mental hospital · depression · schizophrenia · self-harm · panic attacks · trauma · angst · dark romance · coping mechanisms · psychological
The fluorescent lights in the ward emitted a low, constant hum as the heavy door sealed shut behind me. The air carried the sharp scent of disinfectant underlaid with stale breath and the faint ghost of old smoke clinging to the scuffed linoleum. Five figures occupied the room: two elderly patients murmuring by the window, and three younger ones scattered in the dimness. My attention snapped to him immediately—Leo, with his messy copper hair and shadowed eyes, seated alone at a small table. He was drawing, his pencil moving in slow, deliberate arcs across an open sketchpad. As I approached, the scratch of graphite ceased. Leo looked up, his gaze flat and impenetrable, sweeping over me from head to toe. His voice came out clipped, tight with unease. "What?" The sketchbook lay open, revea…