Kenny Is Not Okay

Room check

Kenny had finally gotten his stitches removed.. and he also got his hoodie back. Now he was apparently more trusted. Not too trusted, though, because the string on the hood had been taken away. When Kenny put it on, he noticed something in the pocket. His blades were still there. Apparently it hadn't been searched well enough.

He didn't know what to do. Keep them? Turn them in? Use them? No, not use them. Kenny didn't come here to relapse. He'd lose control right away, and when he did, he'd probably open the wounds that were the thing that got him there. And he of course wanted to avoid it. He took the blades and threw them away, on top of all the other trash. Problem solved.

Later that night a nurse came to his room, bringing him his meds. Kenny took them, but she didn't leave yet.

"Mind if I take a look around? For prohibited items and such."

"Go ahead." Kenny said.

He thought everything would go well, he knew he didn't have anything, until..

"What are these?" the nurse picked the blades up.

"You guys left them in my pocket!" Kenny defended himself, with the truth.

"Well, why didn't you tell us?" the nurse asked.

"Look, I didn't use them, I tried to get rid of them. Isn't that enough?"

After checking his body for new cuts, the nurse continued with the room. There wasn't anything prohibited or anything. Only the blades, which weren't even brought by Kenny. He hoped the nurse wouldn't tell, Kenny was sure they wouldn't really believe him even if he told the truth. Suicidal kid sneaking in blades or nurses letting one have them?

The rest of the night he spent sleeping. Kenny didn't even do it that much normally. He was definelty suspecting that they kept giving him sedatives or sonething, even though they told him it was just antidepressants. He could understand them if they did that, though, of course it was easier to make him too tired to do anything than look after him. But he wasn't sure, he hadn't asked. Or maybe it was just some kind of side effect.

Damm, I need to stop overthinking. I'm becoming paranoid, he thought.