Fault. - H.S.

-3-

Harry sighed at himself, embarrassed by the fact that he had just appeared so weak and nearly cried at the fact someone was trying to read his journal. He wished he could be stronger, he wished he could be out of this place.

"Pathetic," the familiar voice in his mind arrived abruptly, before making just as sharp a departure.

Before the situation progressed, Harry finished his breakfast, his hunger making him determined to clear it all and then he returned to his small bedroom. He decided to take a shower, knowing just how calming the way the feeling of warm water on his back could be so soothing.

Turning the shower on, he sighed in relief at the relaxation. He softly massaged some shampoo through his long hair before taking to his body to clean it thoroughly. He let his fingers rub gently along his skin as he cleaned it with body wash.

His fingers traced over his tattoos that had not been made visible at the institution yet as they'd been kept under his long sleeve shirts. He smiled to himself, for he adored the way that ink stained his skin almost just as much as the way that ink from a pen would stain a fresh sheet of paper. He looked over his favourite marking, a rose that covered a part of his left arm and couldn't help but wonder what an inked daisy would look like next to it. Then he shook off the thought, getting too far ahead of himself with the thoughts of Kooky and quickly turned the shower off and wrapped himself in his towel.

As he dressed, deciding to put on a plain t-shirt to deliberately make his tattoos visible, there was a knock on the door. Once decent, he swung it open and was greeted by his nurse.

"Hello Harry!" she exclaimed, "How are you today?"

"Fine." He shrugged morosely.

She smiled weakly at him, "It's time for your first therapy session. Have you had your meds today?"

"Yes," he replied remembering how they were practically forced on him when he walked into the cafeteria for breakfast. 

"Good, let's get you to therapy then," she exclaimed.

Harry followed the nurse as she lead him through the corridors and into a small room where a middle-aged woman sat behind a desk. She seemed notably short, and to Harry a little  intimidating.

"Take a seat Harry. My name is Sandra by the way," she greeted him, pointing to the brown leather sofa. How cliché Harry thought, remembering the amount of movies he had seen in which a therapist put their patients on a leather sofa.

"How are you doing today?"

"I'm, er I'm good," Harry spoke hesitating.

"How are you getting on here at the institution?" she continued her questioning.

"Alright, I guess. I mean I do miss my mum a lot. Which is kind of embarrassing for a 20 year old guy."

"Why is it embarrassing?" the therapist asked.

"Because I'm 20. I'm a guy. Surely there's things I should miss more than my mum but I guess she just makes me feel better when things.. get um bad."

"She's a comfort then?"

"Yes," Harry nodded.

"Can you not seek comfort in something else. For the times when your mum isn't there?"

"Oh I do," Harry was quick to reply. "I mean, writing. I love it. I just get such satisfaction from seeing ink flow so smoothly across a page."

"Is that why you have tattoos also?" The middle-aged woman asked, having obviously taken note of the many drawings that marked his skin.

"Yes, I suppose."

"Mmm, so have you made any friends since you've been here?"

"Well I only arrived here yesterday," Harry replied. "But there is this one girl." Harry smiled at the thought of Kooky.

"Tell me about her."

"Well, I saw her when we had to do arts and crafts and I just watched her for a while. She had this daisy in her hair and it just looked cute, it went so well with her long blonde hair. And she was concentrating so much on the picture she was doing, which surprise surprise was also a daisy." Harry chuckled a little before continuing, "Then she spoke to me and told me I wasn't crazy. She told me my mind and her mind and everyone's here just had a fault, and I liked that. It was clever. And then I joined in and made some pictures with her, I mean I thought the activity was lame but it was fun with Kooky. I think she thought my artistic skills were poor but it was funny regardless."

"You seem to like her a lot," Sandra replied noting Harry's admiration.

Harry only nodded in response, not sure how to approach the situation. Sandra took this as a cue to ask another question.

"So, how are the voices Harry?"

Harry was taken aback not expecting her to suddenly bring it up. "Oh, erm. Last night they were bad."

"Yes, you had another episode I believe."

"Yeah," Harry replied timidly.

"Okay, how do the voices make you feel?"

"Belittled," Harry replied truthfully. "They're rude, they say harsh things. And the more I try to fight them, the worse they get."

"That is often the case Harry. We hope the meds you are on will help you. But a good thing to remember when you next have an episode is what you just said, the more you try the worse it gets. Ignore the voices as best you can and just try and relax if they come at you. Okay?"

Harry listened intently, and nodded. "Okay." He knew however, that ignoring and relaxing was easier said than done because he'd tried it before and it had never worked.

He was glad to leave the therapy session as he knew he could go to support group, which today consisted of everyone sitting in a circle and talking about their problems. He was happy about it because he knew Kooky would be there.

And when he walked through the door, he wasn't disappointed, she was there and next to her was an empty seat. He took it upon himself to sit beside her.

"Hello," she spoke happily.

"Hello Kooky," he replied, grinning at the daisy in her hair.

"You looked nice last night, I liked your pyjamas," he spoke to her remembering how he saw Kooky before he slept.

She looked at him confused. "Last night? Pyjamas?"

"You. Didn't you see me last night? You came to my bedroom?"

"No Harry. I was in my room all night," she answered.

"Oh," Harry replied embarrassed as he came to the realisation that he had not seen Kooky at his room last night. It had been a hallucination.

A/N: If you're reading please tell me what you think by voting or commenting.

Idk whether to continue this as i don't think it has much interest and like this chapter is really crap idk. Let me know if you think it's worth continuing?