Wild Ones - Teen Wolf fan fic

Echos

"Hello?!" I slammed my fist against the door for the thousandth time. It was after dark and I hadn't been let out of my room all day. I had been sitting with my back to the door for most of the daylight hours, listening to the bustle of other patients and nursing staff. Mrs. Burton had come with my lunch tray and explained all the rules and regulations through the food slot in the door, but ignored nearly all of my questions. After that I had been left alone again until supper. In frustration, I had kicked my tray back out the slot, spraying ravioli all over the hall. The staff that cleaned it up ignored my questions and profanity. I growled in frustration, banging my head deliberately against the door.

"Come on! Somebody!" I was answered with silence. Well, other than the constant screaming from a floor above, silence. I slid to a crouch on the floor. My throat was still constricted, but had begun to burn again. I rubbed my throat and attempted, for the hundredth time, to clear it. It was like having phlegm stuck in my throat and not being able to clear it. I growled in frustration and slammed my fist into the door frame, hissing in pain when the metal tore through the skin over my knuckles. I winced and examined my hand. The white bone of my middle knuckle shown through the skin that had split into a cut about two inches in length. I watched as blood began bubbling up from under the edges of skin.

"Hey, I, ugh... I need some help in... here." I froze, trying to process what I was seeing. The skin was pulling together, sealing itself right in front of my eyes. I watched until all that remained was a smudge of crimson across the back of my hand. No scab. No scar. I was in shock. What should have taken days, even weeks to heal had just taken place in mere seconds. I flipped my hand back and forth, in bewilderment.

"Are you hurt?" I jumped at the whisper. Looking up, I could see the tray slot was open. I scrambled to my knees, peeking through. It was the boy from before. His eyes were stunningly blue, framed by thick, dark lashes. His hair was dark brown and shaggy, hanging over his eyes and ears. He smirked. "Take a picture, it'll last longer. Are you hurt or not?" I blinked and shook my head.

"No, I'm fine. How come you're not locked up? It's after dark." His smirk grew. "I have my ways. How many days have you been on lock down?"

"This is my second night." He frowned. "So you've still got two more to go. Look, on the fourth day, they're going to have you start joining groups. I'll see you then. I've got to go. Gregory is probably snooping around." As he turned to leave, I reached out, grasping his fingers through the slot. "Wait! What's your name?"

"Alex." With that, he pulled his hand free and vanished. I sighed and sat with my back against the door, hugging my knees to my chest. Two more nights in this cage. My throat prickled painfully. I needed to feed again. I groaned and closed my eyes.

The next two nights went on much the same. I was let out of my cell only to use the restroom and shower, other than that, I was completely ignored. The screaming from upstairs seemed to get louder and louder every passing hour. I felt as though I was on the verge of a total melt down. Alex never came back to visit. My throat burned intensely. I had given up my post at the door, laying huddled up in the steel frame bed under my thin quilt. I shivered, wrapping the quilt tighter around me. I just couldn't seem to get warm. Even my breath seemed cool on my hands. Daylight peeked through the high windows of my room as I struggled to keep my eyes open. A sudden clang as the door swung open was enough to rouse me to a sitting position. A tall, frail looking woman stood in the doorway holding a clipboard. She regarded me with cold, pale green eyes, her lips pursed.

"Uhm. Hi?" I muttered, clearing my throat with some difficulty. Even to my own ears, my voice sounded rough, like sandpaper. The woman gave me a curt nod, then looked at her clipboard.

"My name is Magda Collins. You may call me Ms. Collins. I will be your one to one staff this morning. You will be on one to one status until the doctor you are assigned to determines that you are not a threat to yourself or others. It is fifteen minutes past six, so you have forty five minutes to shower and make yourself presentable for breakfast and groups. Breakfast is at seven and groups start at seven thirty. If you do not appear in groups, it will be seen as therapy refusal. You are allowed a total of three-"

"Three refusals and then the Doc can rethink my treatment plan. Yeah, I know. The old lady went over this already. But now that you mention it... What is my treatment plan? What am I being treated for?" I wrapped my blanket around my shoulders and stood, shivering when my feet hit the ice cold floor. Ms. Collins turned up her nose slightly, obviously annoyed and eyed the clipboard again. "It says here you are diagnosed with homicidal ideation, psychosis, and delusional thinking. You are a high risk patient and will no doubt be prescribed antipsychotics after the doctor has examined you. Your doctor will be Dr. H. B. Varnes. He will be your primary. Until you meet with him, you will be following the routine schedule. You will join the other residents for meals, groups, and activities. Now you have forty minutes to shower and dress. When I return, I will take you to the cafeteria. I trust you know where to find the bathroom?" Without another word, she vanished, her clicking heels the only evidence that she had been there at all.

I stretched and dropped the blanket. Hopefully a shower would warm me up a bit. I cautiously stepped out of my room, looking both ways down the hall. Other patients were being woken by other staff members and all the doors were open. A commotion came from a room three doors down and I watched as a young boy was dragged down the hall, clawing and trying to bite the two staff holding him. He couldn't have been more than ten years old. I shivered again, shaking my head. 'Not your problem, Artemis. He's here for his reasons, your here for yours.' I walked down the hall to the bathroom for a warm shower, ignoring the other patients emerging from their rooms. I noted the differences in age and appearances, but made no effort to introduce myself. No sense in getting too familiar.