I Will Help You Find Sanity (Fran Bow and Markiplier Fanfic)

Chapter 2 No More Hesitation

Dr. Deern walked hastily to his office. He held up his wrist, the white sleeve of his lab coat drooping down, and frowned. That damn Grace, he thought to himself bitterly, when is she going to ever know that no means 'no'?
Dr. Deern was fed up with Grace, Fran's aunt, always coming to Oswald asylum, pleading and trying to coax him to let her take Fran home. Even if he did feel sympathy for the twisted child, as nurse Beatrice called her, he couldn't break the rules. He had already given Fran one of the biggest rooms upstairs and even prescribed her with Duotine. If he were to let her go home without proper social, mental, and physical stability, he would bend too far and break.

Dr. Deern speed-walked past an elevator. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the lit up numbers on top of the elevator's border were decreasing. That sent chills down his spine. Someone was going to the lower region of the asylum. That's where they kept the children who's mentality was way over the top and, somewhat, dangerous. One of Dr. Deern's patients were down there. She was diagnosed with severe bipolar disorder. One minute she was perfectly calm when he talked to her. The next minute she was trying to kill him with one of his pens she had grabbed from his lab coat pocket. Dr. Deern thought that she wouldn't be one of the lucky ones. The ones that have the most improving results and can be brought up to the main floor to socialize with other children. Maybe she will, who knows. But only time can give that answer.

~~~everything happens in time~~~

Fran walked down the hallway. She had to clear her mind. Unstable. What did they think she was? Some type of machine? Fran knew for a fact she wasn't crazy, and she had proof. But was it really worth the effort in saying that she saw Remor when she hadn't taken her medicine? What if Dr. Deern sent her to stay in the lower floors? Fran shook her head, trying to make the questions stop coming to mind. She entered one of her friend's room which was just across the hall from her's. Adelaida Fugents. Fran liked to hang out with her. She was very fun, but she did try to...touch certain places of Fran on occasions. She never fully understood why, though. Well, to tell you the truth, Adelaida was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder.

Adelaida, very sad to say, was a victim of sexual abuse. The doctors never found out who the person was. They couldn't ask her. If they did, she'd get a severe panic attack that would cause her to go unconscious. So, Dr. Deern started to do art therapy with her. It was the only way he could calm Adelaida down. The thing he worried about most was that she always wanted to use the red crayon. But, of course, Fran would never suspect anything strange about that.

Fran walked into the room. Adelaida was sitting on the floor, drawing on one of the yellow tiles on the ground. Drawings in red crayon decorated the walls along with a poster that said 'art can make you happy. Art can help you forget.' Adelaida looked up. When she saw Fran, she grinned widely. "Hi, Fran! You want to color with me?" Fran perked up. She sat across from Adelaida and examined her drawing. It was a stick figure girl and a stick figure guy drawing pictures. Fran knew immediately it was Dr. Deern and Adelaida.

"How are you, Fran?" She asked, brushing her brown bangs out of her eyes. There were paint stains on her blue pajamas. Fran looked down and tapped on a yellow tile. "Not so good," Fran replied glumly, "I heard Dr. Deern talking to my aunt Grace. He said that I wasn't allowed to go home with her because I'm not...mentally stable"

Adelaida immediately looked up from her drawing. "I heard them say that about me once, too. I don't know whether to believe it or not, though. But I don't think you're crazy, Fran."

"Thanks, Adelaida." Fran sighed and then gazed at the clock. It was turning five o'clock. She knew it was now or never. "Adelaida? Do you ever see...shadow people?"

Adelaida shook her head. "I've heard some kids telling me about shadow people, but I never see them. I'm too distracted in my coloring."

"Well, I've seen them. I've also seen someone named Remor who told me I shouldn't leave. But I have to! I have to get out of here! I need to find my kitty, Mr. Midnight and go home to my aunt Grace!"

Adelaida thought long and hard about Fran's wishes. She totally ignored the whole Remor thing. She scribbled on some hair to her stick fingers quickly, then winced. Fran knew something was wrong. "Are you alright?" Fran asked. Adelaida shook her head slightly, put down the crayon, and examined her wrists. "The red milk won't stop! Every time I do this my wrists won't stop painting!" She showed Fran her wrists. Deep cuts ran along them. Blood ran down her the palms of her hands. Fran gasped. "You're bleeding! Don't worry, I'll go get you some bandages!" Fran got up and zoomed out of the room before Adelaida could say anything.

~~~everything happens in time~~~

Dr. Deern finally made it into his office. It wouldn't have taken him so long if hadn't of been stopped by nurses every four minutes. Her rolled his eyes as he though of what they said: "Do you know if the 'Make A Wish' foundation people are gone yet?" "Is there any chance I can go home early?" "You're cute. Why don't we stop to get a drink after work?" He opened up his office door and shut it. Making sure to firmly lock it before walking to his desk. He didn't want any umwelcomned guests entering. He wandered over to his desk and opened up a drawer. Placing his clipboard down, Dr. Deern searched through the files that were neatly placed in alphabetical order. He went straight to the B's and took out Fran's file. It displayed all of her information to her name from why she was diagnosed with psychosis.

With a pen, he scribbled out her previous medication and wrote in Duotine. Dr. Deern felt wrong by doing this. The medicine would be fine if it were for an elder, but it was for Fran, a ten year old girl. It contained way too much ektoplomatin, a type of ingredient that causes hallucinations to the consumer. The first time she took it Fran had passed out. What would happen if she continued taking these pills? Slip into a coma? Maybe she saw something and went unconscious from shock, Dr. Deern thought, she'll hopefully get used to it.

He placed the folder back into its rightful place and shut the drawer. Little did he know though that Fran was not hesitating to find a way out of the asylum. And that Mark was going to be an accomplice.