"I don't want to leave Willow-Vale... I feel safer here than I ever have before."
In which Elle Williams is admitted to Willow-Vale psychiatric unit after numerous suicide attempts. They told her there's no cure for her insanity and she believed th...
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I sat in the corner, my knees to my chest, just observing my surroundings. I must admit, I don't hate Willow-Vale. Of course, no one wants to be locked away but it could be worse- at least here I'm safe.
"Blondie!" I heard Linda yell from across the room, her voice instantly distracting me from my thoughts, "over here!"
Unsure whether she was talking to me, I sent her a questioning look to which she nodded and waved her hand around. The very last thing I wanted to do was go over but she wasn't asking, she was telling.
"Hm?" I hummed as I approached her, ensuring to keep a small distance between us- I couldn't bare the stench of cigarette smoke emanating from her.
Linda shuffled in her position, bringing her slouched posture up but only slightly, "do you like art?"
I used to.
I found myself frozen, unable to speak. For a moment we were just looking at each-other until Linda broke our eye contact, "Billie!" She snapped, waving her arm once again.
Billie?
"What?" I heard a familiar voice, she sounded pissed and when I checked behind me her face confirmed my thoughts.
"Can you show Blondie where the art supplies are?" Linda asked but I could tell it wasn't a question, I think Billie could too.
Billie turned her attention toward me, looking me up and down, "mhm."
With that, the blue-haired girl began walking left, and without thought, I followed. I hadn't realised til now just how big the room was. A bunch of shelves were jotted around, they created something that resembled a maze. It almost felt like walking through a library, but small boxes sat where the books would be.
"Here," she said bluntly, pointing at a particular shelf. I could see labels on the boxes stating the supplies that they held. The organisation highly satisfied me.
I nodded carelessly and Billie turned to walk away, but quickly turned back around, "You didn't even want art shit did you?"
"Not really," my tone was blunt, matching hers.
She pressed her lips together, "thought so."
I nodded again, not really knowing what else to say.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, so quiet I could barely hear her.
