MONEY TREES, gossip girl [DISCONTINUED]

26

tw! hospitalization, mania,
dream sequence that alludes to
sexual assault, and mentions of
drug addiction, death, overdose,
suicide, and violence
please be mindful.

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THE WAY IT WAS
┗━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

CRISTIAN hates hospitals more than he hates rehab, and he hates rehab a lot.

The early morning after his episode was spent trying to coax Cristian to move. He blankly stared at his phone across the room, his mind going eerily silent. His mother was darting around his room, packing him a bag to take, but they didn't end up going anywhere until eight o'clock in the morning. Farah was trying to get him to stand up for four entire hours.

At one point, he tried to tell her not to, but all that came out was a strew of indecipherable words. Of course, his ramblings made sense in his own mind, but not to anyone else's. But those four hours passed and Farah asked again if he wanted to go to the hospital, and Cristian let himself be dragged there. He was too tired at that point to argue. He was tired of his own anger.

He didn't fall asleep during the drive, but feels like he had. The only memory he can collect of it, is when his mother asked him to stop hitting his head against the window. Not until they got to the hospital, did Cristian realize there was a small bruise forming on his temple. It didn't bother him all too much, though.

Because of his minor injuries, Cristian was taken to the ER first and foremost. He didn't say a word the entire time, only nodding or shaking his head when he needed to. The glass splinters were taken out of his foot, they determined that he didn't have a concussion, and then it was time for the psychiatric unit.

That's when his panic set in again.

"You said you'd go, Cristian." Farah had told him, sitting at the end of his hospital bed. Edmond had already closed the curtains around them, shielding Cristian's looming outburst.

"I said I'd go to the hospital, and I did," Cristian seethed, pulling his legs up to his chest. His hands dig into his hair, "I don't want to go there. I don't belong there with those people, mom. I'm not— I'm not fucking crazy."

"I know you're not, but—"

"But nothing!" He interjected, hands moving to cover his face, "Please, just take me home. I want to go home. I'm tired, mom. Please. Please, take me home. I promise I won't do anything. I promise."

"It's just for a few days, okay?"

He squeezed his eyes shut as tears filled them, "I don't want to. I don't want to."