MY FALLEN ANGEL

CHAPTER [1]

[A/N: Heller there :p So this is finally my first 5SOS story. Woohoo yay ^.^ so I just got the idea for this and I hope y'all enjoy it and stick around for it! :)

Also;

Message me some ideas for new stories or some prompts for one shots or preferences. I'm always ready and willing to receive them. :D  Comment your constructive criticism and encouragement. Thanks guys.!

(I abolsutely love reading your comments and I will always respond. :)

QOTD:

How and when did you become a fan of the boys (5SOS)?

Tbh; I actually don't even know/remember lmao. But it's been a while.

SONG TO LISTEN TO FOR THE CHAPTER:

Can You Feel My Heart by Bring Me The Horizon.

Enjoy this chappie! :D

Tanks loves! :D ♥♥♥ :* (((BIG HUG)))

- Love Klaudy xo ♥♥♥]

|°~•••Chapter 1•••~°||

* - - - ASHTON'S POV - - - *

White walls.

White sheets.

White floors.

Sterile smell.

It's all the same in a hospital. Bland and boring. This really doesn't help you to not be depressed. It's just so unfortunate, no wonder people want to kill thems-

My thoughts are interrupted by a nurse and the doctor walking into my room. I sit up a bit straighter in the bed, brushing the hair out of my eyes.

"Hello Ashton." They both say with an almost forced cheerfulness.

"Hi." I say meekly looking at them.

"Well, we have decided that you're stable enough to go back home. You've been recommended to take the medications for your depression and anxiety, but yet again you've refused them." My doctor says wearily looking up from his chart.

"Well, I don't want to be happy because I have drugs in my system. I wanna be happy because I'm happy." I say softly, my hands running nervously over the scratchy sheets on the hospital bed.

"With that being said, you are still expected to visit your psychiatrist; me once a week and keep up with the journaling. Other than that, you are being discharged today. When you have your stuff ready, we will meet you at the front desk." The doctor continues monotonously, as if reading from a script. "We're going to call your parents to come sign you out."

I almost scoff at that, but hold my tongue instead of telling them that my parents won't come to sign me out. They'll find out when they call. There's no use trying to explain it now.

When I round up my stuff; my journal, school bag and get dressed; black skinnies, black vans, a soft grey pullover, and a scuffed jean jacket, I head to the front desk where the nurse and doctor are waiting for me.

"Well here is your phone and laptop." Dr. Martin says handing the items over, looking at me as if he's analysing me. "We called your parents, but they said they weren't able to come pick you up and discharge you because they were with your grandfather who is very ill at the moment. So we'll let you sign yourself out, you are almost eighteen after all." He says sighing as he hands over a clipboard and pen.

I almost snort as I take the clipboard and pen into my hands. Of course they couldn't come. It's not that they couldn't. It's that they don't want to. I don't even bother telling the nurse or Dr. Martin that my parents wouldn't know if my grandparents were sick, because my mum's parents died in a car crash when she was sixteen and my dad hasn't talked to his parents in almost eighteen years.