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October 29th, Saturday Afternoon
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Travis groaned as he started waking up. His eyelids felt heavy and his body still hurt like hell. He tried moving his arms and that's when reality hit him. Fully awake at this point he took in his surroundings, nothing but white. White walls, white floor, white ceiling, yet the room was dark with only the little light shown through a small gap in the door. His hands were restraint behind his back, his clothing was changed to one of those hospital scrubs, then he started remembering what got him here.

That's right, he had a fight with Larry. He felt himself become angry as he tried to get himself free, but ultimately couldn't. He gave up, deciding to sit against the wall since there was nothing else to do. He felt nauseous and sick, maybe they gave him too much. Against his wishes he fell asleep again, then woke up, then fell back asleep. It was a cycle he was trapped in. When he was awake it didn't feel like it, it always lead to him thinking and spacing out. The room was the definition of sensory deprivation, even with the restraints cutting into his skin almost.

Everything he wanted to avoid, he kept thinking about. Not even the ringing in his ears could help him, neither could the brief spouts of sleep. All of the insecurities and feelings he had hidden far, far deep inside of him; against all his efforts came into forefront. Nobody came through that door, who knew how long it'd been. Until they let him out he could only sit and think.
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It was strange, strange not having Travis there with him. It's crazy how easily humans could adapt to change in such a short time. Even if they didn't talk, his absence was off-putting to say the least. Not that Larry missed him, not one bute, it was just weird. Travis' bed laid empty, only a single Bible and his notebook sat on it.

Larry walked around the room bored, his jaw still hurting from the punch. He nearly felt bad for saying those things... nearly. Travis said awful things to him and everyone else all the time, so to him it was even.

His eyes wondered to the notebook, curiosity filled him as he hesitantly picked it up. Maybe there was something that could be used for blackmail, Larry thought but decided against it. Well for the most part. Opening the book there was torn out pages, and for what was written down  it was all scribbled out in dark pen ink. If he looked hard enough he could make out a couple of words, but nothing that could've made sense in an actual sentence. Every other page was blank, so he put it back where he found it.

"Damn." He muttered out laying against the window ledge, sipping the nasty water they gave them all.
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October 30, Sunday morning

It was happening to him again, he could barely get himself out of bed. Some days just had to be worse than others. He didn't want to move, not one bit; his body felt too heavy to do that.

"Hurry up, stop being lazy. You'll get nowhere in life if you act like a child." The nurse left after yelling at him for the second time, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He forced himself out of bed, running his hand through his hair before getting up to join the group. He took a shower yesterday so he didn't bother changing. He sat down at his usual spot, laying his head down in the table.

"You okay?" Philip tapped him on the shoulder.

"Just tired." It wasn't a complete lie, he did feel exhausted. More so than usual.

"Hm, how about you sleep a bit after breakfast?"

He put a half-assed thumbs up as he quickly wrote down his goal for the day. The rest of the day was a blur, walk to the cafeteria, eat, come back, try to take a nap and fail miserably. Time felt slow but was going fast at the same time.

"Larry, wake up." He felt a tap on his back. Opening his eyes, he looked up.

"It's almost time to leave. Thought you'd not want to be woken up in a panic so I woke you up early."

"Please tell me it's not P.E again."

"Nope, art therapy."

Larry sat up at that, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "Wait, really?"

"Yup. Thought you might be excited for that." Philip nudged him lightly.

The doctor came in the room with the jangling of his keys. "And that's our que."

Larry couldn't deny that this was a good thing. Out of all of his coping mechanisms, art was definitely the top of his lists, especially painting. So when he walked into the small room with paint and small canvases on the tables he felt a bit lighter. The familiar feelings of nostalgia and hominess from painting filled his mind with repose. Even if it was just for a bit, it would help distract him from the inner turmoil consuming his thoughts.

"Today we are going to do paintings, as you can see. For now we want you all to draw whatever you feel. We'll put on some background music to help those creative minds." More fake enthusiasm that wasn't convincing, how very.

Immediately the silence ended with the sound of some bland orchestra playing. It didn't matter, he always got lost in thought anyways, Sanity's Fall just sounded better. Larry turned his attention to the supplies in front of him. Plastic cup, paintbrushes, paint, paper towels. Just what he needed.

Closing his eyes he thought back to the most pleasant memory he could think of. A nice fall evening after school, Sal, Ash, Todd, and him were up in the treehouse, joking around as usual. Yet the conversation ended up differently. It was the first time they all opened up to each other about their struggles. It was a very intense yet important part of their friendship. It helped them grow closer, Larry couldn't have been more thankful; despite not liking to talk about that stuff.

It was nothing but smiles afterwards, it wasn't like nothing happened at all, but they couldn't help but be happy. Man, what great friends he has. Not to mention his mom. She called them in for some homemade cookies and hot cocoa. The way she pulled him into a hug and ruffled his hair the way she and his dad used to when he was younger. Cozy and warm, despite the colder season rushing in. That was home.

He opened his eyes and saw that little treehouse, full of the people he loved. All of them safe and sitting happily inside. It made him smile, yet he couldn't help but miss them. Their voices, their laughter, their love. Just a bit longer. He'll hold on for just a bit longer.

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