needed a hug right now. He knew it sounded childish, but he just needed to be held for a while.

They stayed like this for another thirty minutes. Drake didn't want him to leave, but they both knew that the man had probably stayed a lot longer than the nurses anticipated. Ricardo made sure that he was calm. Surprisingly, he was. He was getting used to the darkness and isolation. He just had to tell himself that it was like being in the sanctity of his bedroom and not like being in a basement or closet. He loved being alone in his room and having the lights off. The straitjacket still sucked and he would get anxious if he started thinking about it too much, but he was starting to be able to get ahold of himself and control some of his thoughts now that Ricardo had helped him.

"I promise I'll be back with Julio for visitation later, okay?"

"Okay."

"Do you want me to bring anything?"

"Um, maybe something to read and something to write in and that dark blue sweater Gabriella made me for Christmas."

He was talking about the ugly sweater that she had made for all the boys. Each sweater had "Santos" on the back like a sports jersey, but Drake's had a giant, white "D" on the front. He only saw Ricardo wear his once on the Christmas Eve he received it and he never saw Julio in his. Drake wore his all the time with pride knowing that he was a part of the Santos family.

"You already have that one notebook you've been writing in at the house, right?" Ricardo asked. "You want me to bring that one?"

"I don't think they'll let it fly because it has the spirals."

"Yeah, you're right. Julio's got some composition books he hasn't used yet for school. I'll see if he can spare one. Do you have a specific book request?"

He had already finished all of the books Mrs. Hayfer had checked out for him between his long hospital stay and his lengthy recovery at home. "Anything you think they'll approve of. I have this app on my phone called Goodreads and that's where I keep up with what I've been wanting to read, but if you can't find any of them at the library or if you're too busy to look, you can just pick whatever you like."

Ricardo nodded. He gave him one last hug and some encouraging words and he told him he loved him before he left him.

---

Drake was back to sitting in the corner and he stayed that way for hours. He refused to eat and turned down bathroom breaks. Well, he didn't so much as refuse them; he just kept his head between his knees and didn't speak when they asked.

Just days ago, he had been at home with his friends and they had all laughed over dinner while watching Rush Hour for the hundredth time. Now he was in a padded cell in a nuthouse and wearing a straitjacket. He was in a fucking loony bin and he was the craziest one here. He wondered if they would let him out before visitation or if Julio and Ricardo would have to sit with him in here. He was embarrassed enough that the older man had seen him this way. If Julio saw him like this, he would be humiliated. Mrs. Hayfer told him she'd come visit on Saturday, the second visitation day. That was three days away, so surely he wouldn't still be in this room, but did he really want her to see him in a place like this? She wouldn't judge and he knew that, but he was judging himself.

Although part of him was feeling too ashamed to ever face her again, another part of him felt like calling her. Since his release from the hospital, they had spoken over the phone at least once a week and he and the Santos brothers had joined her for dinner at her house twice. She gave great advice and they would discuss the books that they were reading or the shows and movies that they were watching. She'd tell him about how her summer was going and he would update her on how he was doing with both his mental and physical recoveries. They were like friends, which was weird because they had hated each other just a few years back.

What would she say to him if she saw him like this? She'd probably empathize with him and tell him that there had been times when she should've been in a straitjacket herself. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that she would understand. She, too, had tried to kill herself once, only she'd changed her mind last minute.

Drake was pulled away from his thoughts suddenly and he flinched when the door opened. A woman he hadn't seen before stepped inside. When she spotted him curled up in the corner, she gave him a warm smile.

"Hi, Drake. My name is Dr. Wallace."

They had told him yesterday that she would be visiting any time between 11:30 and 1:00 today, so it must be around lunchtime or a little after.

"I'm gonna ask you some questions about why you're here. I know you've answered them plenty of times before and it's probably getting old by now, but bear with me. After that, I would like to get into what happened this morning and discuss a recovery plan, okay?"

The young man said nothing, but he appreciated the fact that she hadn't tried to approach him and that she'd left the door open so that some of the hallway light could come in rather than turning on the bright, fluorescent lights in this room.

"Can you talk to me about how you were feeling when you committed yourself?"

Again, he said nothing.

"Drake, I know you're tired of answering the same questions over and over again, but I really need you to work with me here. I know you want to leave and I would love that for you, but I just wanna make sure that you won't try to hurt yourself again. I want you to get better."

"Can you take the jacket off now?" he asked.

She thought about it, then said, "Let me talk to the nurses and see if they think it's a good idea."

Although she was his doctor and had the authority to grant his request, she wanted to know how he had been behaving lately and whether it seemed likely or not that he would have another meltdown. She left the room and closed the door behind her, then returned with two male nurses, who did as Drake had asked before leaving the room.

"Is that better?" she asked.

He didn't answer her. Even though he could move around much more now, he still stayed in the corner and he still kept his arms folded up around him, but around his knees this time so that he could pull his legs closer to his chest and make himself smaller.

"How are you feeling right now, Drake?" She sat down on the floor where she was and doing so let him know that she was trusting him not to attack her or run out the door.

"I wanna go home."

"I know. The first couple days in a new place can be quite scary. Is that what you're feeling? Scared?"

He kept his eyes low. He didn't want to answer her, but he knew he had to give her something, so he shrugged.

"Let's talk about your suicide attempt. What led up to that?"

"I was tired of being sad," he said so quietly that she had to strain her ears to hear him.

"How long have you been feeling sad?"

"Years."

"How many years would you say?"

"Eight." That magic number eight. Saying this numeral made him start thinking about Charlie and when eight pills had been enough. Now his magic number was, like, forty-eight.

"Eight years ago. You were..." She checked his file for his current age and subtracted. "-thirteen. What was life like for you when you were thirteen?"

He just said, "Bad."

"Why was it bad?"

Drake didn't feel like talking, but he knew that, if he didn't, he might be here as long as Theo had. "My parents got divorced," he said, "and my dad blamed me."

"How do you know he blamed you?"

"Because he told me all the time."

"He told you that he blamed you?"

"Yes."

"What was your relationship like with your father before the divorce?"

He felt himself getting teary-eyes talking about his dad. Despite everything, he missed him dearly. "Good."

"Describe it to me."

"He played baseball with me and let me stay up past bedtime sometimes so I could watch Jimmy Fallon with him and he took me to a record store when he wanted a new album and let me pick one out, too."

"It sounds like you two had a really strong bond," Dr. Wallace said. "How did your relationship change after the divorce?"

"He was drunk all the time and started beating me and locking me in his closet."

"Did anyone know that this was happening to you?"

"No." Then, "Well, I later found out that my little sister could hear me screaming sometimes, but she was too young to really understand what was going on and what to do about it."

"Did he ever hit her?"

Drake shook his head.

"What is your relationship with your father like now?"

"He's dead."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," she said when she saw that this upset him. "May I ask how?"

He hesitated. Did he really have to go into all this detail? "He tried to kill me. He was strangling me, so I stabbed his arm to get him to let go, but I hit an artery on accident."

She frowned with sympathy. "How old were you when this happened?"

"Eighteen."

"Do you still think about that night often?"

He nodded.

"Is that who your nightmare was about this morning?"

Another nod. "I didn't mean to hit anyone. I don't like to be touched."

"Did your father touch you in a way that made you feel uncomfortable?"

Even in the darkness, she could see more water pool up over her eyes and he could no longer hold his tears back. She stood and went into the bathroom since it was nearby, then she came back with a roll of toilet paper and passed it to him. When he took it, Dr. Wallace sat back down in her original spot. She gave him some time to collect his thoughts and she began scribbling some notes down.

"How old were you when the sexual abuse started?" she asked with a kind, understanding voice.

"I was sixteen the first time he forced himself on me."

"Forced himself on you? Could you be a little more specific?"

Drake sniffled, then pulled some of the toilet paper off of the roll and used it as a Kleenex. Dr. Wallace waited patiently for about a minute, but pressed him again.

"Drake? Could you answer my question?"

He shook his head. He didn't feel like talking anymore.

"I understand that this is a very hard thing to talk about, but you're doing a great job."

He could really use some Triple C's right about now. He rarely ever cried during the...sexual assaults. Now that he was clean, he started bawling his eyes out at the mere thought of them. Every time the memories flooded his mind, he was overcome with nausea. He felt so incredibly humiliated and ashamed to have been so weak. The way Martin would hold him down and hit him to keep him in submission made his skin crawl. The way Drake had just given up towards those last few months and would pull his own pants down and bend over whenever his father expressed interest made him want to die. Listening to the words and noises that would leave his father's mouth had always filled him with defeat. He had always been so mortified when his body would go against him and display arousal. Martin had always been on a power trip. Drake hoped that illusion of control his dad had felt had been worth all of the trouble he had caused the boy.

Dr. Wallace changed her line of questioning before Drake shut down completely. "Can you tell me what was going on that made you decide to commit yourself here?"

It was too late. He was finished with her questions.

---

When Ricardo entered the solitary confinement room, he found Drake in the same corner he had left him in, only this time, he was no longer sporting a straitjacket. His brother followed him in and looked all around at the completely padded walls before his eyes landed on his friend.

"Hey," Ricardo said softly.

"Hey." Drake was even quieter.

Julio approached him and sat down next to him, then immediately wrapped his arms around the patient. Ricardo started to say something, but the boy didn't seem to mind the touch.

Drake closed his eyes as he rested his head on Julio's shoulder. His friend held him tight and petted his hair gently, but he didn't say anything. Drake assumed Ricardo had told his brother the story he'd been told earlier. He didn't mind and he'd expected it. When it came to Drake's traumas and struggles, both Santos boys needed to know in order to best help him recover. This is what they had agreed on years ago and Drake liked it this way. It meant that he only had to tell one of them and whoever he told would fill the other brother in so that he wouldn't have to repeat it.

"They still haven't let you join the others?" Ricardo sat down on the other side of his friend and leaned his back against a different wall.

"I had another episode."

"Did anyone get hurt?"

"I yelled at my doctor."

"What happened?"

"I asked her to leave and she didn't leave and the walls started closing in and I couldn't breathe because she was breathing up all the air."

The two brothers made eye contact with one another shortly and both seemed sad and sympathetic.

"How are Macaulay and Agent Jack Bauer?"

"They're good." Julio said. "They miss you. I went in your room to feed them and they scratched the shit out of me." He showed his friend the fresh scratches on his hand and arm and this actually brought up a teeny tiny smile on the boy's face. "I'm glad you think that's funny. I was about to punt your cat across the fucking room, but then I remembered you'd probably get really depressed about it and cry or whatever." He rolled his eyes and his joke made Drake smile a little bigger.

"Is that dinner?" Ricardo nodded towards a tray on the floor between himself and the door.

"Lunch."

It was currently four in the afternoon. "You didn't eat?"

"I wasn't hungry."

"Did you eat breakfast?"

"No."

Ricardo leaned over and dragged the tray closer, then he put it in front of the patient. "You need to eat."

"It's cold now."

"Don't give me that bullshit. You never reheat leftovers at home."

Ricardo was right. Drake hated reheated food, but that didn't stop him from eating dinner from a previous day, even if it had been refrigerated all night. Drake picked up the chicken sandwich and took a bite to please the man. He kept his arms around his knees as he ate.

"So was that Theo Quest from high school I saw out there?" Julio said to start a conversation.

Drake nodded.

"Shit, that's awkward."

"No, he's pretty cool actually. We hung out some yesterday."

"Did yesterday go alright?" Ricardo asked.

"It was..." He shrugged. "...a little overwhelming, but I was mostly alone until smoke break, which was good. Thanks for leaving my cigarettes, by the way."

"I got back to the car and saw them and thought I'd ask if they were allowed. I dropped off a few more packs before I came in just now."

"Thanks."

"You talk to anyone else besides Theo?" Julio asked.

"Not really. That one girl Misty keeps talking to me, but she's kinda annoying. She's nice, though, I guess."

"Is that the one who's our age? She's pretty hot."

"What did you do yesterday?" the older brother asked.

"They said I was on unit restriction until I saw my doctor, so I haven't left the common room except for when they let me go out and smoke. I just sat around mostly, but then one of the nurses made me go ask if I can play a board game with Misty and that's when me and Theo started talking," Drake said. "Then we had group and watched a movie afterward and went to bed."

"How was group?"

"It was okay. They made the new people introduce themselves and talk about why we're here. I just told them about Clem and a little about drugs because this lady has a son my age who's addicted and she was asking me about them. Then we played BINGO, but like, with coping skills instead of numbers."

"Did you get anything out of it?"

Drake only shrugged, but Ricardo hadn't expected for his friend to come in and be immediately enlightened and cured, so he wasn't disappointed by the outcome.

"Are you supposed to have group after visitation?" Julio asked.

"Dinner's first, then a smoke break, then group. I don't know if they'll let me go or not, though. They'll probably bring my food in here and they said smoke breaks are privileges you have to earn."

"I'll talk to them on the way out," Ricardo offered. "You want me to see if they'll give you a room by yourself?"

Drake nodded gratefully. "I really didn't mean to hit or yell at anyone. I just lost control of myself."

"Did your doctor give you any medicine?"

"Yeah, I start tomorrow. Something with an 'e,'" he said. "Effexor, I think. With some letters after it. I don't remember. I couldn't really pay much attention."

"Maybe it'll help and you'll get to feeling better."

Drake said nothing more on the matter. "Has Mrs. Hayfer called?"

"She wanted me to call after visitation," Ricardo said.

"Are you gonna tell her about earlier?"

"Do you not want me to?"

The young man gave it some thought, then said, "It doesn't matter. Were you able to find a notebook?"

"Yeah, Julio had a spare."

"What book did you bring?"

"I'm gonna let it be a surprise so you have something to look forward to."

Drake didn't care much for surprises, but he left it alone. "What have you guys been up to today?"

"I've been working on homework since I got up this morning," Julio said.

"Dee called," said Ricardo.

It had been a month and a half since their break-up and they were still split, but neither seemed to fully be able to break ties. They spoke on the phone once a week and it was clear that both wanted to get back together, but it was just a bad time. Ricardo was still so focused on Drake that he wouldn't be able to give Dee the attention he deserved and they both knew it.

"How did that go?" the young man asked.

"He asked about you and he said he got the part as Collins in the play you two auditioned for."

"That's exciting."

"He said they've been trying to call you for a couple days because they cast you, too."

Drake remembered being called multiple times a day for three days in a row. "I didn't know the number, so I didn't answer it." He never answered numbers he didn't recognize because he always got scared that someone in his family had found his contact information. "Did you tell him I can't do it?"

"I started to, but he said rehearsals wouldn't start for another two and a half weeks, so I told him I'd talk to you."

"I don't think I wanna do it."

"Why not?" Julio interceded. "It'll be fun and it's a great way to warm up to being on stage again without all those assholes who used to watch us perform."

"I agree with Julio," his brother said. "Not only will it help you fall back in love with something you used to adore, but I think it could be good, you know?"

Drake didn't know and Julio saw this, so he spoke up. "He means for you and Dee."

Ricky sounded hopeful. "I just think if you two got to know each other more and became friends again..."

He couldn't really think of a reason. It was for purely selfish purposes that he wanted Drake and Dee to make up. He knew it. Drake knew it. Even Julio knew it.

"I don't know. It was just a thought. Either way, it's not important right now. You just focus on yourself."

"I'll think about it," Drake promised, but he knew he would end up accepting because he did want to make it up to Ricardo and he did owe Dee a huge apology.

"What part did you audition for?" Julio asked.

"It's a bunch of different parts, really. Just, like, the minor background characters."

Ricardo had found out apparently although Drake had evaded this same question when he was asked months before. "Like a homeless junkie?"

"I told Dee I didn't wanna do it."

"He also said you're understudying for Roger."

"No, I didn't try out for that."

Ricardo shrugged. "That's what he said."

"That's one of the hugest parts. He's got, like, a thousand lines. That's why I wanted to be a background character."

"Drake, you know Rent by heart," Julio said. "Besides, you're just an understudy. It doesn't mean you'll actually have to play the part."

He was right and that made him feel a little better. "I didn't think I got the part. I feel like I auditioned forever ago. I actually forgot about it."

"I guess they get their cast set up in advance. I think they were just finishing up a run of a different play. What was it again?" He looked at Julio. "We passed it the other day when we went to that Japanese place."

"Uh... Shit, I can't remember. It was that one from that episode of Sunny."

"The Wiz," Drake said.

"That's it."

The three boys continued talking for the remainder of visitation without their conversation running stale even once. Drake hugged them both goodbye when their time was up and the two brothers reluctantly walked out the door, leaving him alone until the next visitation day three days from now.

After all the patients' friends and loved ones were gone, Angela came in to talk to Drake. She asked him questions about how he was feeling and what had happened to set him off earlier that morning. He didn't answer until she told him that her reason for doing this was so that she could assess that he was no longer a danger. Once she did that, he would be able to leave solitary confinement, so he complied and answered his questions vaguely.

Finally, they released him from his lonely prison, but everyone had gone to dinner. He didn't really mind. He was embarrassed about having to face them all again after his meltdown. Drake didn't eat dinner because he just ate that chicken sandwich when he wasn't even hungry, so he sat at the table alone and stared at the television absently. He gave it about fifteen minutes before he stood and tossed his Styrofoam tray in the trash can. That way, it would at least look like he'd tried, right?

When the others returned, he still kept himself isolated and no one bothered him. During their smoke break, Drake took two cigarettes and got through both in the fifteen minutes. He wished he had time for another to make up for all the ones he had missed today. Misty approached him outside, finally breaking his peace. She asked what had happened and if he was okay in that annoying, nosy way she usually did, but he ignored everything and she finally left after calling him a jackass. He didn't care.

In group, Theo sat down next to him again, but he didn't say anything. Drake had his heels in the chair so that his knees were to his chest. He had his arms wrapped around his knees and his head hidden in the darkness there. He didn't want to be here and he didn't want to talk.

The beginning of therapy was open for discussion on any topic. Lisa talked about her marriage and Misty about her dead brother and Ernest about constant despair. Drake learned that Marcus, too, was having depression issues after having been laid off work a couple years ago and he had picked up drinking as not just a hobby, but a full-time gig. Drake didn't know the other women so well. There was Hero, Rita, Paula, Daphne and Lois. Mostly each one just said quick updates on their mental progress or how the medication seemed to be affecting them or how visitation had gone or how being away from home and/or work was stressing them out because they knew they'd have a lot to catch up on after their release. Theo didn't talk. Drake had learned the day before from Misty that he never did.

"Drake, what about you?" A nurse named Mr. Preston was leading group therapy today. "Do you have anything you want to share?"

He didn't even lift head head out from between his knees when he shook it.

"What about the incident this morning. I'm sure we all would like to know how you're feeling and we wanna give you support."

Theo looked over at Drake, who didn't offer any sort of verbal or physical gesture in response this time.

Preston gave the classic mantra. "No one is here to judge you. This is a safe space."

Still, the patient gave him nothing, nor did he speak during the guided discussion. Today's was about proper hygiene. He didn't participate in the hygiene-centered game of BINGO either, which Rita had won.

When group was over, Drake was called into the small room closest to the nurses' station to do blood work. Again, he was asked the same questions about how he was feeling. He just told them he was fine and said nothing more when prodded.

The movie had already started when Drake returned to the common room. Since Marcus won yesterday's game of BINGO, he got to choose today's movie and he surprised everyone when he went with Garfield. Drake didn't feel much like watching it, so he sat down in a chair against the wall by the large window so that he could be away from everyone. He didn't take the snack that was offered to him and he kept his head between his knees again until it was time for smoke break. When he took a drag on his second cigarette, Nurse Angela came outside and went over to him.

"Hey, Drake. How are you feeling?"

He actually liked her since she had been the one to let him phone Ricardo, so he gave her a shrug. It wasn't much, but it was more than what he would've given anyone else.

"We have a room prepared for you. When you're finished, I'll accompany you to your old room so you can gather your things and I'll take you to the new room."

"Thank you," he said softly. He was almost done with his cigarette anyway, so he put it out and tossed it in the plastic cup they collected the butts in, then followed her inside. He didn't want to wait until everyone else was inside, too, because he didn't want it to be a whole scene.

As he picked up the brown paper sack full of clothes, Angela said, "You have another bag with more things that were dropped off for you. You can pick it up at the nurses' station."

She led him two doors down to the right, which put him closer to the nurses' station and common room. It wasn't much closer, but it just meant that they had a couple less steps to take if he had to be dragged into solitary confinement again in the morning. This room looked the exact same as the one before, except it was unoccupied.

"Thank you," the boy said again, then she left after giving him a smile.

He set his things down and chose the same bed he had last time — the one in front of the desk as opposed to in front of the door. He went to the nurses' station and got his new bag of belongings and he also asked for things that he could bathe with. They gave him a tiny cup of shampoo, a tiny cup of conditioner, a bar of soap like one would get at a hotel and he also got his toothbrush and toothpaste. He took a shower, but he couldn't help but to keep looking over his shoulder. Even though he had his own room now, he was only hidden behind the shower curtain and the curtain that substituted as the bathroom door and he wasn't allowed to close his bedroom door completely. He was covered all over his torso with ugly scars and he didn't want anyone to see them. He still didn't know these people. What was to stop any of them from slipping into his room undetected and putting a hand over his mouth? What was to stop a nurse from doing that?

He got out of the shower quick, then brushed his teeth and returned the toiletries to the front desk. On his way back to the room, Marcus was standing outside of his door talking to one of the women. When he saw Drake, he spoke to him.

"You moved out on me, roomie? What, do I snore too loud?"

It was a friendly joke, but Drake wasn't laughing. He just lowered his head and disappeared into the sanctity of his room. He cracked the door as much as he was allowed, then he grabbed the new bag Ricardo had brought him and sat down in the bed with it. The sweater he had asked for was on top, so he removed his jacket and put it on. This reminded him that he was loved. Ricky also threw in two new pairs of pajama pants that seemed brand new. This was great because there was no way to wash clothes here and he'd only brought two pairs — one of which had been confiscated due to the string around the waist. These two new ones had buttons. Next, he pulled out a composition book from Julio. He'd have to ask for a pen whenever he wanted to write in it, but that was fine. He didn't have anything in mind that he wanted to write, but he thought that maybe picking journaling back up could be a good way to kill the downtime. Plus, if people saw him writing, they wouldn't bother him.

Next, he pulled out the books Ricardo brought for him to read. The first and largest book was Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. He read the first one after getting out of the hospital because Mrs. Hayfer had checked it out for him, so now he could continue on with the series. Next, he saw That Was Then, This Is Now. It was smaller and shorter and by the same author as The Outsiders. Mrs. Hayfer had probably recommended this one. Next, he picked out a bright red book that was so sleek and shiny that he knew it was store-bought and hadn't come from the library like the others. The cover read, The Disaster Artist: My Life Inside The Room, The Greatest Bad Movie Ever Made. The corners of his lips turned upwards into a smile. He and Ricardo used to have Best Bad Movie Mondays years ago when he had first cleaned up. Actually, it had just started off as a regular Movie Marathon Monday, but after Drake had introduced Ricardo to the brilliant masterpiece that was The Room, both had become more interested in finding all the worst films they possibly could.

He knew he would definitely read this one first, so he tore off a bit of the brown sack and slipped in into the book so that he could later use it to mark his page, then he tossed everything back inside the bag and left it at the foot of his bed. Drake stood and turned off the light, then laid down and covered up. Despite how happy he had just been moments before after seeing the books Ricardo had surprised him with, he started obsessing and stressing over how helpless and trapped he felt by being locked away in a mental hospital. He wept for a long time before he was able to fall asleep.

The next two days weren't any better. He took his medicine for the first time that next morning and threw up after breakfast, but it was unclear whether it was caused by the Effexor or because he'd forced himself to eat the nasty powdered eggs they'd been served for breakfast. He'd never had powdered eggs before. Drake didn't even know they existed. Because he still refused to talk to his doctor, he remained on unit restriction and wasn't allowed to leave the common room with everyone else, but he didn't care. He liked to stay by himself and read his book. Since he basically ignored everyone that tried to talk to him, the other patients didn't approach him anymore and they left him alone, even Misty. Well, except Theo. Theo didn't bother him with words, but he did sit two seats away from Drake every now and then and it actually made Drake feel better to know that they still shared a silent bond. He was the only one who didn't try to force him to speak, which was probably because he didn't like to speak much himself.

---

On Saturday, he was the first one in the common room. This wasn't new. He always was the first one. It's because he had been told that wake-up time was at six a.m. What this really meant is that someone would come around and check their vitals, but you didn't really have to be out of bed until seven a.m. for smokers and eight a.m. for everyone else. Drake didn't care. He liked the solitude of being in the common room when the lights were out and the sun was rising outside of the large glass window. Every morning, he watched The George Lopez Show until they went out to smoke, then he would start reading. He read every chance he got, so he finished his book around 8:30 that morning. Theo, who was sitting two seats away to allow him the space he clearly wanted, noticed when he flipped to the last page, then closed the book moments later. Theo had a pen between his teeth and one of his heels were in his seat as he twisted his sock the correct way. This was something that had been bothering him all morning, but he'd only just now had the motivation to do something about it.

"How was it?" His voice was muffled because of the pen in his teeth.

Drake was quiet for a couple seconds, then he answered. "It was really funny."

"Funny?" Theo put his foot back on the floor and took the pen out of his mouth. He rested it on the notebook he had in his lap. "What's it about? Can I see?"

Drake passed it to him and the patient read the summary on the back cover.

"Didn't James and Dave Franco make a movie about this?"

"You've seen it?"

"No. Just commercials." He passed it back. "Book or movie? Which is better?"

Drake thought about this. "They're both good. The book covers more, though, but I love the movie, too."

"I didn't know you were a closet nerd in high school."

"Did you just call me a nerd?"

"What? You prefer geek?"

For the first time in days, Drake laughed. He had been called a lot of things, but never a nerd and it was one of the better things he'd been called in his lifetime. He even felt a tinge of pride. "Reading's actually a new hobby," Drake said.

"Cool." Theo's head turned towards the open room when he heard a couple sobs. His eyes landed on Lois and Daphne, who were crying and hugging. "Lois and Paula are getting released today. I wonder what Daphne's gonna do. Her and Lois were joined at the hip. They never ran out of things to talk about."

"How long have they been here?"

"Eh, about a week. I know they're excited to be going home."

"I'm jealous."

"You keep doing what you're doing and you might be here as long as me."

Those words hit Drake hard. He'd already known this, but he'd kept pushing that thought out of his mind because they couldn't hold him forever. Three weeks was a long time to be away from home, though. He was already a few days behind due to his lack of participation. Otherwise, he could've been on his way out the door or close to it at least.

---

When morning therapy group came around, Drake and Theo sat together like usual. What made them different was that Theo always sat leaned back in his chair, rocking gently with the two front legs hovering above the ground as if the thrill of danger — the possibility of falling and experiencing pain — comforted him. Drake always remained curled up in a ball hugging his knees to his chest. Lately, he'd been hiding his head between his knees, but not today. Today, he had his chin resting on his arm and his head facing forwards, though he still didn't make much eye contact.

"Anyone else care to share anything before we get started with today's discussion?" Mrs. Renee was leading group again. "Theo, what about you? Would you like to tell us a little bit about how you're feeling today?"

"Pass," was all the boy said.

"No?" Renee looked around the room for a volunteer and right before she could move on to their topic for today (diet and exercise), she just barely caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head towards Drake, who meekly had his hand raised slightly although he never stopped hugging his knees against his body. "Yes? Drake?"

"Um," came out of his mouth so quietly that everyone subconsciously leaned forwards in their chair to hear him. He was finally breaking his silence after Wednesday's sudden outburst and all were curious to know what had happened. Still, he never made eye contact. Instead, he stared at the laminated hospital band on his wrist. "I just wanted to say...that I'm sorry about freaking out on everyone the other day...and I'm sorry I've been such a jerk since then."

Renee stayed quiet for a moment in case he had more to say, but he didn't. "Thank you, Drake. That was very brave of you. Is there anything else? Would you like to talk about what happened?"

He shook his head.

"This is a safe place to talk," she reminded. "Are you sure?"

Drake nodded.

---

When Dr. Wallace arrived and pulled him into the group therapy room that they never used, Drake answered more of her questions. He was still private about most things, but she was pleased with his progress and the fact that he was beginning to open up to her, so she rewarded him by taking him off unit restriction. Therefore, he was able to join the others when lunchtime came around at 1:30. The cafeteria was much smaller than a school cafeteria, but there were still several empty tables left after the eleven patients and Mr. Preston sat down with their food. Drake hadn't eaten much since he'd arrived, but today he was hungry. He ate everything on his plate — chili, grilled cheese, peaches and cole slaw — and was still hungry. Theo offered him his leftover corn dog before putting his tray away, so Drake ate that, too. The two boys talked some more about books and Theo gave him some recommendations although he wasn't sure if his new friend would like them because he was into a lot of science fiction and Drake was into...well, basically drug porn.

It was pouring down raining outside, so their smoke break was put on hold and they spent their recess in the gymnasium. Lois and Paula hung back in the common room because they were getting released, so everyone said their goodbyes before heading off to the gym. No one seemed to like the small gym because everyone sat against the wall or walked laps. It was in here that Drake approached Marcus and apologized to him personally. He made sure the man knew that he wasn't the reason he'd switched rooms, but he didn't go much beyond that when it came to an explanation. They talked briefly, then started playing HORSE with the one basketball goal. Drake was pretty rusty and Marcus was very good for his age, so he won the first game. Misty joined the next one and dragged Theo along, so then they played two-on-two. Drake and Marcus won this one and although the young man had warmed up and was now better, his partner still carried their team to a victory.

Despite the rule about not being allowed in the bedrooms during the daytime, they allowed those who had played basketball to take a quick shower before visitation in ten minutes. When Drake was finished, Mrs. Hayfer and Julio were already sitting at one of the tables waiting for him. He returned his brush to the nurses' station before joining the two. Drake felt a bit proud when he was able to give them a positive report and tell them that he was no longer on unit restriction. He told them about what he'd had for lunch and the books Theo had recommended and the game of basketball he'd just played and he listened to them talk about their day. He asked Mrs. Hayfer if she knew when it was supposed to stop raining and mentioned craving a cigarette. Julio commented on how much better Drake seemed to be doing today and Drake told him that he was beginning to get used to the other patients and the new routine. The young man noticed while they chatted that Mrs. Hayfer was wearing two gray and yellow bracelets. One was his because he wasn't allowed to wear jewelry in here. Ricardo had said he would take it home when Drake had removed it in the waiting room, so he wasn't sure how his former teacher had ended up with it. Maybe they met for dinner after that first visitation and Ricardo let her hold on to it. Drake commented on it and Alice confirmed this. The young man couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he felt a warmth in his heart.

Marcus and Ernest sat with Drake and Theo during dinner and they talked about a bunch of random bullshit — women mostly. Drake sat and listened to some of the older gentlemen's outrageous stories of their younger years, including one told by Ernest about dating actress Meryl Streep in high school. No one cared whether it was true or not because Ernest had this way of speaking that drew people in and hypnotized anyone who listened. He could make anyone laugh without breaking a sweat.

By some miracle, the rain had stopped for a short moment after dinner and Drake was able to smoke. In group therapy, they talked about goals and had to write down one thing that they wanted to get out of their time at Wood Lake. Drake was never too great at writing goals. He knew that he wanted to get better, but he also knew that this place wasn't a cure, so he couldn't write that. He ended up writing some bullshit about learning better coping skills and he meant it, but writing it down just felt like bullshit — like being back in school. He wasn't sure why. Maybe he was tired.

Misty had won BINGO again yesterday, so she got to choose tonight's movie. She went with Premium Rush, which was about a bike messenger in New York who gets chased around by a dirty cop because he has an envelop the cop wants. The rain started back up, so they skipped the last smoke break and went to bed after the movie. Drake laid down and listened to the raindrops falling outside his window. He fell asleep before lights out.

---

Drake's eyes shot open and he took in a sharp breath of air. It took him a second to recognize where he was. He was panting with fear as he sat up and wiped the sweat off of his face. Standing just inside the door frame was Mrs. Cassandra.

"You were having a nightmare," she said softly.

She had called his name to wake him, but all the nurses knew not to approach him or go into his room before he was up to avoid a repeat of last time. There were two male orderlies behind her. She turned to them and nodded as if to tell them that everything was okay.

"What time is it?" the boy asked. It was still dark outside his window.

"Almost five."

It wasn't time to get up yet, so he laid back down. Cassandra asked if he was okay and he said he was, so she left him. Drake didn't go back to sleep, though. He kept repeating the nightmare in his mind. Of course he had one today of all days. It was June fifteenth: Father's Day. This was never a good day for him now that he didn't have a father. Even when his dad had been around, it'd never been a good day for him.

At six, someone came in to check his vitals, then he got out of bed and went to the nurses' station to receive his toiletries. He got in the shower to rid himself of the layer of sweat that coated his body, then he put on some clothes and brushed his teeth. Like usual, he was the first in the common room, but this time, he couldn't concentrate on The George Lopez Show and he isolated himself once again during the first smoke break. He was quieter than normal at breakfast and he even spent the next smoke break alone. He couldn't shake the feeling that had resulted from his nightmare and this shit day and he could feel himself shutting down again. Normally, he had Ricardo or Julio to talk to about these things, but not here. He was surrounded by a bunch of strangers. He couldn't just go up to Theo and pour his heart out and expect to receive the reaction that he wanted. As time passed, he could feel those old emotions bubbling back up and they were swallowing him whole. He even snapped on Marcus at one point when the man tugged on his shoulder to ask if he was going to eat his breakfast omelet. He gave it to him, then he stood and moved several tables away so that he was sitting alone with his back to everyone else. The cafeteria got much quieter after that. It had taken time for Drake to get ahold of himself and when he did, he'd felt horrible. It wasn't Marcus' fault that he resembled Coach Tad so much. Martin used to always compare Drake with his own abusive father, so the boy knew firsthand how it felt to receive unfair treatment due to appearances. He just shouldn't have touched him is all.

After breakfast, he asked for Ms. Cassandra to unlock the bathroom and he went inside and cried. He cried about his guilt. He cried about being stuck here. He cried about his nightmare. He cried about it being Father's Day. He cried about having to live the rest of his life with what his dad had done to him. He cried so long that he missed smoke break and he was still crying when it was time for group therapy. Cassandra asked if he'd like to share anything and he shook his head, then she gave the others a chance to speak. Everyone seemed to say the same things they always did except for Daphne. She talked about how lonely she had been since Lois had left and how much being able to talk to someone had helped. The nurse repeated about how this was a safe space and that she could always share what she was feeling in group, so she did. She let everything out and she cried right along with Drake. Afterwards, Daphne talked about how great it felt to have gotten everything off her chest. She said that it felt freeing. Drake wanted that. He was desperate for that. It was like he had this permanent rain cloud above his head and it was exhausting being so wet and cold all the time. He was ready to let go.

Cassandra started to move on to today's topic, but Drake stopped her by raising his hand. He was hesitant at first, but she assured him that it was okay to say what he needed to say. It didn't take too much convincing. Once he started talking, it was hard to stop. He hugged his knees to his chest and cried as he unloaded himself onto this group of strangers. He talked mostly about the nightmares he's been having and about the abuse he'd suffered through for years under his dad's care. He talked about how weak and unworthy the sexual assaults had made him feel and he told them how confused he was about why it had happened to him and what he had done to deserve it. He informed them about how his father had died and how much he missed him — how willing he was to let him touch him again if it meant that he was still around and how fucked up he knew that was. He talked about how much he hated this day of the year and how much more it made him wish he still had his dad. He told them what it felt like to be a murderer and how he had ruined every single relationship — including the one with his family — to suppress these feelings with drugs. He touched on the subject of prostitution so that he could explain to them why he felt like every man out there only wanted to fuck him, which led to his apology to Marcus for blowing up on him during breakfast. While he was saying sorry, he apologized for how shitty he had been to Theo freshman year and how everything he'd ever done in his life made him hate himself to the point where he would be filled with an intense dread every time he woke up in the hospital after a suicide attempt knowing he'd failed. He talked about Julio and Ricardo and Mrs. Hayfer and Samantha and Brett and Rhinestone and Gemini and everyone who had proved to him over the last month that he was loved and told them how he wanted to get better so that they wouldn't have to worry about him anymore.

When he was done, Cassandra told him how great it was that he had opened up and shared his feelings. She said talking about it was the first step towards recovery and she opened the floor for anyone who wanted to offer feedback. Lisa was sitting next to him and she was crying, too. He reminded her a lot of her own son since they were both addicts and she always thought of Drake as kind since he'd answered her personal questions for her during his first group therapy session. She wrapped her arms around him and held him in a tight embrace and he welcomed this touch. It was gentle and it made him miss his mom. Everyone offered kind words except, of course, Theo, who put his hand on Drake's shoulder as his own way of silently showing support. Daphne had been right. It did feel freeing to get these things off his chest.

When group was over, the nurses allowed for an extra smoke break due to the emotional session, then everyone gathered together in the common room. It was Sunday, so the doctors weren't coming in for a check-in. Cassandra opened the activities closet and allowed people to pick out board games or crafts. Marcus called Drake over to play cards with himself and Ernest as a way of saying that there were no hard feelings. Theo tagged along and they played Bullshit. In this game, the first player lays his aces face-down in the middle of the table and verbally says how many he has. The next player puts down his twos and tells everyone how many he has. It follows that pattern. However, you can lie and put down whatever you want, but if someone thinks you're lying and calls you out, you have to flip your cards and show whether or not you lied. If you did, you have to keep all the cards in the deck. If you were telling the truth, the player who accused you would have to take the deck. The first to get rid of all their cards wins. Drake won because he had a talent when it came to deception. Also, he looked innocent because he had just recently stopped crying, so his eyes were still red and wet and he sniffled occasionally. He used this to his advantage. When he lied and put down cards that he wasn't supposed to, he played it up by sniffling more or mustering up more water to make his eyes glisten pitifully. This way, the others would feel bad about accusing him of lying and were too scared to call bullshit. He won the next game as well and that's when Ernest caught on to his strategy and called him out. Needless to say, that was the end of his winning streak. Still, he had a lot of fun and it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders knowing that none of these people judged him or thought less of him because of what had happened to him.

At lunch, Drake sat with the guys again for another one of Ernest's story times. He noticed Daphne pause after she grabbed her tray of food. It was just for a second, but in that second, she looked lost and Drake saw this. Daphne had never really conversed with anyone other than Lois, so she felt isolated now that her friend was gone and the boy understood this. He called her over and saw her eyes light up at this. As they listened to Ernest talk about some ridiculous story about doing carpeting for a family who kept an alligator locked in a room he opened after mistaking it for the bathroom, the table filled with laughter and over time, the other patients and even Mrs. Cassandra migrated over to listen to Ernest's other wacky tales of his wild and eventful youth.

Recess was outside, which pleased everyone, even those who didn't smoke. There was a basketball goal, but the hoop was much closer to the ground than the one that hung from the ceiling in the gym. Drake played basketball with Marcus and Misty again, but Theo sat this one out, so Misty convinced Hero to join them. She had gorgeous dark brown skin that shined in the sun and her brown hair was shaved all the way down to her head. She had long, thin legs and bright, white teeth and she looked like a model, even without make-up since it was banned. Hero was so hot that Drake almost forgot about Dahlia when he looked at her. Suffice to say, he was hardcore crushing on the forty-two year old, so he was more than happy to be on her team when Misty called dibs on Marcus. Hero didn't reveal until after the game her and Drake won that she had played basketball professionally in college. Drake was awestruck.

Samantha and Brett came for visitation and he told them that he was in love. They laughed at this and then they all caught up on how things were going for each other. Dinner went by uneventfully, then it was time for their evening group therapy session. Drake had noticed that Theo seemed quieter today, which was saying something because Theo didn't talk a lot already. He assumed that his honesty in this morning's group session had made his new friend a bit uncomfortable around him, but he learned the true reason that evening, when, for the first time since his arrival, Theo spoke out during group therapy.

"It started when I was five," he said somberly. "I didn't understand it. It's so embarrassing when I think back on it because I used to be so prideful. She always told me that I was special — that it was our little secret. She liked me better than my sisters and that's what I needed at the time. I was a middle child, so I always got overlooked...until Aunt Leigh came over. It went on for years and I never even realized that anything was wrong. I was nine the day Mom got home from a business trip early and caught us...caught her...touching me. Somehow, in that moment, when her eyes met my eyes...I just knew that what had been happening was wrong. Everything was so different after that. I withdrew into myself. I've been in and out of counseling my whole life, but I never would talk about it. It was like...it was still mine and Aunt Leigh's secret and I continued to keep it even after everyone found out about it. I've held on to that secret for years, but after...after Drake had the courage to share his story...I thought...maybe...finally...someone else would understand."

Cassandra commented on his bravery just like she did to anyone who talked about a tough subject, then she opened the floor for conversation. He was offered support. Theo wasn't crying, which Drake thought was crazy because Drake was crying. He wouldn't wish the kind of abuse he had gone through on his worst enemy and he especially hated that Theo knew what it felt like.

After group therapy, the two boys sat next to one another for movie time. Neither one mentioned what had been said in today's meetings — neither one wanted to — but they both felt comfort in knowing that the door was now open if they needed someone to talk to about their experiences.

As the days passed, more and more people got released and were replaced with new people until all that was left of the old crew were Drake and Theo. After their day of progressive group therapy sessions, both boys continued to participate and show signs of progress and were released four days later. They swapped numbers, then Theo, whose ride arrived half an hour earlier, went through the process of checking out.

Drake wasn't exactly sure that he felt much different now than he had before arriving, but they told him that the medicine would take roughly a couple weeks to a month to get into his system. He just had to stick it out until then and hope that the medicine came through for him.

"How's it feel to be a free man?" Ricardo asked when Drake stepped out the doors.

It had rained earlier, so the ground was wet and they passed puddles left and right as they crossed the parking lot. The sun was shining brightly through the rain clouds and the air was thick and humid. Drake carried one of his paper bags and Ricky had the other. His eyes moved down to the band around his wrist, which had been apart of him for the last nine days. It had taken a while to adjust to being in the hospital, but after he'd warmed up to it, he'd found that it wasn't so bad. He'd made a great friend and he'd even become accustomed to waking up so early and being on a schedule and seeing the same people everyday. He was sure he would miss them and he'd miss the nurses and he'd miss the common room. Being there was like having a break from everything, but it was time to join the real world again and he felt ready. He missed Ricardo and he missed Julio and he missed his friends and his cats and his bed.

"I'm a little nervous," Drake admitted, "but I think things are gonna be better," he said.

Ricardo gave him a smile. "That's good. That's really good."

He unlocked his car and they put the bags in the backseat, then got inside. Ricardo cranked the vehicle and as he put on his seat belt, Drake searched for a radio station. After he found one playing The Rolling Stones, he sat back in his seat. He was really glad to be going home. He missed his cats to death. He closed his eyes, then he drew in a slow breath...released it...

It took a few seconds for him to realize that the car still wasn't moving. He turned his head to Ricardo questioningly and saw the man's cocked brow. "What?" He already knew before he even asked. "Fine. Seriously?" He reached for the radio and pressed a button to change it to one of the man's saved stations. "You know, the real reason I tried to kill myself is because I got so tired of hearing your shit fucking music. I would've thought that having to spend the last couple of months jumping from one hospital to the other would have given you enough compassion to let me pick the radio station for once."

"Turns out I can be just as selfish as you sometimes."

"Prick."

Ricardo smiled and pretty soon, he started laughing when Drake sarcastically and obnoxiously starting rapping along to the so-called "trash" on the radio. It was good to have him back.

---

Author's Note: Lemme start off by responding to those who reviewed last chapter. 1. Guest who loves Dee — Yes, I adore him, too! I'ma need him and Ricardo to fix their shit. 2. Guest who wrote the long review — Thanks for taking the time to offer your comments/criticisms. I always appreciate it. I'm glad the Crisis Text Line joke made someone laugh because I'm never sure if the humor in some things is coming off right. I think I'm funny sometimes, but I don't know because writing a joke is different than verbally giving one. Also, I'm glad the suicide conversation between Julio and Mrs. Hayfer was something you liked enough to mention specifically because it's such a small part that I tend to overlook and not really care much for, but now I can see it differently thanks to your words. 3. Guest who liked the chapter — Thanks so much for taking the time to share your thoughts and compliment my work! You're sweet.

Okay, now that that's done. Soooo what did y'all think of the new character Theo? I like him, but I tend to like all my characters, I guess. This won't be the last time we see him. That's for sure.

Here's what's coming up in the next chapter: a possible new romance, a returning character, a failing friendship and two emotional confessions. Plus, it'll be Drake's birthday, which you guys should know by now means something bad will happen.

This past week has been a rough one and I haven't had much time to write, so if you could leave a review, that would make me feel better, at least for a little while. Thanks for still reading this series after so fucking long. Geez.