I found myself stiff against the leaf covered ground, Fiona by my side. We panted in unison, but neither of us broke the silence. I took in the scent of the scene through my nose: gasoline, recent rain, and rotten ensure soaked somewhere in my clothes. I leaned against the greeting sign that read, "Welcome to St. Augustine" and spaced out in the silhouette of the hospital. The inpatient unit flashed red, and the cops finally began pulling into the vicinity. Fiona hesitated, but settled against the sign beside me. She ran a hand through my hair, and then down my arm, where she grabbed onto my hand like it was the only thing she owned. "What now?" TW: Mental Illness, Hospitalization, Eating DisordersAll Rights Reserved
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