The Hospital Room (Cashley & Jindy)

Chapter 4

~Jake's POV~

I guess it was somewhat okay here, it was never going to be good though. I'm in a hospital for my terrible overwhelming depression and self-harm.

I don't even know how long I'd been here for; I didn't bother keeping track of the days. There was no point in that of course... that would only depress me further, so instead. I ignored time.

I focused on doing something else to take up my time. I'd sleep, think... sometimes talk to the others in the room. They were all messed up. We were messed up.

My parents had always known something was up with me, they had marked it down as teenage angst at first though... then the marks started to appear. They'd see and not speak.

That was until my dad found me nearly dead in my bathroom, blood running freely to wherever it fell. I don't think it was a suicide attempt, I just got... carried away, and I had been upset, over what? I don't remember. It didn't really matter all that much now.

I don't see why I had to come here, I was dealing just fine with it at home. All I do here is sit and wallow in self-misery, except for the times when they'd take me to visit the therapist.

I guess the lady was nice, but I don't exactly want to talk about what made me this way, I'd never want to think about it. It's not exactly going to be something happy...

Obviously.

Right now I was just waiting to be collected for the therapist, I knew it was sometime soon, Jinxx was out, he always went before I did.

I don't understand what he'd even do there though, he can't exactly speak. I've seen him sitting drawing every once in a while though. I haven't seen what he'd draw, but, Andy had.

Apparently he was good at drawing, would draw amazing things but he didn't like to let people see them. I understand that though, it's his special thing that no one else gets to have.

My thing is books and writing music. I'd sit and read and then I'd write music in my notepad whenever I had the time alone, when no one bothered me.

"Jacob Mark Pitts." A voice sounded from over by the door.

Time for therapy.

I got up and walked over, slowly. I hate this, I hate therapy, and I don't understand what good it's going to do. I'll just have to relive the bad moments in my life. Like when my mum...

I shook my head to clear my thoughts, not right now Jake. You don't need to break down in the middle of the room. Instead, I just followed the nurse as she led me to the therapy room.

I was sat down in the chair and then I was left to myself while my therapist gathered her things together. Like the folder with notes on my mood, hobbies, likes, dislikes.

She came in and sat down opposite me, laying the black folder down on the desk in front of her. There was a white, fairly new label that read; 'Jacob (Jake) Mark Pitts'

"Good afternoon, Jake." She smiled at me.

"Afternoon, Chloe..." I muttered. I really don't feel like talking about this today.

"How're you feeling today?" Chloe asked, opening the folder to the page of my 'mood' chart.

"Depressed." I answered honestly.

"I see..." She said quietly as she wrote down my answer.

"Shall we talk about why you feel depressed? Is there something bothering you from the past?" She pressed, just like every other day when I said I was depressed. I hadn't ever told her before.