winter in june

,,,,,,

Winter in June. by Katie Moses [[Next->introduction - 01]]

... “Hey there sweetie, you ready to wake up yet? We’d love to see you at breakfast.” You roll over in bed, glancing down at the woman standing near the doorway. Her scrubs are colorful and she’s got a clipboard in her hands. She looks at the other bed and writes something down, then leaves. She’s right, you should get out of bed. Food sounds [[awfully good->wake up - 0.0.1]]. Then again, the last two days have been horrible. It wouldn’t hurt to keep [[sleeping->sleep in - 0.0.2]]. (set:$group to false) (set:$sleepin to false) (set:$hygeine to false) (set:$room to false) (set:$breakfast to false) (set:$parents1 to false) (set:$parents2 to false) (set:$parents3 to false)

When was the last time you ate? Oh, right. Fucking forever ago. You drag yourself out of bed and, just as you're about to slip on your flip flops, you reach for the provided socks instead. . A glance towards your roommate tells you she’s still fast asleep. Their attendant waves at you. You don’t know how to respond. You shuffle out into the hallway, and take a look up and down the hall. It’s actually somewhat lively for nine in the morning. Most of the middle-aged or elderly people are out milling about. Several of them already appear to be lined up by the doors at the (link-reveal:"end of the hall.")[ A lady stands at the front of everyone, a different lady with another clipboard. One of the other employees nods at her and the double doors click open. “Alright, everyone single file please.” Immediately, everyone follows her through the doors and squeezes into the (link-reveal:"elevator.")[ A few floors down, and everyone is following her like a bunch of kindergarteners with some invisible rope. The cafeteria is much smaller than you expected, nothing like the dining hall at school. There’s a few scattered tables and a small food line, it certainly looks as though they’re only serving one kind of food. You continue to [[follow->breakfast - 0.1.1]] the others, unsure what is really going on at this point.]]

Breakfast doesn’t sound appealing whatsoever. Given that you didn’t sleep at all the night before, this easily sounds like the best option. You choose to roll over and continue sleeping. It isn’t until sometime later that same woman is at the food of your bed, speaking. It’s astounding she didn’t try and wake you up every time she walked in. “It’s group time, are you coming to group?” What the fuck is group? Skipping breakfast probably wasn’t a good look, maybe it would be a good idea to go out and [[explore->hallway - 0.0.3]] a little bit. Then again, you [[smell->hygeine - 0.1.5]] pretty awful. (set:$sleepin to true)

Needless to say, bagged eggs were not that great. By the time you get back from breakfast, everyone appears to be awake now and shuffles off to their rooms. The lady who woke you up that morning is still shuffling about, and says hello to you. "They're having group soon in the tv room, you should join in." Why does everyone want you to do stuff all the time? Is there [[no downtime->room - 0.1.6]]? Maybe they're right, [[group->group - 0.1.3]] might be a good idea. You might get to leave sooner. (set:$breakfast to true)

The TV room really isn’t much to brag about. It’s almost like someone dropped a corporate meeting room, but gave everyone uncomfortable all-plastic chairs (//just like the ones in your room//) and a random, kinda shitty TV near the entrance. There’s a whiteboard with an agenda scribbled on. Oh look, ‘group activity’ is listed for right now. A 20-something year old comes in with a stack of paper and a (link-reveal:"tray of markers.")[ She doesn't really say anything, she doesn't even tell everyone what's happening now, she just sort of sits down next to everyone. other people immediately grab the papers and start coloring frantically. another woman in scrubs stands there, muttering and writing names on clipboards. "Good to see you're participating Cody," she tells another kid. He glares at her. You grab a marker and a piece of paper and start coloring. It seems like the right thing to do. Eventually, the nice lady collects all the markers and leaves. It appears the group activity has [[ended.->between - 0.1]] (set:$group11 to true)]

Sleeping in might have made you feel better temporarily, but there’s still a gross feeling rotting in the pit of your stomach. Or is that just your teeth? Usually your hygiene is one of the few things you have control over, one of the few things you never go without-- not even for finals or something. The idea of a warm shower sounds so relaxing to you. When you round the corner and see the bathroom, you remember the harsh reality of no door. It’s just a flimsy curtain. Is it [[worth it?->hygiene - 0.1.5.1]] Your teeth are way grosser than your body anyways, and that bad breath is such an attitude killer. You can’t have [[bad breath->hygiene - 0.1.5.2]] if you get visitors. (set:$hygiene to true)

What even is there to do in this fucking hell hole? It’s just one long massive hallway of nothingness. You could go to group, you could go shower, you could do anything. Instead, you find yourself in bed. Just laying there. Nothing, doing nothing. There’s no sun, there’s only silence in the room. You look over, someone has closed the blinds. The outside world has disappeared. [[What's the point?->between - 0.1]] (set:$room to true)

Everyone's lined up by the double doors waiting patiently and impatiently. It's a weird routine, waiting for everyone who has clearance to go downstairs and pass through the elevator. There's this long hallway between the elevator and the cafeteria, and it's so pretty. The ceiling and the walls are mostly windows, letting in all this sunlight. There's a garden on the other side of the glass, flowers of blue and red blooming like they should be in June. The line stops. The cafeteria doors open, and you're back to that grey shuffled feeling. The light is gone. Quietly, you move into the lunch line and wait for your (link-reveal:"plate of slop.")[ Lunch was awfully boring. You sat with people, but you didn't actually know any of them. It felt depressing, it felt forced, it just felt like a meal. Once you ride back up the elevator, everyone scatters off to their spaces. It seems you missed group, and time is slowly [[ticking onward.->between - 0.2]]]

The TV Room is pretty empty, with just a few stragglers here and there. The person leading the group activity comes in, she looks like she could barely be a few years older than you. She’s got a guitar in her hand, and a bunch of instruments on a crate. //You’re joking.// It begins with her passing instruments to everyone, and somehow you end up with a triangle. Others look absurdly excited to play music, other looks just as unamused as you do. She then passes out booklets with songs and lyrics. Others begin asking about songs, and she goes onto some big mumbo jumbo about how music is so important for the (link-reveal:"//healing process.//")[ It feels like a movie. Everyone is sitting around, banging their instruments and bursting ear drums, singing the one and only: One Love by Bob Marley. It’s surreal. You want to (link-reveal:"go home.")[ After group is finished, the group leader packs up and starts to say [[goodbye.->groupPost - 0.2.3.1]] “Ooh, it looks like visiting hours are coming up. I hope you all have a good time!” She smiles and leaves.]] (set:$group12 to true)

As you're walking into your room, there's the same lady who woke you up standing there. She briefly smiles at you, before leaving the room. you consider closing the door for a moment, but realize it's probably pointless. They'll just open it again. You crawl into bed and pull the thin blanket over your body. Across the room your roommate is still in bed and hasn't moved. There's one of the ladies just sitting on the floor next to her, quietly talking. It's weird, she's always in here with your roommate, even late at night. They're talking about something strange, some murders that happened a few years ago. "...yeah, this kid was only fifteen. He completely butchered the girl, it was just horrible." Wow, she’s actually talking, maybe it'd be good to make do with your roommate. [[Make a little conversation->roomYes - 0.2.6.1]], then things wouldn't be so awkward. But murder? Weird topic when you're [[trying to nap.->roomNo - 0.2.6.2]]

You sit there in the silence of the room. Meanwhile, your mind is exploding with thoughts. The guilt of this is practically seeping out of you. There was one question, one moment they didn’t understand, that was swirling around over and over and over. (link-reveal:"Why didn’t you just say no?")[ No is such a big word. No is a lie, no meant you would have denied the cry for help you were being offered. Everything you’d been doing, the texts you’d sent, the people you’d avoided-- it was all a cry for help. It was all meant to lead to this one moment, they put you exactly where you expected to be put. Why are you surprised? You can’t stand to be in this room any longer. You stand up and return to your room, [[ready to sleep.->sleep 0.4.1]]]

<p class="noselect">You have a brief pause in your day. A pause in activities, a pause in thoughts, a moment where your mind slips and falls into the (link-reveal:"day before yesterday.")[ … They’re both sitting on your floor, staring at you. They won’t stop staring at you. You can’t make eye contact. Everything in your room is half-packed. After all, you’re leaving in a week, you had to start at some point. You’re hoping she doesn’t see your weed pen on the desk. The tiniest part of you knows that shouldn’t be your biggest worry, but you can’t give in to that dark hole. “Your friend was worried about you, and I’ve been worried about you. I just wanted to come and check in on you.” //No.// You were about to go to bed. It was about to be fine, (link-reveal:"everything was going to be fine.")[ “Can you tell me how you’ve been feeling lately?” Angry.(click-replace:"Angry.")[Sad.](click-replace:"Sad.")[Lonely.](click-replace:"Lonely.")[Worried.](click-replace:"Worried.")[Stressed.](click-replace:"Stressed.")[Anxious.](click-replace:"Anxious.")[Scared.](click-replace:"Scared.")[Depressed.](click-replace:"Depressed.")[Suicidal.] … (live:15s)[You’re back in the hallway. Someone is standing there, looking as though she’s about to [[say something.->betweenCont - 0.21]]]]]</p>

Was it seriously about to be the afternoon? It feels like you just started, but it feels like it’s been forever. Time was shaping up to be an [[inconsistent bitch.->betweenCont - 0.11]](if:$sleepin is true)[ No matter how much sleep you get, you still feel sluggish. You’re not at home, everything is out of place. They won’t stop checking on you.](if:$hygiene is true)[ Even when you were in the bathroom, behind a thin curtain, you couldn’t get away. How is this supposed to be healthy? The sheer lack of privacy is enough to drive someone insane. Well, more insane.](if:$group11 is true)[ What the fuck even was the weird group activity?](if:$breakfast is true)[ Your eyes are still drooping down, threatening to drag you back into bed-- a space where you’ll be judged and no more at peace than you would awake. Admittedly, the food sucked. But you did notice one of the ladies with a clipboard smiling and writing things down as you were leaving for breakfast. Is that a good sign? They seem to like participation, for whatever reason.](if:$room is true)[ A part of you wants to find the bright side and think about the peace and quiet you found in your room. But there was none, your brain is so exhausted you can barely think.] (set:$sleepin to false) (set:$hygiene to false) (set:$breakfast to false) (set:$room to false)

“Do you have a plan?” “No.” “Do you have any means?” “A bottle of pills in my drawer.” **//[[Instant regret.->beginning - 0.0.02]]//**

The words are seared into your brain. The moment playing over and over and over in your mind. It’s been six hours. Six hours since you sat in your room getting interrogated. Five hours since a police officer lied to you. Four hours since they took your only source of contact. One hour since the strange boy down the hall started watching you. He hasn’t stopped. //I want to go home. I don’t want to be here anymore. It's [[midnight->beginning - 0.0.03]].//

In five hours, your parents will be waking up for breakfast. Waking up to see you. They don’t know yet. You’re sitting alone in the room with the phone, trying with everything in you to just pick it up and call them, tell them. But you don’t want to disappoint them. As soon as you pick up the fucking phone, it becomes real. Everything becomes a reality and you’re stuck in this mess. [[Don’t pick up the phone->beginning - 0.0.04]].

You find yourself sitting in a small room, complete with one other chair, a door, and a window both facing outwards into a long hallway. You can’t move, your legs aren’t responding. Panic rises in your throat, as your instincts kick in to (link-reveal:"call for help.")[ Your mouth opens, but there are (link-reveal:"no words.")[ Suddenly, there he is. The boy you’ve always seen- the one who stares at you on the bus, the one watching you in the dining hall, the one walking behind you to class. They were all the same. Any one of them would kill to be in this room right now, gently closing the door behind them, (link-reveal:"sitting in the chair.")[ He seems to think his words taste like honey, as he tries to scoot closer with each glance at you. Well, not your face. But he’s wrong. Each word makes you want to cry, each compliment makes you wish you could die right there-- (link-reveal:"death would surely be better than this.")[ You try to smile. You try to scoot away. You try to move, but all he sees is a smile. [[Everything fades away in an instant.->sleep - 1.0.0]]]]]]

In the hallway, it appears to be a bit more lively than you expected. A few more of the ladies in scrubs walk up and down the halls. One of the older guys walks by and says good morning, but you choose to not respond You walk towards the tv room, your adhesive socks making a //plop// with each step. At the end of the hallway, there’s a desk with a woman typing on a computer. It’s one of those desks they have in doctor’s waiting rooms, where it’s sectioned off from the patients but there’s a window where you can speak with them. She looks at you. “Group is starting, were you interested?” Oh god, no. Not at all. She keeps staring at you, she doesn’t seem to want to look away. She points to your left, where the [[TV Room awaits->group - 0.1.3]]. (set:$sleepin to true)

At 3am, the strange boy comes into your room. He calls you pretty. There are no words that can describe what you’re feeling. You are [[numb->beginning - 0.0.05]].

At 5am, you call your parents. They sound tired. They sound stressed. You begin to feel even [[worse->beginning - 0.0.06]].

At 11am, they take you away. It’s an hour long drive. You spend the entire time watching the sunlight over the highway, wishing you were [[anywhere else->beginning - 0.0.07]].

At 1pm, they process you. They take your phone. They ask if your bra has a wire. They take your bra. They ask you the same fifty fucking questions the other place asked you. They bring you a ham sandwich and tell you it’s time for the [[strip search->beginning - 0.0.08]].

You can’t help it, the tears are just there. The nurse laughs, and asks, “[[Why are you crying?->sleep - 0.0.0]]”

This is a trigger warning. Please be advised this game centers around themes of adult language, sexual harassment, suicidal ideation, depression, and anxiety. [[Continue with care.->introduction - 02]]

This game is very important to me. I appreciate you taking the time to play it. [[Begin.->beginning - 0.0.01]]

You take a shower. A gross, shoeless and communal shower. It feels refreshing, but you don’t really feel clean. After a few minutes you hear a voice from the room, “Hey sweetie, are you okay in there?” “Yes. I’m fine.” You sigh, turn the shower off, and [[dry off.->between - 0.1]]

Fuck. You realize your toothbrush is in the locker down the hallway. You have to ask someone to get it for you. You peek your head into the hallway and catch the eyes of one of the women. "Hey uh, can I grab my toothbrush and stuff?" "Of course!" You follow her down the hall, back to the double doors. It seems awkward to wait there, people up and down the hall stare at you as if trying to brush your teeth is some kind of sin. She reaches to her waist, grabs one of a dozen keys, opens your designated locker, and hands you your things. "Just remember to bring that back once you're done." She smiles. You nod and walk off. a few minutes later you find yourself back next to the locker, feeling the eyes on you. another nod of thanks, and you [[back down->between - 0.1]] the hall.

You find yourself in the hallway again, looking up and down at the others. It seems most of the others are ‘old’, likely somewhere in their 40s or 50s with a few surpassing that. There’s not many people your age, aside from maybe two or three other late teens or twenty-somethings. There has to be some other place where they keep the actual teenagers. Wow. This is the weirdest wake-up call for age you’ve ever gotten. "Will either of you be joining us for lunch?" Clipboard lady came back, again. She’s looking at you and some other twenty-something. They give her a gross look and walk off, seemingly going towards the [[TV Room.->group - 0.2.3]] Maybe it’s good to just [[go to lunch.->lunch - 0.2.1]] You’re already hungry.(if:$breakfast is true)[ Breakfast wasn’t even that feeling.] Then again, you could just ignore the stupid clipboard lady and [[go back to your room.->room - 0.2.6]] If you were lucky, your roommate would be gone by now.

//I just want some earbuds and some decent music.// There’s nothing to do, nothing to listen to, and nobody to talk to. Your brain feels emptier than it ever has before. What are you supposed to think about? (link-reveal:"Getting out.")[ You find yourself in this weird game of how did I end up here? Who’s fault is it? You know exactly who’s fault this is. She’s the one who called the cops, she’s the one who knocked on your door, she’s the one who pried into your life when you were (link-reveal: "just fine.")[ (live:0.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:1s)[Iwasfine ](live:1.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:2s)[Iwasfine ](live:2.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:3s)[Iwasfine ](live:3.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:4s)[Iwasfine ](live:4.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:5s)[Iwasfine ](live:5.25s)[Iwasfine ](live:5.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:5.75s)[Iwasfine ](live:6s)[Iwasfine ](live:6.25s)[Iwasfine ](live:6.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:6.75s)[Iwasfine ](live:7s)[Iwasfine ](live:7.25s)[Iwasfine ](live:7.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:7.75s)[Iwasfine ](live:8s)[Iwasfine ](live:8.25s)[Iwasfine ](live:8.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:8.75s)[Iwasfine ](live:9s)[Iwasfine ](live:9.25s)[Iwasfine ](live:9.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:9.75s)[Iwasfine ](live:10s)[Iwasfine ](live:10.2s)[Iwasfine ](live:10.4s)[Iwasfine ](live:10.6s)[Iwasfine ](live:10.8s)[Iwasfine ](live:11s)[Iwasfine ](live:11.2s)[Iwasfine ](live:11.4s)[Iwasfine ](live:11.6s)[Iwasfine ](live:11.8s)[Iwasfine ](live:12s)[Iwasfine ](live:12.2s)[Iwasfine ](live:12.4s)[Iwasfine ](live:12.6s)[Iwasfine ](live:12.8s)[Iwasfine ](live:13s)[Iwasfine ](live:13.2s)[Iwasfine ](live:13.4s)[Iwasfine ](live:13.6s)[Iwasfine ](live:13.8s)[Iwasfine ](live:14s)[Iwasfine ](live:14.2s)[Iwasfine ](live:14.4s)[Iwasfine ](live:14.6s)[Iwasfine ](live:14.8s)[Iwasfine ](live:15s)[Iwasfine ](live:15.1s)[Iwasfine ](live:15.2s)[Iwasfine ](live:15.3s)[Iwasfine ](live:15.4s)[Iwasfine ](live:15.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:15.6s)[Iwasfine ](live:15.7s)[Iwasfine ](live:15.8s)[Iwasfine ](live:15.9s)[Iwasfine ](live:16s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.1s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.2s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.3s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.4s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.6s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.7s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.8s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.9s)[Iwasfine ](live:17s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.1s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.2s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.3s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.4s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.6s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.7s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.8s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.9s)[Iwasfine ](live:18s)[Iwasfine ](live:15s)[Iwasfine ](live:15.1s)[Iwasfine ](live:15.2s)[Iwasfine ](live:15.3s)[Iwasfine ](live:15.4s)[Iwasfine ](live:15.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:15.6s)[Iwasfine ](live:15.7s)[Iwasfine ](live:15.8s)[Iwasfine ](live:15.9s)[Iwasfine ](live:16s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.1s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.2s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.3s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.4s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.6s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.7s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.8s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.9s)[Iwasfine ](live:17s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.1s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.2s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.3s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.4s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.6s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.7s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.8s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.9s)[Iwasfine ](live:18s)[Iwasfine ](live:16s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.1s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.2s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.3s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.4s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.6s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.7s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.8s)[Iwasfine ](live:16.9s)[Iwasfine ](live:17s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.1s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.2s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.3s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.4s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.6s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.7s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.8s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.9s)[Iwasfine ](live:18s)[Iwasfine ](live:17s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.1s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.2s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.3s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.4s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.5s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.6s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.7s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.8s)[Iwasfine ](live:17.9s)[Iwasfine ](live:18s)[Iwasfine ] (live:18.5s)[[[Take a deep breath.->between - 0.2]]]]]

You roll over in bed, uncertain what to say to even inject yourself into this bizarre conversation. Your roommate and their attendant seems so invested in their conversation. Somehow, the attendant peaks over your roommate and peers over at you. "Are you alright? You know you can talk to me too, if you need to." //what does that even mean?// "I'm okay, thank you though." "Do you like dogs?" Somehow, you get roped into a long conversation about corgis, and more specifically your roommates corgi. They show you pictures of corgis from the internet, since they can't really get any pictures of their own corgi. You find yourself smiling a little, just a teeny bit, after talking to them. Things still feel strange, but you [[shrug it off.->between - 0.2]]

You welcome the attempt at silence. Your roommate keeps talking, going on about that morbid crap. But you're trying to sleep, trying to get just a few moments. The clipboard chick comes back in, glancing at the both of you and then walks out. God she's so fucking annoying, how often does she have to walk through here? The nap never comes. Instead you just lay there, staring at the ceiling. Watching her come in and out every so often. Listening to your roommate blab and blab. It makes you [[exhausted.->between - 0.2]]

“Alright everyone, it’s visiting hours. So if you’re expecting guests, come on over so you can meet them.” She’s there again, suddenly standing next to you. Oh god. [[Visiting hours.->visitorsYes - 0.3.7.1]] Is anyone coming for you? Or are you going to be forced to sit here and watch everyone see their family and friends? [[Do they even know you’re here?->visitorsNo - 0.3.7.2]]

//ohfuckohfuckohfuckohgodohdeargod.// You didn’t expect to cry when you saw your parents for the first time in-- what? Months? They look confused, stressed, and on high alert. You follow them into the TV Room, sitting together in the plastic chairs. They ask dozens of questions, immediately pulling into full-on parent mode. How did it happen? Who made the call? Why did it happen? Why didn’t you tell them? (link-reveal:"Why didn’t you tell them?")[ They asked that question many times. At some point, your dad briefly walked off, mentioning something about talking to one of the receptionists. Your mom rubs your back as you can’t help but cry. The entire visit goes by so quickly, and in a few topics it’s already over. Other people start leaving quietly, shuffling away through the double doors. Your parents look sad, they don’t want to go. You’re still their baby-- they want nothing but to protect you from this isolated bubble of hell. [[They leave.->tv room - 0.3.4]] (set:$parents1 to true)]

You peak your head into the hallway, watching as people shuffle down towards the double doors. Parents and children and friends and significant others come in by ones and twos, there’s smiles and awkward hugs and uncomfortable small talk. Small talk that you don’t get. You called them, you told them you were gonna be here, you told them what happened. It’s not like they could have misunderstood, you were so numb when you told them. (link-reveal:"So why aren’t they here?")[ ... After a while of watching and feeling awful, you sigh. This isn’t worth it. Instead, you turn away and decide you need to focus on something else. (if:$group is true)[It was nearing [[dinner time->dinner - 0.3.1]], perhaps you could distract yourself there.] Then again, [[hiding in your room->room - 0.3.6]] sounded a whole lot better. When do you get to go home?] (set:$parents1 to false) (set:$spiral036 to false)

In this moment, you crave the feeling of utter and pure exhaustion that leads to immediate sleep. You crave the post-all nighter sleep, the drunken extravaganza that precedes the moment you crawl under the covers. You crave anything that would make you feel exhausted enough to slip into sleep within moments. But you don’t even have pajamas on. Instead, you toss and turn. The mattress here is stiff, stiffer than the dorms. The same damn lady comes in and out, in and out. Your roommate is talking to your unofficial third roommate, still talking even now-- //quiet hours//. She’s talking, the lady’s shoes are squeaking on the linoleum floor. You eventually lose count of how many times she’s come in and out. [[Sleep->dreams - 0.5.1]] takes hours to show its face.

Just as you’re considering lining up for dinner, an awful wave of nausea forces itself over you. You feel as though your insides are turning and twisting, building up into just a bundle of knots. One of the ladies glances at you and mentions something about you looking awful. Well, clearly. “Maybe we should have dinner delivered, you go on and sit down.” You proceed to the TV Room and sit down. Just an hour before, everyone else was in here having a wonderful time and getting a taste of the outside world. If you could eat anywhere right now, what would it be? In-N-Out? Chipotle? That sounded too good. A loud rumble startles you from your hungry thoughts, and you look over to see a large cart with plastic trays and tray lids resting on it. A man sets them down on the table, “Hon, I think this is for you.” Your stomach twists further at his words, but you can’t deny your hunger. You slid the plastic over to yourself. “Just a reminder, please return to utensils when you’re done.” //Why would I take the utensils?// Oh, right. [[Cause I’m crazy.->room - 0.3.6]]

You find yourself back in your room, silent. Dinner was a bore, and there was obviously nothing good on the TV. There was nothing to //do// here other than sit in your thoughts. Why would anyone want to sit in silence like this? Everything in your brain is [[swirling.->spiral - 0.3.6.1]] (if:$spiral036 is true)[ Spiraling isn’t healthy. You have to be healthy, they need to see how healthy and happy you are. [[Hygiene->hygiene - 0.3.5]] is healthy, right? Maybe if you went to [[sleep now->early sleep - 0.4.2]], you’d wake up bright and early for breakfast. Happy people wake up early.]

Why did this happen to me? Why am I here? I just want to go home, I want to go back to normal-- I want to be in my dorm room by myself. Fuck this, fuck the scrubs, fuck this entire place. Why won’t they let me listen to my music? Everything here just makes my anxiety worse and worse and worse with each passing moment I just want music! I have my own coping mechanisms for a reason! Look, I know I’m depressed, I know I’m anxious, but I //know// how to deal with it. I don’t need some assholes telling me what to do. They’ve ripped me from society and it’s so awfully jarring. (link-reveal:"I just want to go home.")[ [[I feel like a prisoner.->room - 0.3.6]](set:$spiral036 to true) (live:0.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:1s)[Iwannagohome ](live:1.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:2s)[Iwannagohome ](live:2.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:3s)[Iwannagohome ](live:3.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:4s)[Iwannagohome ](live:4.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:5.25s)[Iwannagohome ](live:5.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:5.75s)[Iwannagohome ](live:6s)[Iwannagohome ](live:6.25s)[Iwannagohome ](live:6.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:6.75s)[Iwannagohome ](live:7s)[Iwannagohome ](live:7.25s)[Iwannagohome ](live:7.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:7.75s)[Iwannagohome ](live:8s)[Iwannagohome ](live:8.25s)[Iwannagohome ](live:8.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:8.75s)[Iwannagohome ](live:9s)[Iwannagohome ](live:9.25s)[Iwannagohome ](live:9.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:9.75s)[Iwannagohome ](live:10s)[Iwannagohome ](live:10.2s)[Iwannagohome ](live:10.4s)[Iwannagohome ](live:10.6s)[Iwannagohome ](live:10.8s)[Iwannagohome ](live:11s)[Iwannagohome ](live:11.2s)[Iwannagohome ](live:11.4s)[Iwannagohome ](live:11.6s)[Iwannagohome ](live:11.8s)[Iwannagohome ](live:12s)[Iwannagohome ](live:12.2s)[Iwannagohome ](live:12.4s)[Iwannagohome ](live:12.6s)[Iwannagohome ](live:12.8s)[Iwannagohome ](live:13s)[Iwannagohome ](live:13.2s)[Iwannagohome ](live:13.4s)[Iwannagohome ](live:13.6s)[Iwannagohome ](live:13.8s)[Iwannagohome ](live:14s)[Iwannagohome ](live:14.2s)[Iwannagohome ](live:14.4s)[Iwannagohome ](live:14.6s)[Iwannagohome ](live:14.8s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15.1s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15.2s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15.3s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15.4s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15.6s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15.7s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15.8s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15.9s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.1s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.2s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.3s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.4s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.6s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.7s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.8s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.9s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.1s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.2s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.3s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.4s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.6s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.7s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.8s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.9s)[Iwannagohome ](live:18s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15.1s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15.2s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15.3s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15.4s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15.6s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15.7s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15.8s)[Iwannagohome ](live:15.9s)[IIwannagohome ](live:16s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.1s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.2s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.3s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.4s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.6s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.7s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.8s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.9s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.1s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.2s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.3s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.4s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.6s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.7s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.8s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.9s)[Iwannagohome ](live:18s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.1s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.2s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.3s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.4s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.6s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.7s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.8s)[Iwannagohome ](live:16.9s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.1s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.2s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.3s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.4s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.6s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.7s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.8s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.9s)[Iwannagohome ](live:18s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.1s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.2s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.3s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.4s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.5s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.6s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.7s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.8s)[Iwannagohome ](live:17.9s)[Iwannagohome ](live:18s)[Iwannagohome ]]

You drag yourself out of bed and flag down the infamous clipboard lady. She walks over to the locker where your stuff is kept and retrieves the plastic toothbrush you were given at entry, she also hands you a small tube of toothpaste. “Bring it back when you’re done, please.” (link-reveal:"//What else would I do with it?//")[ You brush your teeth and return everything. You feel no different. You crawl into bed for an [[early sleep.->early sleep - 0.4.2]]]

Sleep doesn’t come easy. In fact, you have no idea how much time passes as you toss and turn. Your roommate seems to have fallen asleep with ease. The lady who’s on shift to watch them appears to be reading a book, using the long light that was being let into the room by the propped door. You’ve always been a light sleeper. Each tiny instance of light, each squeak of the clipboard lady’s shoes as she comes in and out, draw you from any possibility of slumber you could have imagined. The only time sleep decides to show up is when exhaustion takes over your body. Regardless of how active your mind is, your body seems to be unable to handle everything. You slip into [[unconsciousness.->dreams - 0.5.1]]

The squeak of her shoes, the shuffle of movement down the hall, the slam of double doors. It could have been any one of these sounds that woke you up, you have no idea. You groan and glance up at the door. She’s already been in and out, she’s made her rounds through the room and she’s moved on. //Thank fuck.// Your roommate is clearly still asleep. Why aren’t you? The desire to go back to sleep pulls at you, it begs you to return to the safety of nightmares. Sure, it wasn’t the best night’s sleep, but then again you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months. There’s no use, you’re already captive. What good would [[waking up->wake up - 1.0.1]] do for your discharge? The desire to sleep takes over, and pulls your head [[back to the pillow.->sleep in - 1.0.2]]

Okay. It’s the second morning and you’re still here. It’s time to get the fuck out of here. Immediately, your brain is running through every scenario-- what’s the best way to get discharged? Be happy. Be healthy. Look happy. Look healthy. First steps would be getting out of bed. Probably [[brushing your teeth->hygieneTeeth - 1.1.1.1]], right? You poke your head out into the hallway, it’s already nearly ten in the morning. Fuck, you missed breakfast. Was there another one of those [[group activities->group - 1.1.2]] going on?

The temptation to sleep is always immensely strong, but each and every time you find yourself slipping in and out of awfully vivid nightmares. Ever since you went away to college, it’s all you’ve known. You’ve tried vitamins, you’ve tried avoiding sleep altogether, and all that was left was to give up and let yourself become numb to them. That’s almost what happened. There’s no way for someone to become numb to the fresh hell your brain has in store for you. It’s there for //every// moment, good or bad, and there’s no way to avoid it’s vast knowledge of exactly how to fuck with you. But that doesn’t stop you from falling asleep for a few more hours, even if you do [[wake up scared->sleepInCont - 1.0.2.1]] a few times throughout.

Locker. It’s all in your stupid locker. The tiny metal box where they keep the //deadly// items like toothbrushes and deodorant sticks. That’s something you seriously don’t feel like doing. With a sigh, you steal a glance from the hallway. There isn’t really anyone around, maybe brushing your teeth isn’t all that worth it, especially if you have to //talk// to one of them. The clipboard people. [[Fuck it.->between - 1.1]] Your teeth will live. You’ll be out of here soon anyways.

You take a seat in one of the plastic chairs on the farthest corner, as far away from the group leader as possible. It’s some college intern, clearly here to do good for their community. You’re expectations can’t get any worse. Every movie, every tv show, has told you that this sucks. Hell, you didn’t even think they did these things.(if:$groupmusic is true)[ Seriously, that fucking music session yesterday? That was the absolute worst.] The group leader stands up and smiles at everyone. He passes out a piece of paper with several questions on it, then asks everyone to fill out it and (link-reveal:"sits back to watch.")[ He gets paid to do this? The paper is essentially a survey of your experience. Kind of like a Yelp review. How’s the food? How’s your roommate? Wanna shout out any nurses? Have you made any friends? How is group going? The tiniest part of you wants to be brutally honest, tell them this place sucks. It’s like a fucking prison. Every moment you sit in this tiny white hallway makes you wish you //had// (link-reveal:"killed yourself.")[ Instead, you sound happy. You want to leave, as soon as possible, so you make sure your experience sounds as happy as can be. The leader collects the papers and leaves shortly after that. Clipboard lady comes back in and thanks everyone for participating. [[Everyone is free to go.->between - 1.1]]]]

Eventually, she’s back. Her shrill voice is reminding you that it’s daytime, and normal fucking people get out of bed. “Are you gonna spend all day in bed today?” Maybe guilt tripping is how they heal people here. “You’re gonna miss group.” It’s official, you can’t avoid the day anymore. You give the lady a glare and roll out of bed. She did mention group, did you really haul your ass out of bed just to go sit in a [[stupid room->group - 1.1.2]] and talk about your feelings? No way, [[hygiene->hygieneShower - 1.1.1.2]] was way more important than bullshit. You seriously don’t want this place to be the reason you get cavities.

Uncertain what to do, you decide to take a seat in the hallway. The hallway appears to be the main space for foot traffic. It’s got a nice view of the intake desk, all the doors to people’s rooms including your own, and most of all-- a clear view of the doors to freedom. Two double doors, key activated only. First time you went through those doors you were strapped in. For safety measures, of course. They didn’t want you to fall between the ambulance and those doors. [[If only.->betweenCont - 1.11]]

You find yourself back at the reception desk, waiting patiently for the lady to hand you two small cups-- one with body soap, and one with shampoo. She smiles at you, and tells you to enjoy your shower. You nod, as if. You don't. It's nothing special. Maybe, just maybe if you close your eyes for long enough, you’ll feel at home. The dog is scratching at the door. Your sibling is in the next room over, laughing at something only they can see. Your dad is watching one of the half dozen streaming services he owns. Your mom is off in the kitchen, attempting to bake something entirely new for the day. (live:10s)[ "Are you okay in there?" Clipboard lady snatches you back into reality, your eyes shooting open as the water turns cold. "Yes. I'm fine." No, you're not. Nothing is. You don't belong here. [[You want to go home.->between - 1.1]] ]

Just as you’re enjoying your people watching, a small line begins to form by those two very same doors. Your stomach growls, reminding you that you slept through breakfast. If there’s one thing you can’t ever deny, it’s food. This time when the oh-so lovely woman in scrubs walks by and invites you to lunch, you feel the strong inclination to [[say yes.->lunch - 1.2.1]] Well, your stomach wants you too. All the while, this gross plastic chair appears to be comfortable. Maybe they’ll bring by a snack or something later, you [[wouldn’t mind waiting.->hallway - 1.2.2]]

It’s pretty simple for you to just hop right in line with the others. There's a man behind you is glancing around eagerly. “Is Tim coming? Should I go get Tim?” “Oh no, that’s alright. Thank you, Kenneth. We’ll get going in just a moment,” she somehow manages to brush off his eagerness to go find whoever the fuck Tim is. After another minute, the double doors click and push open. The lot of you walk down to the cafeteria together, and somehow you find yourself sitting at a table with one or two other (link-reveal:"barely-adults.")[ The conversation starts with how weird it is to be here. You don’t //feel// like an adult, yet you’re here stuffed with a bunch of 40 year olds. There are a few others who go to the same university as you, and you all share a moment of silence followed by nervous laughter for the finals you’re supposed to be taking. Somehow, lunch ended up being really nice. It felt good to relate to other people, and to understand that you’re not the //only// one who feels like a prisoner. It was a really good change of scenery. However, as you’re all returning from lunch, the group seems to scatter very quickly. (link-reveal:"Nice.")[ With a sigh, you assume your position at the [[plastic chair->hallway - 1.2.2]] in the hallway and return to people watching.]]

You sit there for a while, watching people walk back and forth. Clipboard lady walks by at least three times, and in what couldn’t have been more than a half hour. One of the guys, who can’t be but a few years older than you, gets called up by clipboard lady. She tells him he’s got a phone call on the pay phone. He picks it up pretty quickly. You’re trying not to eavesdrop, but it’s honestly difficult not to listen when he’s (link-reveal:"three feet from you.")[ He seems to be talking to a family member or something, maybe someone he lives with. The way he’s speaking makes your heart beat fast, and his voice starts rising. “--No-- why the fuck did you tell them that? I’m fine. Why would I fucking scare you? I just want to go home, I don’t fucking belong here anymore you (link-reveal:"bitch--”")[ His voice reaches a full-on scream, his face turning very red. The clipboard lady looks like she’s about to do something. Instead, he pulls the phone from his ear. It appears the other person has hung up. (link-reveal:"He slams the phone against the receiver.")[ His eyes connect with yours. There’s nothing but pure rage. You haven’t seen that kind of rage before. He turns away and starts punching the lockers, the wall, (link-reveal:"anything he can reach.")[ “Code blue, we have a code blue in Sequoia. All personnel please, code blue.” Multiple people start coming around from down the hall and behind the reception desk, all trying to grab him and start calming him down. Your heart is beating at least three times as fast. You can’t watch it, you can’t see someone breakdown like that-- but you can’t tear your eyes away. The noise of his fists on metal gets louder and louder and louder until you finally pull yourself away, [[retreating to your room.->room - 1.2.3]]]]]]

You’re too scared to move. You’re hiding underneath the covers in your room. But what’s the point? There’s nothing but a propped, wide-open door between you and that maniac. Are they all like that? Are they all just waiting to snap? If something that small can set someone off, what’s stopping them from doing that to you? //Don’t cry, don’t cry. Don’t you fucking dare cry.// You’re using so much of your emotional strength just to keep yourself from falling apart-- you don’t want to attract attention, and you certainly don’t want to talk to any of them about your feelings. Fuck no. You don’t [[trust //any// of them.->call - 1.2.5]]

Sometime later, her shoes are in your room, squeaking their way to a halt next to your bed. “Sweetie, you’ve got a phone call. Someone wants to talk to you.” Your stomach drops. The idea of going out there, into the hallway, terrifies you. What if he’s still angry? What if he wants to use the phone? What if someone else is like that? Besides-- who even got this number, who knows to ask for you? You haven’t talked to anyone other than your parents. (link-reveal:"Nobody should even //know// you’re in here.")[ Well. Except for the one who put you in here. //Nope.// No fucking way. Every natural instinct is telling you to [[stay in bed->callNo - 1.2.4.1]], stay away from that hallway and those people and the chance of talking to someone from the real world. [[//What if it’s my parents?//->callYes - 1.2.4.1]]]

You open your mouth to speak, to tell her off, but no words come out. Tears are forming in your eyes and you find yourself speechless. She sighs and leaves the room, the squeaking of her shoes following her. Nobody is coming for you. You are [[truly alone.->callNoCont - 1.2.4.1]]

You drag yourself out of bed and down the hallway. Your eyes are darting up and down, trying to figure if that guy is still there. Luckily, you don’t catch any sight of him. You walk up to the desk and tell them you’re waiting for a call. Without so much as looking at you, the lady points to the phone on the wall, and right then it starts ringing. (link-reveal:"You answer the phone.")[ “Hello? Did it work?” Your heart skips a beat upon recognizing that voice. It’s your sibling. They sound irritated and worried, and slightly muffled. It had been ages since you last saw them- was that Spring break? Christmas? It felt like a million years ago. (link-reveal:"The line went dead.")[ Their voice swallowed by a loud beeping noise. You put the phone back slowly, and began the walk back to your room. Nobody is coming for you. You are [[truly alone.->between - 1.2]]]]

(css:"font-size:10pt")[(live:0.5s)[(text-style:"shudder")[(text-style:"blurrier")[NOBODY LOVES YOU NOBODY CARES YOU'RE ALONE]]]] (css:"font-size:11pt")[(live:1s)[(text-style:"blurrier")[(text-style:"shudder")[NOBODY LOVES YOU NOBODY CARES YOU'RE ALONE]]]] (css:"font-size:12pt")[(live:1.5s)[(text-style:"blurrier")[(text-style:"shudder")[NOBODY LOVES YOU NOBODY CARES YOU'RE ALONE]]]] (css:"font-size:13pt")[(live:2s)[(text-style:"blurrier")[(text-style:"shudder")[NOBODY LOVES YOU NOBODY CARES YOU'RE ALONE]]]] (css:"font-size:14pt")[(live:2.5s)[(text-style:"shudder")[(text-style:"blurrier")[NOBODY LOVES YOU NOBODY CARES YOU'RE ALONE]]]] (css:"font-size:15pt")[(live:3s)[(text-style:"blur")[(text-style:"shudder")[NOBODY LOVES YOU NOBODY CARES YOU'RE ALONE]]]] (css:"font-size:16pt")[(live:3.5s)[(text-style:"shudder")[(text-style:"blur")[NOBODY LOVES YOU NOBODY CARES YOU'RE ALONE]]]] (css:"font-size:17pt")[(live:4s)[(text-style:"blur")[(text-style:"shudder")[NOBODY LOVES YOU NOBODY CARES YOU'RE ALONE]]]] (css:"font-size:18pt")[(live:4.5s)[(text-style:"shudder")[(text-style:"blur")[NOBODY LOVES YOU NOBODY CARES YOU'RE ALONE]]]] (css:"font-size:19pt")[(live:5s)[(text-style:"blur")[(text-style:"shudder")[NOBODY LOVES YOU NOBODY CARES YOU'RE ALONE]]]] (css:"font-size:20pt")[(live:5.5s)[(text-style:"shudder")[NOBODY LOVES YOU NOBODY CARES YOU'RE ALONE]]] (css:"font-size:21pt")[(live:6s)[(text-style:"shudder")[NOBODY LOVES YOU NOBODY CARES YOU'RE ALONE]]] (css:"font-size:22pt")[(live:6.5s)[(text-style:"shudder")[NOBODY LOVES YOU NOBODY CARES YOU'RE ALONE]]] (css:"font-size:22pt")[(live:7s)[NOBODY LOVES YOU NOBODY CARES YOU'RE ALONE]] (live:8s)[[[//Oh.//->between - 1.2]]]

You find yourself under the covers again, [[unable to move.->between - 1.21]] //The whole world is failing me. I’ve been begging for help for weeks, and it just keeps letting me down.//

(if: $parents1 is true)[You’re so exhausted. You would give anything to see your parents again. They actually showed up too, which is a lot more than you can say for everyone else in your life. You have the added benefit of having two nurses for parents, so they usually know how to deal with administrative crap like this. They’ll know how to get you out-- right? ](if: $parents1 is false)[Each passing minute is another moment where you’re alone. Nobody is coming for you. There’s some TA out there who’s marking you absent, giving you a zero. Your boss is out there not caring where she sent you. Your friends have washed their hands of any worry about you-- they did their due diligence, you’re not dead. It’s officially not their problem. //You’re// not their problem. ] As you’re sitting there, deep in thought, a voice from down the hall rings out, “It’s visiting hours! Come by if you’re expecting someone.” (if: $parents1 is true)[Would they really make the trip here two days in a row? ](if: $parents1 is false)[They didn’t come yesterday, there’s no way they’d come today.] (if:$parents1 is true)[Your roommate glances over. “I never get visitors. Are you [[expecting someone?->visitorsYes2 - 1.3.7.2]]” She appears to be looking directly at you, speaking solely to you-- feels weird.](if:$parents1 is false)[Your roommate glances over. “I never get visitors. Are you [[expecting someone?->visitorsYes1 - 1.3.7.1]]” She appears to be looking directly at you, speaking solely to you-- feels weird.] [[“No, I don’t think anyone is coming.”->visitorsNo - 1.3.7.3]]

Your parents are exactly who you needed, again. They come and sit with you in the TV Room, the whole lot of you tucked away in a corner. Your mom brought you a coloring book, along with new sweatpants and a sweatshirt. They are very large, but it feels much better than the same, solid blue shirt you and everyone else in here are wearing. “I’m sorry they’re the thick markers, they wouldn’t let me bring in the thin markers.” You nod, you’re still endlessly grateful for the thought. (link-reveal:"“Do you want to color now?”")[ You and your mom pull out the markers and the coloring book. It’s full of flowers and plants, but it isn’t one of those “adult” coloring books so it’s pretty easy with the large markers. Your mom asks you questions about the food and the other people. (link-reveal:"“Have you been participating?”")[ “Not really. This place makes my anxiety way worse than usual.” “What do you usually do for your anxiety?” You tell her more about your anxiety attacks. It’s hard to explain, but you tell her how important music is to keep you from drifting too much. It grounds you in a whole new space, and keeps you from letting your thoughts spiral off a cliff. At some point, your dad interjects. (link-reveal:"“Have they given you any medication?”")[ “No. I haven’t seen a doctor or anything like that.” His expression changes from concern to anger, then he stands up and walks off. [[“Your dad isn’t handling this very well.”->TV RoomP2 - 1.3.4.2]]]]] (set:$parents2 to true)

Just as you suspected, nobody’s there. Two days in a row in this hell hole, and nobody cares. With each passing minute, you feel as though you’re getting worse and worse. What does any of this matter? If there were one moment to show that they cared about you-- this would be it. This would be the shining moment. But nobody showed up. You retreat to your room again, and remain there for the rest of the evening. The better part of you wants to cry, you want to grieve the loss of your mental health-- the loss of your trust. But you have no tears left to give. You are simply exhausted. They call for dinner, and you don’t move. They ask the visitors to leave, and you don’t move. They call for lights out, and [[you don’t move.->early sleep - 1.4.2]] (set:$visitors2 to false)

The moment you see your parents, you feel like you could cry. They’re wearing outside people clothes, they’re frowning and they’re practically carrying exhaustion around. You follow them into the TV Room, sitting together in the plastic chairs. They ask dozens of questions, immediately pulling into full-on parent mode. How did it happen? Who made the call? Why did it happen? Why didn’t you tell them? (link-reveal:"Why didn’t you tell them?")[ They asked that question many times. At some point, your dad briefly walked off, mentioning something about talking to one of the receptionists. Your mom rubs your back as you can’t help but cry. You have the strongest desire to ask them where they were yesterday, why they didn’t come then. But you can’t bring yourself to bother them, you already feel like an inconvenience. After all, they’re here-- over three-hundred miles from home-- just to visit you. You shouldn’t bother them with your (link-reveal:"stupid anxiety.")[ The entire visit goes by so quickly, and in a few topics it’s already over. Other people start leaving quietly, shuffling away through the double doors. Your parents look sad, they don’t want to go. You’re still their baby-- they want nothing but to protect you from this isolated bubble of hell. You feel yourself holding back, you feel nervous, you’re not sure where your //trust// has disappeared too. [[They leave.->TV RoomP1 - 1.3.4.1]]]] (set:$parents2 to true) (set:$spiral1341 to false)

You sit there in silence and try to piece through your feelings. You feel as though you could continue crying through the night. On one hand, you’re so grateful to have finally seen your parents, on the other-- where the fuck were they? Your heart is full, but full enough to sink further into your chest. What is this familiar feeling? (link-reveal:"//Oh.//")[ (if:$spiral1341 is false)[Your brain recalls and remembers, and instantly finds itself [[in a spiral->spiral - 1.3.6.1]]. It’s twisting and turning and going down long, familiar hallways. You can’t help it, the thoughts and memories are just tumbling down like dominos.]] (if:$spiral1341 is true)[You get up, and walk [[back to your room->room - 1.3.6]] for the evening.]

The visit ends not long after, and your parents are gone again. You’re left alone in the TV Room, just coloring. You’re so deep in the coloring book, you accidentally forget about dinner. Instead, you’re thinking about what your parents said. Medication? You hadn’t spoken to anyone about that or a diagnosis since you got here. They just… put you here. That fucking cop (link-reveal:"lied.")[ //No.// This wasn’t voluntary, you didn’t get to walk away whenever you wanted. You sure as hell weren’t able to come in, talk about trying medication, and get out. It had been over forty-eight hours since you were told that bullshit, and yet nobody had seen you. Surely a consultation had to be some kind of requirement in here? It only made you angier and [[angier.->room - 1.3.6]]]

Somehow, the insomnia isn’t reaching you this time. You’re just barely freed from it’s grasp. Instead, you find yourself drifting off into dreamland. Well, [[nightmare-land->dreams - 1.5.1]] might be a better term for it.

You are woken by the vibrating of your phone, gently shaking your entire mattress. You roll over and pick up the phone, briefly seeing //Dad// on the screen. “Hey dad. Have you left yet?” You're groggy, but you’re immediately excited. “Hey, kiddo. Sorry if I woke you up.” Instinctively, you shake your head, but he can’t see. “There’s an issue with your car, the window won’t roll up, and I want to get that fixed before I bring it up to you. It looks like I’m not gonna make it this weekend.” (set:$spiral1341 to true) [[Your heart drops.->spiralCont - 1.3.6.2]]

The lady walks in, just as you’re crawling into bed. She glances over at you, then your roommate, and squeaks away. You pull the covers all the way up. You can feel your whole body sinking into the mattress, and the exhaustion of multiple anxiety fests waves over you. Sleep, apparently, is much easier this time. But you don’t //feel// at peace. You don’t feel the simple satisfaction of a productive day, the excitement for a new day, and the plans for a future. As you’re lying there, you don’t even consider a future outside of freedom. There is only here, and not here. Fuck, [[you wish->sleep - 1.4.1]] you weren’t here.

sleepin = boolean, did you sleep in on day 1? hygiene = boolean, did you do hygiene on day 1? breakfast = boolean, did you eat breakfast on day 1? room = boolean, did you stay in your room on day 1? parents1 = boolean, did your parents visit on day 1? parents2 = boolean, did your parents visit on day 2? parents3 = boolean, did your parents visit on day 3? spiral036 = first day evening spiral spiral1341 = second day spiral evening

Sleep doesn’t come easy. You can feel the insomnia creeping up on you, following your tosses and turns, following your thoughts. It encompasses everything you know. Your body is exhausted, it wants to give it. It’s //begging// to give in. Your brain keeps going. It circles around so many topics, it hurts. Not just emotionally, but it physically hurts your head how many things it wants to be thinking of. Your brain is branching off into its own entity, and you can’t fucking stop it. It’s unleashed, it’s ravenous, and all it needs is to //feed off your anxiety.// Your hands are shaking, [[you can’t stop it->dreams - 1.5.1]]. YOUCANTSTOPITYOUREUNFIT

You look at the clock. It’s three in the morning. How long have you been here? When did they knock on your door? It felt like a million years ago. It was an entire world ago, wrapped up in a few hours. Each minute that passed felt like ten, twenty, thirty. Time was moving at its slowest possible pace. //I need to get out.// Breakfast was in five hours. You told them they could pick you up in five hours. You cannot miss breakfast. If you missed breakfast, they would know something was wrong. They cannot know anything is wrong. You’re the good kid, you’re the one in college, you’re the resident assistant, you’re the mentally stable one-- [[Wait, are you?->dreams - 1.5.2]]

You’re rocking back and forth. You’ve been hugging your legs to your chest for the better part of three hours. You keep looking at the phone, out the window, and back at the ground in a somewhat cycle. Your brain has nothing to do, nothing to ponder or consider-- except for how you ended up here. How did you end up in an uncomfortable chair across from a social worker who told you you’re clinically depressed? //Trust me, I knew that.// Your brain aches. Your feet hurt. Your eyes are tired. //I want to go home. I need to study.// You can’t focus on anything but the [[what if.->suicide - 1.5.3.1]]

Around four-thirty, your brain enters familiar territory. //Why did I have to open my mouth?// You could have just left it alone. You could have said you were busy, you could have left them on read. You didn’t need to use the word suicide You could have just walked away, you could have gone on a long walk and never came back. (link-reveal:"You could have just killed yourself.")[ It’s the everlasting dance your brain does with the concept. It feeds you phrases like (link-reveal:"//I want everything to stop//")[ and (link-reveal:"//I wish I didn’t exist//")[ constantly until it feels familiar. Eventually, when you feel safe, it throws you for a loop by considering ways you could die. (link-reveal:"//Would I die if I jumped off this bridge?//")[ (link-reveal:"//If I took all these meds for my dentist appointment, would it kill me?//")[ (link-reveal:"//When would my body be discovered if I died in my sleep?//")[ These thoughts, these questions, they haunt your brain. They seep in through the cracks and they make a home there. These thoughts never really leave. One day, without even realizing, you’re sitting on the ground sobbing and trying with everything to keep yourself from jumping off that bridge, from swallowing those meds, from (link-reveal:"//killing yourself.//")[ You never realize it, but it infiltrates your brain. By then, the thoughts are your neighbors, your friends, your family. There’s no evicting them. (link-reveal:"They’re //apart// of you.")[ An incredibly loud scream snatches you from your thoughts, and you look at the window into the hallway. There’s a man, wearing nothing, walking up and down the hallway yelling profusely. You pull your knees closer to your chest and hope [[he doesn’t see you.->sleep - 2.0.0]] ]]]]]]]]

... (link-reveal:"You’re falling.")[ (link-reveal:"You’re falling.")[ (link-reveal:"You’re falling.")[ Your body shakes you awake, and you grip the side of your bed. Okay, not falling. Whether you were falling or not, your eyelids are already giving in and trying to go back to sleep. You open them, wide. //No.// You can’t go back to sleep. Going back to sleep means more nightmares, and you can’t handle any more of those. You’ve never had consistent nightmares, but just thinking about going back and reliving this hell over and over in your sleep is enough to nearly make you cry. //No, don’t cry.// Your third roommate looks at you. You avoid her eyes. Why won’t she [[go away?->wake up - 2.0.1]]]]]

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Instead, you force yourself to get up. It has to be early enough for [[breakfast->breakfast - 2.1.1]], your stomach growls from missing dinner the previous night. Then again, your drooping eyelids are practically begging you to take a [[wake-up shower->hygieneShower - 2.1.5.1]] or [[splash some water on your face.->hygieneFace - 2.1.5.2]] (set:$hair to false)

Breakfast is a bore, as you suspected. The food is no better than the dining hall, and the only beverage options are water, pineapple juice, and coffee. You would kill for a watered-down hot chocolate right about now. You sit alone at breakfast. The cafeteria is quite underwhelming in terms of the people there. One of the clipboard ladies makes a signal and starts calling everyone back. Other people in blue shirts start milling about, returning their trays and such. Someone you don’t recognize walks by you, (link-reveal:"“I //fucking// love your hair!”")[ You almost forgot your hair wasn’t… normal. You nod and mutter a thank you. Instinctively, you reach to touch the color hair. It feels tangled and out of place, but you remember. The clipboard lady opens the doors and everyone walks into the hallway. This particular hallway happens to have long windows that stretch the whole walk, and in those windows you catch a brief moment of your (link-reveal:"reflection.")[ (color:#428082)[Your hair color is blue and green, a gentle seafoam color. (if:$hair is false)[You smile, [[for a moment.->memories - 2.1.1.1]]]](if:$hair is true)[You smile, for a moment. They walk everyone back [[upstairs.->hallway - 2.1.2]]]]]

You make your way down the hallway, yet again making the oh-so fun request for shampoo and soap. You carry the two little cups back to your room. The cups are the exact same size as the ones from this buffet you went to as a kid, and for a moment you pretend you’re carrying two massive paper cups of ranch dressing. (link-reveal:"Just a moment.")[ The shower really isn’t all that much to rave about. It’s almost identical to showering at the dorms, except instead of hearing people come and go from the bathroom-- there’s someone coming and checking on you then going. Your feet feel disgusting. You can’t wait to scrub the concept of communal showers off your feet. Once you’ve finished, you put on your generic ass blue shirt and the stupid provided pants. Your socks feel bumpy with each step, given their adhesive underside. With a sigh, you make your way into the [[hallway.->hallway - 2.1.2]]]

You stand in front of the mirror, looking for a moment. Your hair has obvious signs of bedhead, the color already fading from their stupid shampoo. The skin on your face is agonizing to look at, with new growths and pimples popping up left and right. //Ah yes, that’s what happens when you don’t wash your face.// The generic blue shirt they provided you with doesn’t fit your frame, it’s too large and hangs awkwardly on your chest. Then there’s the pants, the absolute worst part. These aren’t even your pants anymore, they were provided. Your jeans are folded up nicely next to your bed, because after wearing them for two days straight you were starting to feel gross. No, these pants are made of fucking paper. Thin, light blue paper gentle tied to your waist. (link-reveal:"If you tied it too tightly, they’d rip.")[ Looking at your appearance, there’s one thing you’re sure of: //I look like a fucking lunatic.// You splash some water on your face, but find yourself unmotivated to do really anything else and wander out into the [[hallway.->hallway - 2.1.2]]]

The happenings in the hallway appear to be slim. There isn’t really much of anything happening today, apparently. You look up and down the hall, somewhat uncertain what to do with your time. Just then, one of the many employees walks by you. “Oh hey, by the way, the doctor is going to be seeing you later this afternoon.” (link-reveal:"Doctor?")[ You nod affirmatively, but your eyes tell a different story. Panic rises in your throat. You’ve never seen this kind of doctor before. Sure, you’d seen several therapists and social workers, but they never //fit// right. You always ended up feeling better and stopping appointments, you never stayed with them long. You thought about your therapist at school. She was cool. She seemed like she actually gave a shit about the appointments, and what you were saying. You brain began its familiar twist and turn-- does she know I’m here? Did someone tell her? Did someone tell your professors? Are they failing you? You looked at the clock. Oh, fuck. It’s nine in the morning. You’re supposed to be in an Astronomy final. You’re missing it. [[You’re gonna fail everything->hallwayCont - 2.1.2.1.]]. This is it, this is the downfall of your entire college career.]

//**Stop**// You need to take a breath. You can’t keep doing this shit, especially not in a hallway. (if:$parents1 is true and $parents2 is true)[You take a deep breath. You start tapping your finger in a rhythm. You need to //ground// yourself. You need to stop. Your eyes flicker up and down the hall and land on the lockers. //Coloring book.// You flag down someone and they hand you the book and markers your mom gave you. You quickly retreat to the [[TV Room->group - 2.1.3]] to hide out and just color some fucking flowers.](else:)[There’s nowhere to go. There’s nothing to do now. You turn and [[retreat to your room->room - 2.1.4]]. The panic settles in, just as you get there.]

You sit yourself in the back corner, setting down your coloring book. You keep your markers in your lap, because you’re not interested in sharing these with anyone. You grab the teal marker, and begin to color some plants. It takes a few minutes, a few minutes of trying to focus and getting knee-deep in the detail of coloring small stems with big markers, but you feel your heartbeat start to go down. Your brain begins to relax, and focus on what color you’re going to use next instead. Prior to this, you hadn’t given much thought or energy to coloring books-- at least not beyond your childhood memories. (link-reveal:"This, however, was surprisingly relaxing.")[ Long enough goes by, that you glance up and see a few people sitting near you, with more gently filing in through the door. //Oh no.// It seems you’ve somehow found yourself stuck in a group activity. If you want to leave, you’ll have to give up the coloring book. //Nope.// Instead, you make yourself smaller and try to (link-reveal:"blend in with the wall.")[ … //Okay, not too bad.// The group leader packs up the activity and leaves. You didn’t really participate very much, well-- you didn’t participate at all. You spent the entire time coloring, and you’re still coloring. But you feel [[a little bit better->between - 2.1]] than you did when you first woke up.]]

You’re hiding, but you’re specifically //not// going back to bed. You genuinely barely did anything, and then retreated right back to your room. Awesome job! You feel nauseous. Are they gonna give you medication? Your brain hurts just thinking about [[//everything.//->between - 2.1]]

Every movie you’ve ever seen has told you that doctor’s are absurd, they prescribe things on a whim and they don’t //care// about the person on the other side of their prescription pad. You have vague memories of watching shows where characters took medication and looked… (link-reveal:"Empty.")[ Would an emptiness be better than this? You’re filled with so much anxiety, so much fear, so much pain and sadness-- wouldn’t it be better to just be nothing? //Fuck.// This place is making you consider the weirdest questions, leaving you to catch the weird trains of thought. This must be what it's like to have nothing to do, no media to consume or work to do. You spend much of your free time filled with work and media-- music, movies, games. (link-reveal:"Anything you could get your hands on to drown out the background noise.")[ These trains of thought, these weird questions, they were the background noise. [[//Make it stop, please.//->between - 2.11]]]]

There are butterflies in your stomach, but not the good kind. The kind of butterflies that cling to your inside and try to pull them up and out of you. You’re sitting in your room, on the edge of your bed, uncertain what to do with your afternoon. The feeling you have could only be compared to Christmas Eve-- waiting impatiently to open presents, too excited to even get a blink of sleep. But a bad one. You pull your legs up on the bed, and look over at your roommate. She’s turned over on her side, wrapped in the same blanket as always, whispering something to her best friend in scrubs. You’ve barely spoken to her since you got here, a [[bit of conversation->room - 2.2.6]] might welcome a good distraction. Who knows, maybe she has insight into doctors visits. You move your attention to the door. There’s not much point, talking to your roommate wouldn’t change anything. You need //distraction.// Well, there was the [[TV Room->tv room - 2.2.3]]. They sometimes played stuff on there. It might be nice, to be reminded of the fake, outside world.

How can you insert yourself into this conversation? The thought lingers on your mind for a moment, as you turn your body ever so slightly to better hear the exchange. “...I know I should get out of bed, like, objectively I know it’s the right thing. But I just don’t want to, I don’t want to move.” Your heart twisted. You knew next to nothing about this person, but you understood that feeling so well. That strong tug that drags you further into the sluggish feelings of depression, the one that grows with each day you let it take over. You hadn’t really ever //known// anyone who felt like that. Everyone was always normal, they didn’t understand you being sad. They didn’t understand your complete inability to be happy, to make yourself happy. (link-reveal:"But this person did.")[ And yet, you couldn’t open your mouth. You couldn’t bring yourself to empathize, you couldn’t open up like that to a complete stranger. You //wanted// to open up, at least to someone. Instead, you turned away and continued to [[sit in your thoughts->feelings - 2.1.2]], alone.]

You take a seat in one of the couches that were pushed against the far wall. It’s a weird one, a light blue not too far off from your provided free-of-charge shirt, and a significantly tough shirt at that. The whole room is pretty quiet at this point, with most people having left after the group activity a while back. It appeared to be some sort of naptime for everyone. (link-reveal:"//Distract yourself.//")[ You turn your attention to the small, clearly over a decade old television. It always seems to be playing either those channels with //only// movies all the time, or the ones with CSI-type reruns. This time, it’s a CSI-type rerun. It’s about some girl who got murdered and stuffed in a suitcase. Very appealing, and definitely something you felt like you could stomach. Although there was nobody around, you didn’t know where the remote was and if you were even //allowed// to change the channel. So, you kept watching it. You wondered, why would they think this was a good idea for this place? [[You sigh.->feelings - 2.1.2]]]

What is this feeling? This dragging sense of dread. You can’t put a finger on it, you can’t pinpoint the emotion. So many emotions are swirling through your head, it’s difficult to even read yourself. Are you fearful?(click-replace:"fearful?")[afraid?](click-replace:"afraid?")[alarmed?](click-replace:"alarmed?")[frightened?](click-replace:"frightened?")[terrified?](click-replace:"terrified?")[petrified?](click-replace:"petrified?")[nervous?](click-replace:"nervous?")[suicidal?] Are you angry?(click-replace:"angry?")[irritated?](click-replace:"irritated?")[resentful?](click-replace:"resentful?")[exasperated?](click-replace:"exasperated?")[consumed?](click-replace:"consumed?")[drained?](click-replace:"drained?")[exhausted?](click-replace:"exhausted?")[suicidal?] Are you sad?(click-replace:"sad?")[unhappy?](click-replace:"unhappy?")[sorrowful?](click-replace:"sorrowful?")[dejected?](click-replace:"dejected?")[regretful?](click-replace:"regretful?")[full of dread?](click-replace:"full of dread?")[depressed?](click-replace:"depressed?")[suicidal?] (live:15s)[Right. That’s what that [[feeling->between - 2.2]] is.]

You start to see people walk in, small handfuls of parents and siblings and children shuffling through the double doors and into the TV Room. There must have been some unspoken rule against family being near the rooms, because they always seem to end up in the TV Room. (if: $parents1 is false and $parents2 is false)[//Oh no.// Your insides begin to twist, as the group is dwindling to just a few stragglers and you haven’t seen your parents yet. Of course, [[they didn’t come.->visitorsNo - 2.3.7.2]]] (else:)[//Oh no.// Your insides begin to twist, as the group is dwindling to just a few stragglers and you haven’t seen your parents yet. Of course, [[they didn’t come.->visitorsNo - 2.3.7.2]] Even now, when you’re at your absolute lowest, they didn’t care enough to come and support you, [[like they should.->visitorsYes - 2.3.7.1]]]

You linger near the double doors for a few minutes, watching more people walk up and down the hallway. Others show their family the hallway, others go to the TV Room. You don’t move. Nobody comes. No parents showing up for you, no loving arms to greet you. It stings. After a few minutes, you watch a clipboard lady walk by. She smiles. There had to be some mistake, there had to be an error. You //called// them three fucking days ago, and they never showed. Not once. The logical side of your brain was fighting with your confidence, with your emotions-- (link-reveal:"it was screwing your thought process up entirely.")[ … You sleep through dinner. You can feel them judging you and writing down everything she sees, each moment you stay in bed. She writes it down, and her shoes squeak down the hall. Eventually, she has the guts to stir you from your sleep. “Your doctor would like to see you. Why don’t you go and wait in one of the intake rooms?” Oh. [[A doctor’s visit.->doctorsNo - 2.3.2]]]

(if: $parents1 is true and $parents2 is true)[Your parents finally walk through the doors and their eyes immediately settle on you. Your mom gives you a half-smile, and holds her arms out for you to go join them. You reciprocate the smile and give her a hug. “Where’s your coloring book at? Let’s go sit down,” she ushers you into the TV Room. However, just as you’re sitting down you’re interrupted by an invasive voice. “Hey all, your doctor is here to see you, you can [[wait->doctorYes3 - 2.3.2.3]] over in the room where they did your intake.” Your dad gives glances at you and raises his eyebrows and your mom takes the markers and coloring book.](if: $parents1 is true and $parents2 is false)[You’re just about to give up-- and accept that today will be just like yesterday-- when they walk through the door. They look around, and certainly appear to be lost. “Mom,” you gently call to her and make your way over there. “Hey, you came.” There’s a twinge of excitement in your voice, coupled with the leftover fear of them not coming. “Of course we did.” She smiles and puts a hand on your back, as if trying to reassure you or something. You walk the two of them into the TV Room, and take a seat in one of the plastic chairs. You sort of don’t know what to say. A million years have passed in the two days since you last saw them, but you can’t tell them that. They look exhausted, they look unkempt, they look completely out of their depth. You can’t put this on them, (link-reveal:"it’s your fault you’re in here after all.")[ “Hi, sweetie, your doctor is here to see you. You can wait for him in the same room they did your intake in.” One of the clipboard ladies smiles and walks off to continue her rounds. Your dad hears this and looks over at you. “Is your doctor nice at all?” “I dunno, I haven’t met them yet.” He frowns, then nudges your mom. You stand up and lead them to the [[intake room.->doctorYes1 - 2.3.2.1]]]](if: $parents1 is false and $parents2 is true)[The moment you lay your eyes on your mom, you find yourself smiling. She gives you a weak smile, and opens her arms to give you a hug. There’s no hesitation as you embrace her in the hallway. She ushers you into the TV Room, where you were yesterday. It’s a weird blend of emotions, where on one hand you feel awfully emotionless in this space-- and on the other hand, you’re so glad your mom came through. She //showed up//, they both showed up. It was the tiniest of victories, the tiniest feeling of safety. “Hi, sweetie, your doctor is here to see you. You can wait for him in the same room they did your intake in.” One of the clipboard ladies smiles and (link-reveal:"walks off to continue her rounds.")[ That ounce of safety feels like it’s snatched from you, and your heart sinks. You weren’t expecting to see a doctor right now, you wanted to spend all of your visiting hours with your parents. Not stuffed up in some room with your brain being poked and prodded. Your parents tell you they should go, and together you walk to the [[intake room.->doctorYes2 - 2.3.2.2]]]]

Your parents follow you into the small room, each taking a chair. “When she said intake room, was this where you first went when you came here?” You nod silently. Your brain is so focused on what you felt when you first came to this room-- the emotions of being bombarded with questions and forms you didn’t understand. You signed so many things, and you still don’t know what they were. They treated you like a criminal, and they laughed at you when you felt violated. You can barely focus on your mom. She hugs you, she can tell. The doctor knocks on the door and opens it, smiling as he comes in. He looks strange. A short man in glasses and a lab coat, with his name neatly printed on his sweater. Beneath his name are the words //Berkeley Residency.// (link-reveal:"”Hey there, I see we’ve got your parents here today.”")[ ... Your parents ask dozens of questions. It almost feels like with every word he says, a new inquiry spills from their mouths. They ask about your discharge, they ask about the medication he’s prescribing, they ask why you haven’t been seen until now, they ask why you were taken here. (link-reveal:"They ask when you can go home.")[ You’re glad they’re here. Without them, you probably wouldn’t have considered any of these questions, much less had the ability or courage to ask any of them. He tells you he’s prescribing klonopin for anxiety and insomnia, and zoloft for your depression. He explains that some medication has very immediate side effects that make everything worse, and so it’s important to tell someone if you feel worse. (link-reveal:"Your mom nods and squeezes your hand.")[ The doctor smiles. “It seems like you’ve got a strong support system going at home. (link-reveal:"I will discuss discharging you within the next day or so.”")[ Somehow, he’s said the one thing that will make you so happy. It’s hard to contain the smile growing on your cheeks as he shakes everyone’s hands and leaves. Your parents seem happy, but they still look exhausted. [[They want to go home too.->medsYes3 - 2.3.3.3]] (set: $stay = false)]]]]

Your parents follow you into the small room, each taking a chair. “When she said intake room, was this where you first went when you came here?” You nod silently. Your brain is so focused on what you felt when you first came to this room-- the emotions of being bombarded with questions and forms you didn’t understand. You signed so many things, and you still don’t know what they were. They treated you like a criminal, and they laughed at you when you felt violated. You can barely focus on your mom, but she doesn’t notice. The doctor knocks on the door and opens it, smiling as he comes in. He looks strange. A short man in glasses and a lab coat, with his name neatly printed on his sweater. Beneath his name are the words //Berkeley Residency.// (link-reveal:"”Hey there, I see we’ve got your parents here today.”")[ … Your parents ask dozens of questions. It almost feels like with every word he says, a new inquiry spills from their mouths. They ask about your discharge, they ask about the medication he’s prescribing, they ask why you haven’t been seen until now, they ask why you were taken here. (link-reveal:"They ask when you can go home.")[ He tells you he’s prescribing klonopin for anxiety and insomnia, and zoloft for your depression. He explains that some medication has very immediate side effects that make everything worse, and so it’s important to tell someone if you feel worse. You nod. Are you really going to be able to tell someone? You couldn’t really tell anyone last time, it’s not like anyone cared to listen anyways. The doctor frowns. “While I would like to let you go home, it seems like your support system isn’t very strong. It’s best if you stay here on this new medication so we can (link-reveal:"monitor you.”")[ Your heart sinks. Your entire body physically droops, and you can feel your eyes welling up with tears. How could they do this to you? All you wanted was to go home, how could they just keep you here indefinitely? //How in the fuck was the legal?// Your parents sigh and look over at you with pity. [[They want to go home too.->medsYes1 - 2.3.3.1]] (set: $stay = true)]]]

Your parents follow you into the small room, each taking a chair. “When she said intake room, was this where you first went when you came here?” You nod silently. Your brain is so focused on what you felt when you first came to this room-- the emotions of being bombarded with questions and forms you didn’t understand. You signed so many things, and you still don’t know what they were. They treated you like a criminal, and they laughed at you when you felt violated. You can barely focus on your mom, but she doesn’t notice. The doctor knocks on the door and opens it, smiling as he comes in. He looks strange. A short man in glasses and a lab coat, with his name neatly printed on his sweater. Beneath his name are the words //Berkeley Residency//. (link-reveal:"”Hey there, I see we’ve got your parents here today.”")[ … Your parents ask dozens of questions. It almost feels like with every word he says, a new inquiry spills from their mouths. They ask about your discharge, they ask about the medication he’s prescribing, they ask why you haven’t been seen until now, they ask why you were taken here. (link-reveal:"They ask when you can go home.")[ He tells you he’s prescribing klonopin for anxiety and insomnia, and zoloft for your depression. He explains that some medication has very immediate side effects that make everything worse, and so it’s important to tell someone if you feel worse. You nod. Are you really going to be able to tell someone? You couldn’t really tell anyone last time, (link-reveal:"it’s not like anyone cared to listen anyways.")[ The doctor frowns. “While I would like to let you go home, it seems like your support system isn’t very strong. It’s best if you stay here on this new medication so we can (link-reveal:"monitor you.”")[ Your heart sinks. Your entire body physically droops, and you can feel your eyes welling up with tears. How could they do this to you? All you wanted was to go home, how could they just keep you here indefinitely? //How in the fuck was the legal?// Your parents sigh and look over at you with pity. [[They want to go home too.->medsYes2 - 2.3.3.2]] (set: $stay = true)]]]]

You’re sitting in a plastic chair, waiting for the doctor to walk in. Probably ten minutes have passed since they sent you in here. Your brain is too busy to sulk over the time. You remember this room. This was the intake room where you first went when you arrived, the first chair you sat in after being strapped to the gourney. You signed paperwork you didn’t understand, they read you your rights as if you could process their words, and they asked about insurance when you didn’t have your wallet. They asked if you wanted to call anyone. They treated you like a criminal as they took your dangerous clothing, and did a strip search. (link-reveal:"You cried a lot that morning.")[ The door to the room opens suddenly, and the doctor is standing there, smiling. It’s a tall man in glasses and a sweater. His sweater says //Berkeley Residency.// “Hey there, how are you doing?” [[Not so hot.->doctorsNoCont - 2.3.2.2]]]

He tries to explain what’s happened. He doesn’t do a very good job at it. Nothing he says makes sense. He asks if you’re still feeling //down// several times, you say yes-- but this place makes your anxiety so much worse, you’d rather by home. He prescribes you something called klonopin. He doesn’t explain. He asks if you have questions, but you can’t find words in your throat. You’re holding back tears. He tells you he can’t release you yet, you’re too dangerous. The tears are welling up now, but you tell yourself you can’t (link-reveal:"//fucking cry// in front of the doctor.")[ That would look bad. Then he’ll never (link-reveal:"release you.")[ He prescribes you something else, called zoloft. He doesn’t explain. He thanks you for your time, gets up, and leaves. [[You’re left wondering what the fuck happened.->postDoctorsNo - 2.3.3]] (set: $stay = true)]]

… “So here’s your medication, and here’s the water.” She hands you two small paper cups, and smiles. “Do I have to take them?” You don’t like the idea of new medication, in a brand new space. You don’t know what this will do to you. Sure, they told you the side effects-- but that doesn’t //help//. You’re still anxious, you’d rather be doing this at home. Not in this weird bubble of a place. She shakes her head, “Not at all. This medication is recommended, but it’s (link-reveal:"optional.”")[ //Optional.// What a bullshit word in this place. It’s too similar to the word voluntary-- something which you’ve learned they don’t have here. You take them both, swallowing them in the order she instructed. “Now, I have to look at your tongue to make sure you swallowed.” You open your mouth wide and [[show her your tongue.->sleep - 2.4.1]]]

… “So here’s your medication, and here’s the water.” She hands you two small paper cups, and smiles. “Do I have to take them?” You don’t like the idea of new medication, in a brand new space. You don’t know what this will do to you. Sure, they told you the side effects-- but that doesn’t //help//. You’re still anxious, you’d rather be doing this at home. Not in this weird bubble of a place. //I’m going home.// She shakes her head, “Not at all. This medication is recommended, but it’s (link-reveal:"optional.”")[ //Optional.// What a bullshit word in this place. It’s too similar to the word voluntary-- something which you’ve learned they don’t have here. You take them both, swallowing them in the order she instructed. //I’m going home.// “Now, I have to look at your tongue to make sure you swallowed.” You open your mouth wide and show her your tongue. [[//I’m going home.//->sleep - 2.4.1]]]

You’re sitting in the TV Room, mindlessly watching something. You’ve never been on medication for your brain, only ever for your body. There are no expectations, only anxiety. Enough time passes that one of the ladies walks in, “It’s closing time. Lights out, so I have to lock this room.” You nod quietly. You must have been sitting there for quite a while if that much time went by. You stand up-- (link-reveal:"//Oh shit.//")[ Your legs felt wobbly, your brain was loose in your skull. Your whole head felt like it was going to fall, like your neck couldn’t support the weight anymore. Your legs seem to have trouble just walking in a straight line. //Am I drunk?// No, that wasn’t this feeling. This was different, this was a weird sleepy-drunk-high that you hadn’t experienced before. (link-reveal:"Was this what it was like to be medicated?")[ You half-stumbled your way down the hall, and collapsed in your bed. The minute your head hit the pillow, the tears started again. Normally you were able to hold them off, to maintain composure for a while. But this time they just sort of slipped out, your emotions just poked their head through the crack and went for a spin. Eventually, in the midst of your cry, you [[slipped off into unconsciousness.->dreams - 2.5.1]]]]

… “So here’s your medication, and here’s the water.” She hands you two small paper cups, and smiles. “Do I have to take them?” You don’t like the idea of new medication, in a brand new space. You don’t know what this will do to you. You don’t know the side effects, you barely know the regular effects. She shakes her head, “Not at all. This medication is recommended, but it’s (link-reveal:"optional.”")[ //Optional.// What a bullshit word in this place. It’s too similar to the word voluntary-- something which you’ve learned they don’t have here. You take them both, swallowing them in the order she instructed. “Now, I have to look at your tongue to make sure you swallowed.” You open your mouth wide and [[show her your tongue.->sleep - 2.4.1]]]

It all happened so fast. All you did was send a few texts, they weren’t meant to mean anything-- there was no deeper meaning. In fact, attention was the absolute last thing you wanted. You wanted to go to bed. You wanted to blend in, you only had a week of classes left. Then, freedom from the social obligations which gave you so, so much anxiety. (link-reveal:"But they ripped that away.")[ It started with an overreaction and a misunderstanding. The words could not be taken back, the knock on your door that followed wouldn’t be forgotten. She asked you point blank if you had a plan, and you said no. You figured your distant desire to walk off the bridge on your morning commute didn’t count as a plan. She didn’t care. She still told you she was required to call a police officer. [[//It all happened so fast.//->dreams - 2.5.2]]]

“It’s voluntary, don’t worry. You can get an appointment, maybe get the medication you need, and be out by tomorrow. You won’t miss breakfast with your parents.” //He lied.// He acted so trusting, so caring, but really you were a statistic-- something he was preventing from ending up on his record. (link-reveal:"How bad would it look if the police officer sent to check up on a suicidal girl didn’t follow up?")[ You never imagined this would be how you ended up in a police car. In fact, you were a stickler for the rules-- you never imagined you would end up in a police car. The plastic was uncomfortable. The backseat was situated a foot lower than the front, and so you couldn’t look out the window. [[You had no idea where you were going.->dreams - 2.5.3]] You didn’t know how to react to everything, so you sent a snapchat with no context.]

The behavioral center was the worst. They brought you into a small room and the officer left. They took your phone and asked you tons of questions. This was one of the moments you regretted your choice the most. They deposited you in a small room with a window into the hallway. A social worker asked you more questions. You asked when you were going to go home. “Oh, sweetie, do you know what a [[5150->dreams - 2.5.4]] is?”

The next morning, they found a place with a bed. They told you the ambulance was transporting you at eleven. It felt //wrong// being on a stretcher when you weren’t injured, it felt unnecessary. It felt unnecessary the entire hour long drive where you had to look out the back window. It felt unnecessary when they made you sit in the waiting room with them while they waited for the hospital to let you in. It felt unnecessary when they wheeled you into the long, hallway where you’d spend the [[longest three days of your life.->dreams - 2.5.5]]

Then came more questions. (live:1.5s)[How long have you been suicidal? ](live:3s)[Do you still feel suicidal? ](live:4.5s)[What’s your insurance company? ](live:6s)[Do you know the phone number? ](live:7.5s)[Do you have any dependents? ](live:9s)[Like, pets or kids who will need to be cared for while you’re staying here? ](live:10s)[Do you have a support system? ](live:11s)[Do you have any friends? ](live:12s)[Does your family care about you? ](live:13s)[Do you have a therapist? ](live:14s)[Are you seeing a psychiatrist? ](live:15s)[Are you on any medication? ](live:16s)[Can you spell that for me? ](live:17s)[When was your last menstration cycle? ](live:17.5s)[Does anyone know you're here? ](live:18s)[Can you sign this? ](live:18.5s)[Do you currently feel suicidal? ](live:19s)[Did you have a plan? ](live:19.5s)[Are you still intending to pursue that plan? ](live:20s)[Do you have anything on you that you can use to harm yourself? ](live:20.5s)[Does your bra have a metal wire? ](live:21s)[Can you take that off? ](live:21.5s)[Can you pull down your pants? ] (live:25s)[Are you hungry? ] (live:28s)[Do you like ham or turkey?] (live:30s)[[[STOP->dreams - 2.5.6]]]

Your whole body shakes, and you immediately sit up in bed. You’re breathing heavily. Your whole body is covered in sweat. It’s only four in the morning. You sigh. Rather than return to your brain’s endless cycle of reminding you how much of a fucking inconviencnce you are, you refuse to sleep. Instead you just stay awake, and stare off at the wall. (if:$stay is true)[[[Might as well get used to this.->wake up - 3.1.0]]](if:$stay is false)[[[Soon.->wake up - 3.0.0]]]

After the millionth time of the clipboard rolling in that night, you finally stir from your thoughts. She notices, and sure enough she invites you to breakfast. Fucking breakfast. What’s the point? What’s the point of anything anymore? Nobody’s coming for you. It’s never going to end, you’re just going to go crazy in here. You’ll never [[escape.->ending - 3.1.1.]]

The clipboard lady calls you from your sleep. “Your parents will be here in a few hours, you better get ready.” The feeling in your chest is so familiar-- it’s the one when you’ve finished your finals, and you’re packing up your room to go home, the one when you’ve finished an all-nighter project and you’re finally shutting all the tabs, the one when you’re on the last leg of a road trip and you’re //finally// going home. Ever since you were placed here, you’ve wanted nothing more than to be back in your bed with your dog. This place has done nothing but scare you. Very quickly, the morning became a blur. You skip breakfast, you’re too busy signing papers. They call your parents. There’s a delay, and you’re left waiting around for two hours for the doctor to sign their last signature. Until, finally, they [[open the double doors->ending - 3.0.1]] for you.

The double doors swing wide open, and you step out into the hallway-- this time without clipboard lady, without an entourage of blue shirts and blue pants, without the stretcher parading you around. You ride the elevator down to freedom, but there's more paperwork on the ground floor. They give you your phone, your bra, and everything you came in with. [[They wish you good luck.->ending - 3.0.2]]

The outside world appears to be the same, nothing changed too much while you were gone. As you’re walking away, you almost feel like they’re going to take it back-- at any point one of them will come back outside and say it was a mistake, grab you, and throw you back in there. But she (link-reveal:"doesn't.")[ Instead, you climb into your parents car and look up at the tall building you were locked in. (link-reveal:"//**Fremont Hospital.**//")[ //Dedicated to Hope, Healing, and Recovery.// You scoff and the car drives away. [[You’re free.->closing - 3.2.1]]]]

//5150:// 5150 refers to the California law code for the temporary, involuntary psychiatric commitment of individuals who present a danger to themselves or others due to signs of mental illness. It has been more generally applied to people who are considered threateningly unstable or “crazy.” Also known as 72-hour holds. [[The end.->closing - 3.3.1]]

In this ending, you were discharged from the hospital after being held for 72-hours. You had your family there to support you and advocate for you. One month later, you received a hefty bill for your involuntary stay. [[The nightmares never stopped.->closing - 3.4]]

Your day is the same. The same as it will always be. Stuck strolling through hallways, same old group, same old meals, same empty visiting hours. Nobody wants to visit you anymore. Nobody ever calls (link-reveal:"you.")[ It’s sad to have to see you in here anyways, and you know it. With each passing day, their provided shampoo is draining the color from your hair. You finally gave in and now you only wear those stupid, paper pants that everyone else has one. You couldn’t bear to wear the same jeans over and over. Blue paper pants and an oversize, blue shirt. You blend right in with everyone. After all, you’re all [[alone->ending - 3.2.1]] in here together.]

The day is nearly over. Your doctor doesn’t visit you. You take your medication. You get no visitors. Your roommate continues to talk about the same depressing, morbid shit. They try to talk to you, but you find it less and less reasonable. There’s no point in participating, it doesn’t matter, nothing will come of this. You’re sitting in a plastic chair in the hallway, staring numbly at the payphone on the wall across from you. The receptionist says your name and waves you over. “I need you to sign this real quick,” she holds up a (link-reveal:"form.")[ You’re trying to look over the paper, you’re trying to understand-- “Oh, don’t worry. It’s just the same stuff your doctor went over with you. Your plan, your medication--” You see the plan options, (link-reveal:"the reasons for stay.")[ //Originally placed on 5150 on June 8th, 2018. Recommended for 5250 for further observation. Active until June 24th, 2018.// You really are [[never->closing - 3.2.2]] getting out of here.]]

In this ending, your 72-hour hold was extended into a 14-day hold. You lacked a clear support system in your home and social life. One month after your release, you received a hefty bill for your involuntary stay. [[The nightmares never stopped.->closing - 3.4]]

Winter in June By Katie Moses Thank you for playing. [[Play again->beginning - 0.0.01]] to experience more of the content.

You’re sitting in your room, scrolling through your phone. It’s primarily other people’s lives, with a dash of memes thrown in. Your eyes come across something from someone in your friend group. The caption reads, “My favorite people in the world!” with several emojis added on. //I was there. I took that photo.// It just so happens that every photo you //weren’t// in got posted. All your friends got tagged, except you. [[Your heart drops.->spiralCont - 1.3.6.3]]

It’s freshman year. You’re in your dorm room on a Friday night, alone. You take a break from your TV shows to step out into the hall and use the restroom. One of your friends stumbles over, grinning. “Oh heyyy! Sorry if we’re being loud,” she giggles. Suddenly, the door opens and another friend’s head pokes out. “Psst, shhhhh!” He is clearly in a similarly drunk state. There are a clash of voices coming from the room, all of them familiar. The girl giggles and walks off towards the bathroom. “It’s fine.” [[Your heart drops.->TV RoomP1 - 1.3.4.1]]

(set:$hair to true)(color:#004547)[You’re in your room sitting on a wooden chair. Your friends are there, she’s got a small brush in her hand and a bowl of blue in the other. “Wow, you’re hair recovered from the bleach so fast-- it’s really soft.” She’s grinning, you’re giggling. The window is open and something is playing on the TV, it’s a warm April evening. It’s still early in the quarter, so you have no homework. (link-reveal:"Was it the weed that made you giggle this much?")[ (link-reveal:"Was it the feeling of being surrounded by people you love?")[ There is a pristine lack of negativity in the room. Everything just feels //good.// There’s no other way to describe the fullness of your heart, as though it might burst from your chest at any moment. [[It’s surreal.->memories - 2.1.1.2]]]]]

At some point, you end up falling asleep. Your eyes drift off for an hour or two, letting you escape from your spiraling brain and into the dreamscape for a bit. You aren’t sure what wakes you up, but a bit later you awake again. The sun has begun to move away, clearly on its way out for the day. You immediately realize that it //has// to be visiting hours. You throw off the covers and make your way to the [[hallway->betweenCont - 2.21]], hopefully anticipating a visitor.

(color:#256c6e)[You’re in your room on your bed. He’s smiling at you, he’s grinning. Two weeks felt like a million years, but he’s here now. His entire attention is focused on you, his gaze is given to exclusively you. His eyes crinkle when he laughs, and he nudges you. He’s trying to acknowledge how funny you are. You feel euphoric. You’re on top of the world. Your heart is bursting with love, and you can’t describe why. Have you ever felt this way? Have you ever cared so fiercely about another human being like this? It feels new, it feels undiscovered, exciting and thrilling in (link-reveal:"every good way.")[ Your hand is in his. You’re laying there, giggling and watching a movie. It’s just two nights, but those two nights feel like Mount Everest. There is nothing that can be better than this moment. He looks at your hair, he gently twirls a piece of it on his finger. (link-reveal:"“The blue turned out so good.”")[ He smiles at you. “I’m really glad I came.” You lean on his shoulder. “Me too.” You wish this moment could last [[forever.->memories - 2.1.1.3]]]]]

(color:#428082)[You’re laying in bed. It’s Friday night. There is a distinct silence in the hallways of your dorm, as other students are spending the night studying for finals-- somehow May crept up on you. You are alone. Something is playing on the TV, you can barely pay attention anymore. Your eyes are tugging and pulling you back into a slumber. They’re threatening you with the dread of being awake, of being here. (link-reveal:"Of being present.")[ For a moment, the screen goes black in a transition. You catch a glimpse of your hair. Overgrown, unkempt, and your roots are growing in. It looks awful. It looks nothing like you. You were a bright blue, a beautiful blue-- you were vibrant and happy and thriving. This was nothing like you. This was stale and revealing, this was boring and forgotten. [[You were boring and forgotten.->breakfast - 2.1.1]]]]