Disclaimer – all characters recognised from the Twilight series belong to Stephanie Meyer.

AN – ok guys. Here is a new story from me. I'm just gonna give you a quick summary.

Rated M for self-harm, drug use, and generally unhappy themes. This is not a happy story, at least at the moment. It contains some confronting themes, and graphic images. If you believe that it will be confronting or triggering for you in any way, please use your judgement as to whether or not you believe it will be a good idea for you to read.

Alice is a girl diagnosed with depression, Jasper has paranoid schizophrenia. Both of them have ways of coping, but do these coping mechanisms to their benefit, or detriment? When they are admitted to the same psychiatric ward, what will happen between the two of them? Will they be able to help one another?

Alice's POV

I felt a pair of arms wrap tightly around my body, and lift me, not so gently, from the seat. I groaned in frustration and anger, because it's all I could do. I tried to move my arms and legs to fight them, but they were just too heavy. I felt rain on my skin and something wet and hard beneath me, which I could only assume to be the ground. I wanted to scream and hit my head against something. My mind was still working a thousand miles an hour, even as I lost more blood. I had picked a place, on the south side of town, on a Sunday, where no one ever comes, and they'd still fucking found me.

Someone rolled me over onto my side, and began arranging my limbs, while I could feel someone else placing padding on my wrist and strapping it up.

My mind was screaming at them to stop, that they shouldn't be doing this, that I don't want them to do this, but they kept working over me. I felt the vibrations through the ground as another vehicle pulled up, and I could see flashing lights, even through my closed eyelids.

"What's her name?" a male voice asked.

A female voice, closer to me, answered "I don't know, we've searched the car, and her pockets and bag, there is no identification, and the car is unregistered," the voice paused for a moment before continuing; "there was a missing persons report put out for someone matching her description earlier this morning. If this is her, her name is Mary Alice Brandon, 18 years of age... suicide risk..." she stopped there, and I wanted to roll my eyes at her.

No fucking shit I'm a suicide risk. What do you think happened to me? I accidently fell multiple times on a blade, slashing my wrists open?

Two fingers wrenched my eyelids open, and a light flickered across in front of them multiple times, and then stopped suddenly, the fingers moved from my face, and something tightened around the top of my arms, then loosened, and tightened again. Something was on my middle finger, and someone was muttering in the background about blood pressure, pulse, and oxygen stats.

My mind was starting to slow now, finally. I was starting to lose bits and pieces of what was happening around me. I didn't feel myself being lifted from the ground, but all of a sudden I could tell that I was moving. I wanted to kill whoever got me in here, because, undoubtedly, I was headed to a hospital.

Someone grabbed my arm roughly, and wiped it with someone cold. I remembered this part, and braced myself for the sharp pain that was to come next. As predicted, all of a sudden a pain came and went, and my whole arm was suddenly cold, inside and out, I shivered involuntarily.

"Can you hear me?" the same male voice from before said, to me, I assume. I didn't say anything. I wasn't sure if I could or not, and I sure at shit wasn't going to try. I hated this man at the moment, as I hated whoever found me, and I hated whoever put out a missing persons report for me. If I lived, they were going to die.

I let myself slip into the darkness that was beckoning me. I didn't need to hear what was going on, and perhaps by being asleep it'd make this time go faster. I didn't want to be awake while they saved me, against my will.

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When I awoke from the darkness, I could hear beeping and the sounds of people walking around. There was a hand resting on my arm. I moved my arm away, trying to stop any contact with whoever it was. I didn't want to be comforted, or doted upon. I didn't want to be wherever the hell I was.

"Alice, are you awake?"

I wanted to scream as I heard my friend's voice coming from beside me. What the fuck he was doing here I did not want to know. Instead I opted for nodding my head instead, letting him know that I was awake.

"Oh thank god, I was so worried. Ally, why would you do that to me?"

This was my undoing. I didn't want him to fucking make me feel guilty.

"This was not fucking about you Joshua! You have no right to be here, let alone any right to make me feel guilty!"

Joshua's face dropped, and I could see the sadness and hurt in his eyes, but as with everyone else, he stood from his chair, and walked away; leaving me alone in this hospital. It was bound to happen, why would I prolong it? I let him walk away, not expecting him to come back anytime soon.

With Joshua gone, that left my family. My dad wouldn't come to see me; I already knew that from previous experience. My mom wouldn't leave, but I could ignore her. And my sister thought I was just insane, so any visit from her would last long.

I lay on my side, and examined my wrist. I was covered by a bandage, which I undid quickly. I didn't like having bandages over my cuts. Seeing them made me feel strangely better. I looked over my arm quickly. Two superficial cuts, with a total of 7 stitches, and then the cut on my wrist, which had 5 stitched on the surface, and an unknown amount of internal stitches. They would have had to. I know I hit the tendon sheath. I'd gotten the vein, and cut further, until I was too weak to cut any more. For I know they may have already put me into surgery, in fact, they probably had. But I wouldn't know until a nurse noticed that I was awake.

I began to pick at the stitches. From the way they were itching, I'd say they'd been in for at least 24 hours. That meant I'd been asleep for at least that long...

"Mary Brandon, stop picking at the stitches," a voice behind me chided. I looked around to see a nurse standing over me. I hadn't even heard her walk up. I narrowed my eyes at her, before moving my hand away from my wrist.

"Where am I this time?"

I had no idea what hospital I would be in this time. The last time I was admitted I was moved from psychiatric ward to psychiatric ward. No where would keep me; I was too challenging for them.

"Greenside Psychiatric Ward, of Saint John of God hospital."

Fan-fucking-tastic. A catholic hospital. I wasn't exactly an advocate for religions, after all the shit that had happened to me.

The nurse must have seen the expression of disdain on my face, because she said quickly "don't worry dear; you won't have to attend mass, or pray. We do not force Catholicism upon our patients."

The next hour passed in a flurry of tests. I was lying on the hospital bed, wondering when I'd be transferred to the actual ward. I was currently in the medical section of it. They didn't like to keep psychiatric patients in the emergency ward for too long.

The door opened and a young nurse walked in with a wheelchair. I looked at it sceptically, before looking up at her.

She let out a light chuckle. "I know you can walk Alice, but I'm not allowed to let you. My name is Chantelle, and I'll be your main carer. If you need anything while I'm on duty, you ask me." She smiled at me, and I raised an eyebrow back, before transferring myself from the bed to the wheelchair.

"How did you know to call me Alice?"

"It says on your notes. You dislike being called Mary. Most nurses wouldn't take that into consideration, and call you Mary anyway. I do not think that it would be fair to call you something you didn't want to be, simply because you're a patient here."

I was stunned by the nurse's words. She was right. No other nurse, in any hospital I'd been in had called me Alice.

She started to push the wheelchair out of the room, and down the corridor. We entered a lift, and took that to the ground floor. We left the foyer, and went outside, where it was bright and sunny, a stark contrast to the last day that I remember. I squinted, and looked around. There was a road, and across that, a pond. Next to it was a building about three times the size of an average house. It didn't look much like a ward from the outside, except that it had a large stone sign out the front, saying "Greenside Psychiatric".

Once inside the front doors, Chantelle stopped the chair, and put the brakes on.

"If you feel you're able to walk, you can stand up now. No point in wheeling the chair about this place, unless it's for fun."

I raised an eyebrow in question at her, but she just smiled and shook her head.

I stood from the chair, shakily at first, but I was soon able to follow Chantelle to the administration desk.

I filled out the forms for my health insurance quickly. I had done them so many times before that I had no difficulty.

Once I handed them back, Chantelle looked over to me.

"Ok, it's time to show you to your room, and give you a tour of this place."

I followed her, again. We walked through a large, what I assumed to be, fire-door. There was a cluster of 4 rooms to my left, and I expected her to turn into those, because they were close to the nurse's station. Instead we kept walking past the nurse's station, and up a hallway.

"There are 20 rooms here. It's reasonably small, and the patients here are all here under their own will after 3 days. You are free to leave after that, although it is not recommended that you leave until your designated psychiatrist says to. You will be in room 17," she finished, motioning toward the door of the room we had just stopped at.

I opened the door to see a bedroom sized room, with a real bed in the centre, against a wall. There was a large cupboard, to the right of the bed, and a desk to the left. In the wall behind and above the head of the bed was a shelf, with a plastic jug of water, and a plastic cup.

There was a door to my left as I stood in the doorway, and I had no idea where it led to. I walked into the room, with the intent to open the door, but I then spotted a small overnight bag on the bed. I walked over it, and opened it. Inside was a pair of pyjamas, a couple of tops, and my favourite pair of jeans.

I turned to Chantelle.

"Where did these come from?"

"Your mother dropped them off earlier this morning, when you were still asleep. She said that she'll be in later, after work."

I grimaced, and Chantelle said "you don't have to see her if you don't want to".

I just shrugged my shoulders, and turned to the mystery door. I pushed it open to reveal an ensuite, with a small shower head, without shower rails for a curtain, next to a toilet. There was also a sink, with a mirror, and cupboard space underneath.

"I get my own bathroom?!"

Chantelle chuckled behind me.

"Yes, we get that reaction a lot actually, by new patients. You do get your own bathroom. You are also allowed to keep the door closed for extended periods of time. This room is considered your space. We will only entire it with your permission, or if we believe that we are needed. It is preferred however that sessions with your psychiatrist and nurses take place in here, but that is entirely up to you. You're welcome to put up a few pictures of family and friends, and you're allowed one poster, so long as it isn't offensive or...depressing..."

Makes sense.

I nodded.

"Ok, well you can put those clothes away later. For now let me take you on a tour of the ward."

The dining room was next to a kitchen, where you apparently chose what you wanted to eat that night. Everyone was expected to appear at breakfast, and dinner. The tables and chairs were wooden, with metal legs. Everywhere else that I had been had plastic tables and chairs. There were 2 activity rooms that were used for group therapy sessions, which were run all day on the weekdays apparently. Again, we were expected to attend two sessions a day.

What amazed me the most though, was that there was a courtyard out the back, with people talking and smoking, with their packets of cigarettes, and their own lighters, without the supervision of nurse's, next to a small pond. Looking around I could see no security cameras. To top it all off, there was a gate, which opened to let people in and out. It wasn't locked. This entire ward was easy to leave if you wanted to, and yet no one seemed to even be looking at the gate. It seemed to me this place put a lot of trust in their patients.

The nurse left me a couple of minutes later, after showing me around the kitchen. I made myself a cup of peppermint tea, and went back to my room. Sinking down on the bed, I looked around. The entire wall opposite the door was a window, with two parts of it that opened.

I finished my mug of tea, taking the mug into the bathroom to rinse it out. All of a sudden I felt a familiar flash of anger course through my body, and I threw the cup against the tiled wall. A few moments later I calmed again. It always happened like this. I started to pick up the pieces, and putting them in the bin.

I examined one piece, which looked like it had an especially sharp edge, because the glaze was longer than the ceramic. I tested it by running it over the tip of my thumb. It was sharp. Sharper than a blade in fact. I closed the door of the bathroom, and locked it. The lock could be opened from the outside, but they would hopefully knock first.

I took off my clothes, and turned on the shower. I sat underneath the stream of water, which wasn't hot enough, even with the hot water as high as it could go.

Taking the fragment of shattered mug, I pressed down on my thigh, and ripped it across with as much anger as I could muster. Immediately I felt the anxiety and desire to punish myself ease. Again and again I pulled the piece of mug across my skin, watching as the blood flood freely from the open gashes.

Eventually I stopped, as I always do, and leaned back against the cold wall, letting the water hit my legs, producing a satisfying sting.

I lay down on the bed after I got dressed and stopped the bleeding, and lay on my bed, waiting for the announcement for dinner, I drifted into an uneasy sleep.

AN – please tell me what you think :) I will always try to reply to reviews. I will also make a podcast for this new story later tonight. The link to that is at the top of my profile.