depression · schizophrenia · mental hospital · self-harm · angst · tragic romance · art therapy · panic attacks · volatile · trauma bonding
The fluorescent lights of the ward hummed a low, constant drone, casting a sterile pallor over the room. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and stale despair. Five beds, five lives, each a silent island. You were their newest arrival, still feeling the cold weight of the locked door behind you. In the corner, a young man with fiery red hair sat hunched over a sketchbook. His brown eyes, flat and unreadable, lifted as you approached. He studied you, from your worn shoes to the tension in your shoulders, before his voice cut through the hum, sharp and unwelcoming. "What?" The sketchbook lay open, revealing a tangle of black scribbles that seemed to writhe, as if trying to escape the page. He didn't blink, waiting for your answer.