Insane.

Chapter 1

After we walk back down the hall, we stop at the last one to the left. There's a small window on the white door so I can see through.

He's lying down in his bed with his back toward us, facing the wall. It doesn't seem that he's sleeping because he's moving his hands along the wall, with his fingers dancing around in perfect rythym.

"What's he doing with his fingers?" I ask.

"We think it's some kind of nervous habit. He does it a lot. Well, good luck." She sarcastically remarks and hands me the key. I take a deep breath and unlock the door.

He doesn't even flinch to the sound of me entering. He just continues to tap the wall and stare off into space.

"Niall?" I ask.

No response.

"It's time for your breakfast, Niall."

Nothing.

I set the tray down on the small desk next to the bed and sigh. I place my hand on his shoulder and whisper, "It's my first day here, please don't make me look bad." I say it in a begging way, but with a tint of humor.

His eyes move slowly to face me and he stops tapping the wall. I think a small smile grows on his face, but my eyes might be playing tricks on me.

He sits up slowly and I am finally able to see his face. His blonde hair lies messily across his forehead and slightly in his eyes, which are as blue as a the ocean. They've got yellow flecks in them, but only slightly. They would be quite beautiful if it weren't for the fact that they look so tired, so empty and hopeless. The skin around his eyes are darkened as if he hasn't slept in years, but there are no bags under them that would indicate sleeplessness.

He makes no eye contact and stares off into the distance, even though his eyes are aimed at me. His jaw is loose and his mouth hangs slightly agape.

"Niall?" I ask him cautiously, trying to gain some of his attention.

His eyes raise and meet mine, telling me that I have succeeded.

"Do you want some oatmeal?"

He looks over to it and shakes his head. I'll admit, it doesn't look very appetizing. It looks like off-white slop.

"Well you have to eat."

He sighs and reaches for the orange on the tray and slowly starts peeling it. He breaks the orange in half and pulls two of the slices out. He reaches his hand out and offers me one of the slices.

"Oh, how kind." I chuckle and take the orange slice.

He barely eats anything else, only like two or three more slices. But he does drink the whole glass of milk. I try to make him eat more, but he physically refuses by shaking his head and pushing the tray away from him.

"It's time for your medicine." I reach for his tray and grab the array of medicines before me. I read from his chart that he takes aripiprazole, which treats schizophrenia, escitalopram, for major depression and anxiety, and carbamazepine, which stabilizes his mood.

After taking the medicines, he lies back down on his bed and closes his eyes. I take that as my cue to leave and grab the tray and head for the door.

I'm almost to the door when I hear him mumble, almost inaudibly, "You didn't tell me your name."

I smile at the surprising action and reply, "It's Harley."

"Harley...." He yawns and closes his eyes again.

I close the door behind me and I'm embarrassed to find the other nurses surrounding the room in the hallway watching like hawks.

"What did you do?" Noelle asks astonishingly.