A day in the clouds

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When Phil finally gained consciousness, he felt a wave of pain and confusion.

At first, he didn't know what to think or do. He felt the clean bedsheets beneath and on top of him. He heard the faltering /beep, beep, beep/ of a machine that seemed to match his breathing. Phil didn't know what this place could possibly be. He had hoped that death would just be quick and easy, with nothing to worry about afterwards. At that moment he heard a faint voice in his head whisper, /You're probably in Hell, dumbass./

And, at that, Phil decided to open his eyes. It was a difficult task, as every muscle in his body ached. /There's pain after death?/ he thought. He never imagined that there was even anything at all following death, let alone a world where everything felt so real.

Phil slowly cranked open his heavy eyelids, but immediately let them drop back over his eyes at what he saw. In that moment, Phil realized that he wasn't dead. No...He had somehow.../survived/ the jump from his bedroom window. He groaned, making everything hurt more.

/Well, you deserved it, for trying to run away from yourself/ he told himself. /There's no escape, Philly, it's just the monsters - and you./

Before he knew what was happening, Phil was sobbing his eyes out. He didn't intend to - it made his entire body ache - and the demons...they'd call him weak.

"Because you are, Phil. You're a useless, stupid wuss," he said out loud to himself.

Phil contemplated what he should do. He could simply jump out of the window of this hospital right now. And it might be over. Then again, he might just break more bones, and be harassed even worse by his own mind.

He finally decided to just stay where he was. His entire body was weak anyway, he couldn't make it very far.

About 10 minutes later, a nurse entered the room.

"Oh, good, you're up," he said, and smiled at Phil.

Phil didn't even attempt to return the kind gesture. He sat in emptiness while the man rambled on for god knows how long.

"...So we'd like to ask you some questions," the nurse finished.

"Alright," Phil rasped.

Again, the man smiled at him. Phil felt like he was being mocked and made fun of, as usual. He sighed, and leaned back on his pillows, preparing for whatever was coming his way.

There was an awkward moment of silence between Phil and the nurse before two more people entered the room. One was a tall man with blonde hair and blue eyes, who Phil guessed was a doctor. The other was a woman who seemed quite young, with long, curly blonde hair. According, to her name tag, her named was Carrie.

"Hello!" Carrie greeted with a smile. "I'm the head teenage therapist here. You can call me Ms. Fletcher. And you're Phil, right?"

/She's gonna try to get us to leave. But it's not going to work!/
The demons sounded malicious. Phil was worried beyond comprehension about what they would do to him if he tried to force them out of his head. A shiver ran through his body, and he tried the hardest he could not to think about his own mind.

He then realized that Ms. Fletcher had spoken. "Sorry?" he asked faintly.

"Are you okay?" the psychologist asked, seeming concerned.

"Er...yeah...I'm fine," Phil stuttered.

As he was pounded with questions, he tried to focus all of his attention on the people asking them. He didn't want to have a break down in front of all these people. When the questioning was finally completed, the doctors told him that he would be staying in the mental ward for 5 days, and that he would be roommates with another boy around his age. He nodded, but on the inside, he was terrified. Phil had no idea who this guy was going to be, and he'd probably think Phil was a weak fag, just like everyone else always said.
/Well he wouldn't be wrong/
Phil put all his effort into making himself look normal on the outside, while he was in front of all these people.

About 10 minutes later, the blonde haired doctor who had been in the interviewing session, but hadn't said much, appeared at the door.
"Get some rest," he said. "You'll be taken to your room in the morning."

Phil, as usual, didn't sleep a wink that night. In the morning, he was brought a small suitcase filled with clothes. He donned himself in a pair of black skinny jeans and a jumper with foxes on it. He attempted to fix his toulouse black mess of hair, but didn't succeed well.

"Ready to go?" the cheeky blonde doctor asked from the door.

"Yeah," Phil mumbled sheepishly.

He grabbed his suitcase, which felt a bit painful considering the fact that he had fallen to the ground from a second story window just the day before. The doctor must have seen that Phil was struggling, as he took his suitcase for him.

"Thanks," he muttered.

Phil just now noticed that there was a thick layer of bandage wrapped around his right wrist. Great, he wouldn't be able to write anything.

/What good do you have to write anyway?/ The voices jeered.

Phil sighed for the millionth time today as the man leading him stopped in a dull hallway, and opened the door of an even more dull room, in which sat two beds, two desks, and a window. The walls were a sterile white color

The only bright thing about the room was the teenage boy sitting on one of the beds in the corner of the room.

~ Leo