As Fragile as a Grenade

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     When you reach the campus of Maine's Hospital for the Insane, you enter an enormous building that towers over you and fills you with the dread of releasing your freedom to the hands of your caretaker. The interior is overly cheery, with pale pink walls and "inspirational" quotes to convince you that you aren't that crazy.

     You're seated in stiff, blue chairs that clash tremendously with the rest of the room; your family sits or stands around you, grasping shoulders and wearing false smiles. You're assigned a room, and after blank stares and tearful goodbyes, you enter your degree of hell.

     You'll look at other patients and think, At least I'm not like her. But, in a way, you are like her. You're in there for a reason. Maybe it's because you spent a month in bed, too depressed to even get up and use the bathroom. Or, the voices started up again, and you almost stabbed your family in the process. Whatever reason, you're shoved into this building full of the damned and those caring for the damned.

    But hey, it gets better, right?

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Sorry for the short chapter omg/.\

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