TW: MENTAL HEALTH/PILLS/SUICIDE MENTIONED
I looked at the white walls of my room in the psych ward, contemplating my life's decisions as I sat on my bed.
About six months ago I had gone so called "stone cold crazy" and my parents threw me into the looney house, or halfway house.
I mean, I did attempt to take my own life but I did in fact come to my senses and get help to patch up the lines on my wrists.
But to me, a halfway house is a horrible place to put anyone, sane or insane.
I took pills, my windows were barred, and I had little to no privacy.
My diagnosis consisted of depression, schizophrenia, bipolar personality disorder, and a whole bunch of other stuff I can't remember.
"Thinking again?" Dally asked as he sat on the edge of my bed.
"Yup." I sighed.
"About what?" He tilted his head.
"The new meds they put me on." I smiled dryly at him.
"No you're thinking about me." He shook his head disappointedly.
I shot up angrily. "What makes you think that?"
"Because I'm still here." He looked at me with his deep brown eyes, his dead eyes.
"Y/n, medication time!" The nurse peered into my room and handed me a number of different pills, which I swallowed forcibly with the help of a glass of water that sat on my bedside.
"Child, I though you had company with you talking to yourself and all." She chuckled as she left me.
"Hah...Yeah, company." I smiled before blankly staring at the spot where Dally once sat, or at least the illusion of him.
"Kid, you gotta let go." I looked to the side and saw him sitting by it and smoking a cigarette out of the barred window.
"You know I can't, Dallas." I let out a half laugh half sob.
"And why is that? I'm just a hallucination from your meds." He looked to me wearily, causing me to look down in shame of being so desperate.
"No, because if you were I wouldn't get complaints about how my room smells like smoke, and you know I don't smoke." I looked back up at him and although his blood ran cold and his eyes were dead, he looked at me with warmth and love, something no one would have thought to see even when he was living.
I knew Dallas Winston was dead to the rest of the world, but I would never forget him.
Although now I'm starting to, it's taking me longer than I thought it would.
