Going to sleep at the end of the night was... rough . They doled out nighttime meds after dinner, and sent everybody to bed way earlier than what he was ever used to. At 9:30, every resident was back in their rooms, Hunter included. His roommate was also there. A shy, meek human boy a year or two younger than Hunter. He had faded blue colored hair and was probably the skinniest person he'd ever seen.
They introduced themselves, which was strange and disjointed. Then, both of them quietly laid in bed. Hunter stared at the ceiling, his roommate fell asleep surprisingly quickly. Hunter had already forgotten the kid's name by the time he closed his eyes.
Just like at the hospital, nurses came by at every hour, shining flashlights into rooms. A few times a night he was woken up to the sound of nurses talking to patients and dealing with issues. The whole ordeal was incredibly obnoxious. He spent most of the night awake, staring at the inside of his eyelids. The only thing that his sleeping medication did was make him feel exhausted and irritable.
When morning came, he thanked the Titan as they announced breakfast. Any relief he got from finally feeling able to get out of bed was quickly washed away by the food the hospital served.
I've been spoiled with Mrs. Noceda's delicious cooking... This shit is worse than the Emperor's Coven , he realized as he put his first bite in his mouth. It seemed to coagulate in his mouth as he chewed it. How does somebody mess up eggs this bad?!
Only half his plate was empty by the time he finished. Looking around at the other people who silently sat with him, he noticed that their plates looked similar. Workers came around with trashcans and he pitched the leftovers forcefully into the bin. This Human Realm psychiatric institute was not impressing him at the moment.
A nurse fetched him shortly after breakfast, inviting him back into the same psychiatrist's office as before. She greeted him with that same, stiff closed-mouth smile from yesterday.
"Well good morning! So happy to see your smiling face in my office again, Hunter." She told him. His scowl deepened as he offered his own... pleasantries.
"I have some exciting news for you: Based on your BMI and body weight, we've decided to decrease your dose of Sertraline. I understand that SSRI's can make some people feel a little strange, and hopefully the new dose will make you feel a little more like... you!"
Maybe this was actually good news. He'd been on the Sertraline for long enough that he didn't really remember how it felt to be off of it. She smiled at him, handed him a small paper cup of medication with some water, and then he was on his way.
Next on his schedule was therapy. The hospital adjusted his therapy schedule in just a few ways; now he had two therapists, Mrs. Rose, and a new one. Once a day in the morning he would talk to Mrs. Rose over video chat, and in the afternoon he would meet with the new therapist. Peppered in between sessions were other various activities, including free time, group "talk time" (whatever that meant), meals, and impromptu daily activities.
Time seemed to drift by slower in the psych ward. There was very little human technology allowed in this place; No phones, only a single TV that was kept off for much of the day. He dug through his bag to try to find the iPod, and found (with extreme displeasure) that it had been confiscated when they searched his bag at intake. This only motivated Hunter to try to get out of this stupid place faster. His goal was to be out by the end of the week.
By his second therapist appointment of the day, he was irritable and tired. This new therapist also had a very approachable demeanor, her office full of soft plush couches and low lights. He did his very best to dodge every single one of her questions, opting instead to explain that he was doing great, the medication was working great, and everything was great . She seemed not to buy his lies.
By nighttime, his mouth was dry, his brain overwhelmed with irritation, and he felt so over-socialized despite the fact that he'd chosen to only talk to adults and doctors during the day. Other kids in the ward tried to talk to him, greeting him, asking him for his name or to join him on his solo adventures and he pushed them all away. He wasn't here to make friends. He already had friends. His scars tingled.
"They probably think of you as a lunatic, you know." The infamous skull told him as he brushed his teeth. Hunter rolled his eyes. It wasn't like he could respond, not with a male nurse waiting just outside the bathroom for him to emerge for bedtime.
His second full day in inpatient began with a headache. When he sat up, he was dizzy, but only just . At least he'd actually slept a little better. The exhaustion from a shitty night of sleep the day before and a long day of talking about his stupid feelings had at least allowed him the simple pleasure of rest.
Breakfast was nauseating, but no worse than the day before. He took his Sertraline and went to his first therapy appointment of the day. Mrs. Rose was unconvinced that he was doing well, despite his overwhelming insistence.
"Hunter, this place is brand new to you, and I know that kids in your situation can struggle with new things. You're used to a very different way of living. I don't mean to be rude, but I can very clearly see that this is a big adjustment for you." Mrs. Rose pointed out over video chat.
"Fine... I guess the food hasn't been my favorite so far." That had been some of the least of his worries.
She nodded thoughtfully. "What else?"
"Uhh..." I don't want these random humans talking to me, the nurses are all curt and strict, and I just want to go back to my normal life because I really believe that I am just fine. He couldn't reveal his intentions to leave or else she'd see right through him. "The beds are also uncomfortable."
She sighed. "Honey, I know that neither of those things are your biggest focus... I can't help you if you aren't ready to accept that help."
I'm not ready, I'll never be ready, I'm not interested in stupid talk therapy.
"Longing for a life that you can't have anymore, Golden Guard?" Belos's voice jeered from somewhere behind him.
In the evening, he went to his first talk time session, which turned out to be a bunch of teenagers sitting in hard plastic chairs sharing their feelings. Hunter sat slumped with his arms crossed protectively over his chest. The kid sitting next to him reeked of tobacco. It made his persistent headache even more persistent.
The other people in the room talked about a wide variety of things. Each of them seemed to have terrible traumas of their own: Abuse, assault, addiction, self harm, neglect, and death. Hunter's own traumas (could he even call them traumas?) seemed to dwarf in comparison.
"You've made such a big deal out of the minor events of your life, Hunter. Look at how these humans have suffered. Your supposed struggles are nothing." That same grating voice said from underneath his flimsy plastic chair. Hunter picked at his fingers as he listened to everyone else.
Bedtime took forever to arrive. He tried his best to whittle away at the time by drawing, chewing at the inside of his cheek, and spacing out. Despite the decreased dose in medication, he felt more dissociated than ever. He missed being able to wear shoes. Maybe tomorrow he'd try to go outside and play sports or something. The doctor that practically chatted Darius and Camila's ears off did advertise outdoor time.
Day three was long, boring, and unfulfilling. The nurses were starting to get on his nerves with their insistence that he eat every bit of food at every meal. They stated that he was underweight, and that he would be placed under "eating disorder watch" if he continued to refuse food. Hunter desperately wanted to say that the food was gross and that he wasn't hungry either. The Emperor's coven had kept him skinny for 16 years, and he frankly saw nothing wrong with losing a little more weight.
Every day he checked in with so many doctors and therapists. His plan to get out early by convincing each of them floundered and faded. His therapists gave advice that he did his best not to take. Every second he grew more irritable and grumpy and numb.
That brief time surrounding his overdose where he felt vaguely present and... alive seemed to be drifting further and further away. He hated the all consuming emptiness. To combat it, he spent his free time trying to come up with plans to escape. He couldn't use his powers and reveal himself, so he was stuck with using other skillsets.
Darius and Camila visited on day four, which did put him in a good mood. They updated him on the Demon Realm, brought more notes from his friends, and even gave him some new clothes. Hunter longed to be able to use Camila's sewing machine. The best of their gifts was a book about wolves, which he planned to spend the entire night reading. His caretakers' visit was unfortunately incredibly short lived. After an hour of feeling warm and happy, they excused themselves to leave, and he was escorted back up the elevator.
Worse still, they did not allow him to read his book after dark. A nurse took it away from him as he sat in front of a window, squinting at the words while everyone else slept. The lack of autonomy in this place was stifling, almost suffocating. Despite these feelings, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction for defying the system.
The longing for freedom penetrated through the overwhelming exhaustion and numbness like a sharp needle, and Hunter was desperate to hold onto that feeling as much as he could.
i'll tell y'all rn that Hunter's gotta get just a liiiittle worse before he really starts to get better. I've got some fun plans >:)