The Valley

Chapter 1

Word count: 2092
Authos notes:
This is NOT an accurate representation of auditory schizophrenia and mental hospitals. I did some research before hand on auditory schizophrenia and mental hospitals but it might not be accurate. Please correct me in any way if I upset anyone.
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I sat on the plain white bed, waiting to meet my new roommate. I had been in the mental hospital for 4 days, though it wasn’t my first visit. Even though I hadn’t been in the hospital for very long, the plain white bed and walls of my room were starting to drive me crazy with the whispers growing louder. The only places with lots of colour were the common area and the kids rooms. I was in the teen ward so I only had access to the common room. As I started spacing out I heard a knock at the door. I looked up to see a nurse and a tall, thin boy with blond hair and glasses. the nurse introduced him as Tsukishima Kei, though it was a bit hard to hear. 
“Hey! It’s nice to meet you, I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi,” I said as he sat on his bed. 
He nodded in response, sitting on his bed and setting a backpack on the floor. 

“If you don’t mind telling me, why were you admitted?” I asked him.
 He didn’t seem to want to be here, and I don’t blame him. Normally you’re crazy if you’re in a mental hospital, but a lot of time the people in mental hospitals are there for depression or attempts, like me. 
“I tried comitting suicide,” he mumbed under his breath. 
I could tell he didn’t want to admit it or tell anyone but it’s understandable. 
“Me too, the voices got too loud” I responded to make him feel better or set up a connection. 
He looked up at me with a confused look on his face, “Voices?” 
“Oh yeah. I have auditory schizophrenia, so I hear voices. I take meds to help, and don't worry, I won't hurt you,’’ I replied, a bit nervous that he would get scared of me. 
He nodded with a monotone expression, “I have depression and I got pushed to the edge.”

Tsukishima seemed to be thinking of the day. I had seen that spaced out look many times before. The look on you when you're having traumatic flashbacks. I had seen people like Tsukishima in the hospital before, the type that bottle everything up until they snap and then they don't talk with anyone, making them stay longer. Even though I always tried to help them they pushed me away.
Tsukishima looked up at me, “How long do you think i'll be here?”
“I’ll be honest, I think in a week or two, maybe more. The nurses want you to interact with people and you don't seem to like people or you'll scare them away,” I said, being blunt.
 I could hear my dad whispering to me that I'm just annoying him and that I'll just scare him away but I tried ignoring it. I knew it wasn't real but it sounded like he was with me, pointing out all my mistakes.
“I see,” he responded, nodding. 

He kept asking questions about the hospital and I answered. In response I asked him questions about himself and he was always conscious of how he answered though. Soon enough it was dinner and we walked out, I was talking and Tsukishima listening. We grabbed our food and sat next to each other, still talking. Normally around this time the voices started getting louder. I slowly started talking louder to cover them up. Tsukishma told me to quiet down and he could hear me well enough, even though I couldn't. I quickly apologized and continued our meal. As soon as we finished and were sent to finish up to go to bed Tsukishima excused himself to the bathroom so I waited for him in our room. I stopped by the sink to wash my teeth, looking into the mirror. My freckles were slowly disappearing, my dark green hair started becoming more and more of a shade of brown and now it’s natural green. The bags under my eyes grew from the lack of sleep. I quickly washed up, not wanting to look into the mirror for too long. I lay in bed, covered by the blankets provided and the extras my family had brought me. I was tired but the sounds of my dad and kids at my school yelled in my ears, keeping me up, like a lot of the other nights. Though some of them whispered they were mostly drowned out by the screaming of my father. The words “Crybaby” and “Loser” were coming at me from multiple people.