"Apprehension, uncertainty, waiting, expectation, fear of surprise, do a patient more harm than any exertion."
-Florence Nightingale

She couldn't remember exactly how long she had been there, in that place. But she did remember the first day, when her father brought her to this strange place and spoke with a man in a white coat. She was still quite young, so didn't understand the complex things they spoke of. But she was perfectly aware of her father walking out and leaving her, shutting the door in her face so she couldn't follow.

He'd left his child in an asylum, deeming her mentally unstable and claimed he was unsuitable to care for her.

She knew the truth though, she was unwanted.

So he got rid of her, blowing her problems way out of proportion so she was taken in by the man in the white coat. Her father belonged here for abandoning his little girl to a place with frightening people and fake doctors. She didn't deserve to suffer like this.

She was mostly kept isolated, in a small white room with a bed and a toilet. It was a prison cell. But she hadn't done anything wrong. At least she thought she hadn't, she didn't know anymore.

As time went by, as time always does, people came, people left and people died. New voices cried in the night, and new doctors came to give her new drugs. She was allowed out now and again to mingle with other people, in hopes her social skills would improve. She met different people, yet gave them the cold shoulder, watching them owlishly, childishly curious.

And then there was him.

She though he was a demon the first time she saw him. It was back when she'd been newly admitted and was allowed to see the other children. Not surprisingly, there wasn't many other children. But then again, very few parents would abandon their children there so young. There had been two others. A loud blonde boy who ran around the room like a hyperactive ape, and then there was him.

His hair was the deepest, brightest red she had ever seen. His large aquamarine eyes were lined with black, reminding her of a panda. He was pale, and a tattoo stood out on the left side of his forehead. Kanji for love. He was curled into a silent little ball and ignored Hinata and the doctor, while the blonde boy ran over and started talking at a fast pace.

She never was told what they were in for, and she didn't tell them. She didn't speak at all actually and ended up sitting in a corner, the blonde boy having lost interest in her.

She was familiar with most of the people there now from just watching and listening. Some had terrible stories and were in awful states. A few were even criminals.

In all the years she'd been there her father had not once bothered to come see her. She waited expectantly, though uncertain from the start and even now she was still waiting. Didn't he miss her? He visited Okaasan while she was in a mental hospital for a while. She'd think her Okaasan was still alive if her cousin hadn't screamed the truth at her the moment he laid eyes on her before he attacked her.

He'd been brought in, apparently due to being unable to get over his fathers death. They'd been kept separate for the most part ever since.

But today was one of the days for her to be locked in her room. Her food and a glass of water was left for her and like usual she didn't touch it. Every few days she'd not eat and though unhealthy, she hadn't died yet. It was probably just another reason they thought she was insane. She had a visit with a few patients tomorrow though and she'd need her strength if any of them were feeling violent.

She'd been in a few fights being small and timid. To the aggressive patients she was easy prey. A few patients were tolerant or even kind to her, but she didn't really show the same courtesy.

To everyone she was withdrawn, closed off, mentally ill.

To her, they were all strangers, waiting for her to let her guard down before they hurt her.

It was sad, but life is sad. Life is tough, hard and unfair.

But she'd learnt to live with it for the most part.