The days pass and everything is all a blur, time didn’t feel real, the world was just a receptacle for a more sinister type of poison. The poison of the mind, an illness that cannot be treated, but those ill to the sickness were of those who did not want to get better, those who knew getting better wasn’t something that they were looking for, those who knew that getting “better” wasn’t better. 

Abigail concealed her fear, her fear of abandonment, her fear of Iris, her fear of Aiden, Michael, or Damian leaving her. She concealed her fear of getting hurt again, or getting trapped again. She was young, too young for these types of fear, and yet she was still plagued by her mind with the fears that no one her age should ever have to imagine. It was a dark and scary place, her mind was, but it wasn’t new. It wasn’t dangerous for her mind to constantly be in a state of fear, that’s what her normal was, even though throughout her entire life she never knew what “normal” was, and her sense of normality was a little bit altered from what another may see. It wasn’t weird. She wasn’t weird. She was just waiting for normal. 

Each day dragged on, and while long days weren’t uncommon, they felt longer and longer to Abigail, her days filled with Iris slowly following her, step after step, turn after turn, she was always just behind her. The nurses couldn’t do anything about it, they thought that Iris had fallen for Abigail’s charm; and in a way she did. The older girl was captivated by the younger, her youthful innocent yet mature mind was in a state of war with itself, and that drew Iris in. The duality with her behavior attracted Iris, it drew her in like the tides to the shore until she couldn’t keep drawing back, and she finally began her following of the little girl. 

It didn’t begin with Iris following the younger everywhere, it grew slowly, from nights where Iris would walk Abigail to her room, to days where Abigail would be tailed throughout the entire day. Abigail was afraid. Not for her innocence, not again, but for her safety. Her safety against a force of which she has never witnessed. She was afraid of something she didn’t understand, the mind of another, who was just as cursed as her. There would not be an hour that passes where Iris wasn’t with the little girl, and Abigail wasn’t the only person that noticed. Michael slowly noticed, and so did Aiden and Damian, and they would watch her; study her reactions and then, they’d watch their interactions, with how Iris would talk to the dark soul to how Abigail would respond. 

Iris was relentless. She was never not following the little girl and it slowly became more and more apparent that she did not care about the fear that Abigail was holding of her. She ignored Abigail’s fear, ignored the small sliver of empathy inside of her, telling to give the small soul a break. She would not break. She will stand her ground against anything that will even try to get in between her and her next possible victim. She thought she would be able to resist the forces of outside. She thought she could resist the three boys that would stop at nothing to keep Abigail safe. 

Who would they be keeping Abigail safe from? It wasn’t other people, as Abigail was left to her own devices more often than not, even with all of the fear that the boys have surrounding the other patients in the ward. Maybe they were keeping her safe from themselves, their obsessions, and impulses, their compulses, and their urges. Their urges to hurt; their urges to destroy. 

The three were all very similar yet all very different; they all were in here for a reason, different reasons, but were they even ill? What if they’re just lying? Maybe they were. Maybe they are just trying to get attention, get love, get empathy. Maybe they’re just lonely souls in a world that shuts down any act of empathy because they don’t fit the textbook definition of normal. Because they don’t fit the box that normal is shoved into. 

-I hate her, I hate her, she’s inside my brain and she’s destroying me inside out. I’m not like her, I’m normal. I swear… I promise… please believe me… please Michael don’t go, Aiden, please stay, Damian, don’t leave me… Not again. -

Were we really all okay? Were we really all safe here? Or was this some sort of scheme to kill us all, they already got Angelica, they already got the little boy the group had so ruthlessly killed. Each day is a constant threat to their survival, no one is told that they will get better. No one is promised healing. 

No one can trust the words of anyone within the walls of the lie of a secure healing facility, each word is sugarcoated for the ear who listens yet nothing is of meaning. Every phrase is so carefully crafted for the listener that the meaning is lost under pretty words and empty promises that claim healing and freedom is near. Everyone knows that freedom comes with a cost, and in this scenario, the cost is one's life.

Freedom is paid with a life and love is paid with patience. Hope is paid with sanity, and hey, you get some free delusions. The ward is a wonderful deal, you give a bit of sanity to people who don’t care about you and all you get in return is empty lies and a bit of insanity; the screams that echo, the wails that slice through the so-called soundproof crap that is littering each room’s walls.

Abigail was lonely, Michael was muttering to himself in his room and Aiden and Damian stopped paying attention to her, quieting down when she would walk by and avoiding her eye contact. Abigail knew the signs of people pulling away, her naive heart couldn’t take it and followed by Iris, or so she thought, she returned to her room, breath echoing through the cramped place as shattered family ideals cascade onto the floor in front of her, getting absorbed by her socks as she steps forward again and again, pacing in her cell.

The halls were scarily quiet, no shadows as its pitch black. Iris isn’t with Abigail; Abigail knows something is wrong. She’s all alone.