Supernatural Imagines/Preferences

Recovery~part 1 ~Sam

*May be slightly triggering. Discusses mental illnesses briefly*

I shouldn't be here. A unisex psychiatric ward. There's no reason for me to be here. What for? Just some unimportant bullshit. My room's small as well. Just a single white bed, a white table and a white chair. Everything here is white. My clothes, the rooms, the walls...

I once read that if someone spends too much time around the colour white, like here, they start to have vivid hallucinations. Some smart people here...

A faint knock on the already open white door interrupts my train of thought. It's probably time for 'group therapy'. It's where everyone sits in a circle and talks about why they're locked up in here against their own will. It's as fun as it sounds, but I guess it helps some people.

"(Y/N)? Time for group therapy." Mrs Sykes smiles warmly, making me smile back at her. Hannah is perhaps the nicest nurse that works here. And she's been here for me since the start. She's relatively new here as well.

She's about twenty four, has shoulder length black hair with a fringe and blue eyes. Sky blue. They're really nice and show how kind she actualy is. She usualy wears the colour black, which I'm thankful for. Sure, other workers here wear it too, but it just goes with her eyes and tattoos. And it's something else besides white. The boring, dull white. Her sleeves end at her elbows, showing off her beautiful tattoos. They're everywhere. Some in her neck, and some even on her face. They're beautiful though. Sometimes we talk about the meanings behind them. Although I'm surprised she got this job. Most employers prefer people without body modifications.

I slowly walk down the white hallway full of other patients, some crying on the floor and some just walking around aimlessly. There's a woman cackling maniacally. This really is a mad house. I see no reason as to why I should be here.

We walk into the white room where we have group therapy and sometimes just sit around, playing board games. That's about all you can do around here.

The weary looking people gathered in a cirlce look up at me, some rolling their eyes. I'm the last one here usualy. And today is not an exception. Again.

I look at the eight patients gathered in a circle and spot the only empty chair. It's white. Coincidence? Definitely not. Sometimes I think that they do this on purpose, even though they know it slowly makes you go more insane.

I sit down on the cold white seat, next to my best friend Kellin and a new guy. Kellin's the only one who really understands me here. The only one I've opened up to so far. He's so nice and understanding.

"Before we start, can you please choose today's song for us (Y/N)?" Dr Perry smiles and motions to the docking station in the corner of this white room, which a nurse is standing next to. Nobody else is allowed to so much as touch it.

About two years ago, we started playing quiet music in the background as it helps the patients focus. That's scientifically proven, actually. I think it was Dr Perry's idea, which I must admit is pretty good. So every day, someone gets to pick a song which the nurse plays on repeat while we talk about our problems.

Mrs Cooper, the nurse, walks towards me with a piece of small paper and a purple pen, handing it to me. It only happens every week or so that I get to choose, so I always think of something good. I scribble the song and band onto the paper and hand it back to the nurse.

For some reason, she refuses to communicate with any of us, which is technically the opposite of her job. I have no idea why she's still here. She walks back to the station and I turn my attention to the psychiatrist.

"Hello everyone, we have a new patient with us today. Would you like to tell us something about yourself and why you're here?" Dr Way addresses the man next to me. He does it in a kind way, not forcing you to answer if you don't want to.

The guy has soft looking brown hair that goes to his shoulders, beautiful whiskey coloured eyes with dark circles underneath and looks like he hasn't slept in days. I wonder why he's here. I'm sure they don't lock you up in here just because you have insomnia. He looks cute though.

The guy looks around the circle and clasps his hands together, looking down at the irritatingly white floor. "I'm Sam and I'm here because I've got very... Uh... realistic hallucinations." He trails off, still looking at the sickly white floor. Wow. He's like, the third person in this group that suffers from that condition. But I can see he doesn't believe it. He obviously doesn't believe its hallucinations. I'm not sure whether or not Dr Perry realised it yet. But he's good at reading people so I guess he does.

Dr Way nods in appreciation and takes some notes, moving on to another patient. That's when I zone out.