ANGST ANGST ANGST aNgsT AnGsT
MWA HA HA H A H A H AWords — 5,312
hAvE fUnTRIGGER WARNINGS : attempted suicide, self harm, fighting, swearing, homophobia, depression, anxiety, anorexia, PTSD, bipolar disorder, compulsive liar disorder, mental/verbal/physical abuse, slapping, attempted murder, panic attacks, death, mental hospital setting, Creutzfeldt–Jakob disease
~~FLASHBACK TO SUMMER BETWEEN FRESHMAN AND SOPHOMORE YEAR~~
Virgil POV
I forced my eyes open, cringing at the sunlight flickering through a window. Where am I?I moved, trying to force myself upwards on my elbows. I grimaced, pain shooting through my neck when I moved it.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Said a voice. "Your gonna make the cut worse."
"Wh-where am I?" I asked once I complete opened my eyes. My throat is hurting horribly. I was laying in a small cot, a weird beeping hospital machine thingy next to me.
"Hell," Answered the guy with a laugh that wasn't really in a joking manner.
I was in a small room; tile floors, white walls, two windows, a bed similar to mine across from me, two chairs and a small round table, and a door. That was it.
I turned to see someone. He was lounging in one of the chairs, looking at bunch of papers on a clipboard. He had dark brown hair and brown eyes and wearing some sort of hospital patient scrubs.
"I wouldn't talk either, or your gonna make the cut worse." He told me.
"What?" I asked. He dropped the clipboard on the table and looked over at me.
"You deaf or something?" He asked. "I said don't talk or your gonna hurt yourself."
"Where am I?" I asked again, ignoring what he told me. I don't really give two flying fucks about my personal safety.
"The New Dawn Mental Hospital." He answered. "Aka Hell." The panic started to set in now. I didn't want to have an attack right now, so I tried to distract myself.
"Like...like an...asylum?." I whispered, realizing why I was here. I raised my hand to my neck and ran my hand over the bandage. I looked down at my bandaged up wrists.
"Yeah, I guess so. I mean, it's technically a mental hospital, but Warden Hargreaves sure does like some not so approved of techniques to cure us."
"Oh," Was all I could say as the reality of his situation set in. I'm stuck in a mental hospital. An actual mental hospital. They think I'm crazy...
"Your a suicide attempt survivor," He said blatantly. "I read your file thingy." He said, picking the clipboard again. "And man, do you have a lot of issues. Sorry, that was rude. But damn; depression, anxiety, PTSD, anorexia, suicidal thoughts and actions. You got more issues than me and that's saying something."
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