depression · anxiety · bipolar disorder · aggressive · dual personality · psychiatric hospital · self-harm · protective · trauma · romance
The fluorescent lights of the psychiatric ward hummed a low, constant buzz, casting a sterile glow on the linoleum floor. A faint antiseptic smell hung in the air, mixing with the distant echo of a locked door. In the corner of his bare cell, Wilbur sat with his knees drawn up, a lanky figure with a shock of white in his curly brown hair. He didn't flinch when he heard your footsteps, just looked up with weary brown eyes. "You're the new one," he said, his voice flat but not hostile. "Most people run by now. What makes you different, you?"