Okay, I have an awesome story planned out, and I had to start it! So here you go! BTW, this story may contain slash later.

Getting Better

Chapter 1: Mean Mr. Mustard

George POV

I'm not crazy.

I don't care what they say. I don't care what you say.

I'm normal.

Kind of.

Okay, I'm not normal. But I'm not crazy, either. It's been going on for a while. The voices, I mean. They're always in my head, these annoying voices that don't seem to ever go away. They tell me really cruel things. That no one loves me, that I should die, that I'm a piece of shite. I used to listen to them. The first time it happened, I was seven. I didn't know what they meant, and they scared me. I never told anyone. I'm fifteen now. I thought they were true. The first time I attempted suicide, I was eight years old. I tried hanging myself. I used my sister's old scarf. Our home didn't have two floors, so I went to a huge oak tree in the forest next to our house. An elderly woman found me and brought me home. Attempt one failed.

Attempt two was running into traffic. I was twelve that time. There were about five cars zooming down the street and I ran in front of them quickly. But, just my luck, they screeched to a stop. Attempt two failed.

Attempt three was last week. I tried pills. But of course, that didn't work. I didn't take enough. I was just unstable for two days in the hospital. My mother was going crazy. She didn't understand why I hated my life.

Attempt three failed.

Now I'm here.

At Gertrude Home for Mentally Unstable Teenagers. I sat in the car, on the way there, just thinking about my life. I'm really messed up, aren't I? I told my mum about the voices two weeks ago. It was getting worse, like causing me headaches and stuff. She brought me to the doctor. He said I wasn't schizophrenic. He actually doesn't know what's wrong with me. No one does. It's scaring me.

What if my life was different? I could maybe have friends, maybe a girlfriend. I've never had a girlfriend in my life. Pretty sad, eh? I can't even die right. I sighed as we pulled up to the Building. As we, I meant my mother and I. I already said goodbye to my siblings at home. I scrambled out of the car as it came to a halt and took my bag from the trunk. I was pretty poor back home, so I only had one large bag with all my things. I slowly walked up the large path to the ugly building. It was all a dark brown with one large green strip circling around it. God, it looked like a prison.

"Bye, love you, have fun." My mother said and scrambled back into the car. I quickly pulled out and drove away. I stood there, shocked. Well, nice to know my mother cares about me. I took a shaky breath and pushed the huge wooden oak doors open. A strict looking man sat at a large desk filled with papers and folders. To my right, was a long and narrow hallways with door lined up and down. In front of me, were glass doors to court yard.

I walked up to the desk and cleared my throat awkwardly. The man looked up slightly to meet my eyes. I smiled slightly. He just scowled and crossed his arms on the desk.

"And you are?' He asked rudely. I gave him a 'really bitch, reeeaally?' look and crossed my own arms.

"Harrison. George, Harrison," I said, trying to sound mysterious. He rolled his eyes, the scowl staying on his face.

"Right. I'm Mr. Mustard-"

I snorted and quickly put a hand over my mouth.

"Mr. Mustard?" I asked, giggling like a kid. He glared at me.

"You little-"He started but was cut off with a hand on his shoulder. Behind him stood a boy with large hazel eyes and a button nose. His hair was put into an Elvis style and he had a smirk on his face. Perfect white teeth were shown under his light pink thin-ish lips. He was wearing a leather jacket and dark blue jeans, with converse.

"You wanna finish that sentence, French's?" The boy tested. "It's very rude to insult young teens when you first meet them. Get to know a kid before you go ape-shit on them. Kay, Dijon? I got it from here," The boy said and motioned for me to follow him. I walked down the hall with the boy, leaving Mr. Mustard red with anger at his desk.

"I'm Paul. What's your name?" The boy asked.

"Me name's George," I said, shaking Paul's hand.

"Why are you here? I have multiple personality disorder. Quite embarrassing, actually. I can be a tough brave man one minute, and then a shy one in just a matter of seconds. Gets really frustrating. What's wrong with you?" He said.

"I've tried to commit suicide three times. I hear voices in my head too. It's really weird," I said quietly. He didn't like talking about his problems in front of other people.

"I think we'll be great friends, George," Paul said and grinned.

I smiled I bit and shook his outstretched hand. I actually made a friend and I've only been with him for thirty seconds. Maybe I can make more friends…

"I'll introduce you to John and Ringo. Well, Ringo's name is Richard but we call him Ringo because he's got all those bloody rings on his fingers. He has ADHD and OCD. I've got to admit, he kinda scares me sometimes, but he's a great lad. John…well… no one knows what's wrong with Johnny boy. He's really mad all the time. So if he's a real bastard to you, don't take it personally," Paul said with concern. I shrugged my shoulders and walked with Paul down the long corridor. There was a flight of stairs at the end, which we climbed, and we went to the third floor. More doors.

"John and I share a room. It's mandatory to have a roommate. You're sharing a room with Ringo. Don't be nervous. George, you okay? You're shaking like a leaf," He said.

I didn't even notice I was shaking uncontrollably. I tried to stop. But I just couldn't. I felt my eyesight blur. Don't cry. For god sakes George, don't cry.

I leaned against the wall the slid down, burying my face in my hands. Tears started cascading down my cheeks. My silent crying turned into unruly sobs and my body shook even more. I rocked back and forth and continued to weep. Paul sat down next to me.

Paul hugged me and stroked my hair. And comforted me. In all my years of living, no one had done that. It felt good to know someone cared for me.

"Shh…it's all right, Geo. Everything's goin' to be alright, mate." His voice was calm and soothing. My cries died down and I stopped shaking as much.

"It started when I was seven," I started. Might as well tell him everything. He looked at me in interest and listened to what I had to say. "I never really had any friends as a kid. I was really lonely. As I said, it all started when I was seven. I started hearing voices in my head. At first, I thought it was the other kids making fun of me. But their mouths weren't moving. It's like a had my own personal torturer.

"I hated the voice. It would tell me things a normal kid shouldn't be told. It would tell me to commit suicide. It told me no one liked, me, that I wasn't good enough. I didn't know what to do. I was so scared, Paul. I kept it to myself. I didn't even tell my own parents. My parents didn't and still don't give a crap about me. My dad left us when I was five. Said I was the reason he was leaving. My whole family turned on me. The next year, when I was eight, I couldn't take it anymore. The voices were loud.

"I went to a nearby park with my sister's old scarf. I tied one end to a strong branch and the other around my neck. I tried to commit suicide. I tried to end it. I was about to let myself suffocate, when an elderly lady saw me. She literally dragged me away from the tree and brought me home. That was only the beginning.

"I tried again when I was twelve. This time, I tried getting hit by a car. My street was always a busy one. I ran out in front of them. I was so stupid. The cars just screeched to a stop. The voices just kept getting louder. It was just so hard to die.

"The last attempt was last week. I tried over dosing. I didn't take enough of them. I was unstable in the hospital for two days. That's when I told my mom about the voices. They were too much. It was causing me headaches and they hurt physically and mentally. So I'm here."

Paul stared at me wide eyed.

"I'm so sorry, George. No one deserves that. Least of all you," He whispered. It was his turn to cry.

And I hugged him when he was sobbing.

Paul opened the door to him and John's room. I've got to admit, I was really scared to meet John. He sounded really cold and mean. I sighed inwardly and cautiously followed Paul in.

"Hey John," Paul greeted warmly.

"Hey Paul. Who's the string bean?" 'John' said, gesturing towards me. I frowned and shoved my hands in my pockets.

My name's George," I said calmly. "I'm new here," I said shrugging my shoulders, trying to play it cool. He nodded and studied my face. It was quite awkward, to say the least. He was just staring at me.

"Are you gay?" He questioned suddenly.

"Erm..no. Why?" I asked, my ears reddening.

"You look like poof," He said and went back to the book he was reading. Isn't he lovely.

"Paul, where's Ringo's room?" I asked. I didn't want to be in the same room as John.

"Just across the hall, newbie," John answered dully before Paul could answer.

"Thanks," I mumbled and gave him one more stare and walked out of the room.