Ward of Depression

Late Night Meeting

Warning! 

Stop and read. 

This chapter contains slight mature themes. 

Mentions and light descriptions of physical and sexual child abuse.

Descriptions of self harm.

Be Warned!

Logan wasn't sure how he had ended up in a psych ward in Toronto. He remembered feeling like he couldn't escape from his father. He couldn't escape thrown beer bottles, and random woman traipsing around the house naked. He couldn't fight off clenched fists, or block shins. He couldn't stop the glistening liquid that would come from underneath his skin, and he couldn't stop the sounds of his sister's screams ringing through his head.

He couldn't get rid of the image of his father thrusting himself into his sister's vaginal cavity. He couldn't get the sound of her screaming for him to stop, or the snap of her arm breaking after she hit their father, out of his mind. He couldn't get the pain of his broken leg out of his mind. He couldn't forget that he had taken one of the shards of broken beer bottles scattered around him, and that he had plunged it into his father's back.

He remembered calling an ambulance. He remembered his dad lying next to his sister, blood flowing from both of them. He remembered taking another shard of glass, and running it along his body. The glass was cold, and he felt pain wash through him as he ran it down his cheek. The guilt slipped away, and the pain in his leg had seemingly vanished. The glass grew slippery as the hemoglobin filled liquid poured from cuts all over his upper body. He passed out as the sound of sirens grew closer.

The doctor had told him that his father and sister were in the hospital. They had also told him that he had been hospitalized for depression, panic disorder, and possibly a situational phobia. He wouldn't be in the ward for long. Just long enough for them to be sure, and to teach him how to live with his newfound issues. He agreed, but asked what would happen to his sister. The doctor had smiled, and said she was going to go to a ward of patients that had lived through situations like hers. Logan smiled back, and walked around the floor.

He didn't meet Hunter Hollingsworth until a week later. The boy had been there for almost a month at that point, and he seemed like he was done with it. The shorter boy had been laying on one of the lumpy couches in the lounge, seemingly staring at nothing. His eyes were open, and his mouth was sealed tight. 

He was beautiful. Dark spiked hair that contrasted with his pale complexion. His eyes, though Logan could barely see them, were riddled with though (if his facial expression was anything to by), and were a piercing blue. His body was awkwardly positioned, but he seemed to be comfortable.

"Hey." He exclaimed, startling the young Hollingsworth from his thoughts. Hunter looked at him. "I'm Logan. I was looking for someone who would talk to me, and you didn't seem too busy."

"Hunter." The boy responded, eyeing him up and down.

"Any interest in science fiction?" He asked. They spent their free time discussing Star Trek.

Being trapped in a hospital with someone for two weeks, really brought you closer. Logan learned that as he and Hunter grew closer. They talked about minuscule things, but the expressions the younger man produced continued to melt his heart. His smirks, his intelligence, his manipulativeness. It was all wonderful in every way.

When Hunter kissed him, it was a big surprise. Hunter had never told him that he was gay, but Logan himself had been out from the start. The other teen hadn't really struck him as gay, but then again, he himself didn't always come across as gay straight away. It was sort of the same as how their depression never really ever showed to their friends and families until they were at the breaking point.

The kiss wasn't anything magical. Their inexperience showed, and the muscles in and around their mouths seemed to atrophy in their shocked states. Logan made a quick grab for Hunter's hips, and brought one hand to the back of his head. Maybe being in a psych ward wasn't going to be so bad after all.