Nightingale

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ANGST ANGST ANGST aNgsT AnGsT MWA HA HA H A  H   A     H      A

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ANGST ANGST ANGST aNgsT AnGsT
MWA HA HA H A H A H A

Words — 5,312
hAvE fUn

TRIGGER 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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