Fremont 2.0

"hey there sweetie, you ready to wake up yet? we'd love to see you at breakfast." you roll over in bed, glancing up at the woman standing there. her scrubs are colorful and she's got a clipboard in her hand. she looks at the other person and writes something down, then leaves. she's right, you should [[get out of bed->morningroutine1]]. then again, the last two days have been awful. it wouldn't hurt to [[keep sleeping->sleep1]]. (set: $likability to 1) (set: $depression to 0) (set: $hygeine to 0) (set: $friends to 0) (set: $roommate to 0) (set: $visitors to 0)

in the hallway, it's still pretty empty since it's so early. a few more of the ladies in scrubs walk up and down the halls. one of the older guys walks by and says good morning, but you're only able to muster up a mumbled greeting. you walk towards the tv room, your adhesive socks making a //plop// with each step. a small line is forming by the double doors, with a different woman in scrubs standing there counting. "hey sweetie, you up for breakfast today?" walk down to the cafeteria and eat bagged scrambled eggs and wilted french toast? it's probably a good idea, i should [[go->breakfast1]]. sounds disgusting. [[tv room->tvroom1]] it is.

the bathroom seems like it's meant to be entirely white, but everything feels yellow. where a door should be, there's simply a long curtain hanging down to your ankles. inside there's a toilet, a rounded sink, and a shower -- again, with a curtain. your brain flashes back to those gross shared bathrooms you had in college, would this shower be like that? you look down at your socks, there isn't really much of a way to shower without being barefoot. [[shower anyways?->hygeine1]] screw that. [[just brush your teeth.->hygeine2]]

with each move you can feel your body groan. these beds are the fucking worst. you look over, your roommate still appears to be sleeping. the room itself is as bare as can be. two firm beds, two small shelves, two desks and two weird, plastic and rounded chairs. there's a window mounted on the wall, but it doesn't really show much of the outside world. regardless, the sun is too bright for this early in the morning. you get up and walk towards the door, stopping by the bathroom. is [[hygeine->morninghygeine1]] really all that important? you keep [[walking towards the hallway->walking1]]. (set: $likability to it + 1)

breakfast doesn't sound so appetizing, so you roll over and continue to sleep again. it's not until some time later that you find yourself awoken by the same woman standing there, clipboard in hand. "it's group time, you comin' to group?" given that you skipped breakfast, it might be a [[good idea->group1]]. but why do they keep [[pushing->nogroup1]] this whole group thing so much? (set: $likability to it -1)

you take a shower. it feels refreshing, but not as good as it could be. after a few minutes you hear a voice from the room, "hey sweetie, are you okay in there?" "yes, i'm fine." you sigh, turn the shower off and dry off. your stomach growls and you're suddenly hoping you haven't [[missed breakfast->walking1]] yet. (set: $hygeine to it + 1)

--fuck. your stupid toothbrush is in the locker. you have to ask for someone to get it for you. is that even [[worth->hygeine3]] it? [[no.->walking1]]

you line up by the door, behind a strange man in his late 40s. he's smiling wide, and looks very eager to get going. "who are we waiting for? are we waiting for Jim? should I go get him?" the lady counting by the door smiles at him, "it's okay honey, thank you. I don't think Jim will be joining us, we'll get going in a moment." she puts down the clipboard as a man comes up and nods at her. the double doors click open, "alright everyone single file please." immediately, everyone follows her into the hallway and squeezes into the elevator. a few floors down, and everyone is following after her like a bunch of kindergarteners with some invisible rope. the cafeteria is much smaller than you expected, nothing like it was in school. there's a few scattered tables and a small food line, it looks like they're only serving one kind of food. you continue to [[follow->breakfast1cont]] the others, unsure what is really going on at this point. (set: $likability to it +1)

you sit at one of the weird plastic chairs, staring blankly at the tv. it's one of those weird cop shows, you don't know which one though. it feels like hours go by. there's nothing to do here except watch tv and read one of the books on the shelf. you walk over and glance at the selection-- it seems to be a ton of romance novels for some reason. you return to your seat, returning to the silence. eventually, someone else who looks like they could be in college sits a few chairs away from you. this seems like a good chance as any to [[spark up a conversation->friend1]], but then again this place is insane-- [[you just want to go home.->silent1]] (set: $likability to it -1)

you peek your head into the hallway and catch the eyes of one of the women. "hey uh, can I grab my toothbrush and stuff?" "of course!" you follow her down the hall, back to the double doors. it seems awkward to wait there, people up and down the hall stare at you as if trying to brush your teeth is some kind of sin. she reaches to her waist a grabs one of a dozen keys, opens your designated locker, and hands you your things. "just remember to bring that back once you're done." she smiles. you nod and walk off. a few minutes later you find yourself back next to the locker, feeling the eyes on you. another nod of thanks, and you [[walk->walking1]] back down the hall. (set: $hygeine to it + 1)

the tv room looks so different when everyone is here, scattered around in the chairs waiting patiently. a 20-something year old comes in with a stack of paper and a tray of markers. she doesn't really say anything, she doesn't even tell everyone whats happening now, she just sort of sits down next to everyone. other people immediately grab the papers and start coloring frantically. another woman in scrubs stands there, muttering and writing names on clipboards. "good to see you're participating cody," she tells another kid. he glares at her. you grab a marker and a piece of paper and start coloring. it seems like the right thing to do. eventually, the nice lady collects all the markers and leaves. someone else comes in and mentions something about lunch. [[food->lunch1]], finally. you're just [[not hungry->nolunch1]]. (set: $likability to it + 1)

fuck that weird group stuff. it's so forced, it almost feels straight out of a movie. instead you find yourself wandering the halls, wondering what else you could possibly be doing with your time. once you reach the end of your hall, you realize there's nothing left. it's all just there, laid out in front of everyone. a weird tv room and a couple bedrooms. all the doors are open though, that's weird. [[what is there to do here?->bored1]] (set: $likability to it -1)

needless to say, bagged eggs were not that great. by the time you get back from breakfast, everyone appears to be awake now and shuffles off to their rooms. the lady who woke you up that morning is still shuffling about, and says hello to you. "they're having group soon in the tv room, you should join in." why does everyone want you to do stuff all the time? is there no [[down time->nogroup1]]? maybe they're right, [[group->group1]] might be a good idea. you might get to leave sooner.

what even is there to do in this fucking hell hole? it's just one long massive hallway of nothingness. you could go back to your room, you could watch tv, you could do anything. instead, you find yourself in bed. just laying there. nothing, doing nothing. there's no sun, there's only silence in the room. you look over, someone has closed the blinds now. the outside world has fucking disappeared. ... "will either of you be joining us for lunch?" clipboard lady came back, again. your roommate grunts, pulling the blanket up further on their body. their attendant shrugs. food. time to [[drag yourself->lunch1]] out of bed, or you could just sit here. [[not moving->nolunch1]] sounds fantastic. (set: $depression to it -1)

they seem really nice. you both exchange a few greetings, making jokes about the food and the weird //paper// pants. they were in a pretty similar situation as you-- the same kind of feelings, the same worried people, and the same police ride. the conversation only lasts a few minutes before hitting the floor. another lady with a clipboard comes in and smiles at the both of you. "group is starting any moment, will you two be joining in?" a quick glance at your new friend, and you can see they're sticking around for whatever sick torture //group// is. you might as well [[hang out with your new friend->group1]], maybe then you two can figure out how to get out of this place. on the other hand, it's already been a long ass morning. [[not being around people->nogroup1]] sounds a lot better. (set: $friends to it + 1)

the silence drags on, and nothing is there to fill the air except the occasional action scene on the television. a few minutes later, the silence is broken by another //nice// lady coming in with her clipboard. "hey everyone, group is starting in a few minutes! make sure to stick around so you can participate." what the hell is group? why are more people entering the room? part of you doesn't [[really want to get up->group1]], but the rest of you [[doesn't see much of a point in sticking around->nogroup1]] for whatever weird activity they're gonna make you do. (set: $likability to it -1)

lunch was awfully boring. you sat with people, but you didn't actually know any of them. it felt depressing, it felt forced, it just felt like a meal. once you ride back up the elevator, everyone scatters off to their spaces. the lady who walked you down and back up quickly tries to gather as many of them as she can, "group will be starting soon! in the tv room, make sure to be there." after a lunch like that, group really doesn't sound good. you just want to go lay in your room and escape people. [[a nap sounds really good right now.->room1]] [[alternatively, you could always go to group.->group12]]

you watch as the others slowly file out the doors, your stomach growling a little bit. the hunger is there, but the rest of you is just too unnerved by the cafeteria to go there. you're barely starting to get comfortable with this goddamn tv room, much less the cafeteria. instead, you shuffle into the tv room and sit on one of the stiff couches pushed against the wall. someone else is sitting there, diligently watching the tv. this time it's national treasure, that one old movie with nicholas cage. "have you seen this movie? I love this movie," he says, somewhat to no one in particular. is he talking to himself? or you? maybe making a [[little conversation->friend2]] would be nice. or, you could always [[head back to your room.->room1]] it's not like anyone is around. (set: $depression to it +1) (set: $likability to it -1)

"yeah, it's actually one of my favorite. nicholas cage is hilarious," you say to the other guy. immediately, he turns around, a giant grin on his face. he seems so happy to talk to you, he seems so happy. it's almost unsettling. why would he be here if he was so happy? it doesn't seem like the correct question. a few more scenes and some light conversation pass, and the room starts to buff up again with other people. "oh hey, is group starting? we can turn this movie off, it's okay. that's okay with you right?" your new friend looks to you. "oh yeah-yeah, that's fine." you nod, shifting in your seat slightly. [[group sounds nice enough->group2friend]], this guy seems to be talking it up quite a bit. a teeny part of you wonders what the point of group is, it's built up so much in the movies, it just seems so cliche. [[it's kinda stupid. ->room1]] (set: $friends to it +1)

yay, group. the tv room is pretty empty, with just a few stragglers here and there. the person leading group comes in, she looks like she could barely be a few years older than you. she's got a guitar in her hand, and a bunch of instruments on a crate. //you're kidding.// it begins by her passing instruments to everyone, and somehow you end up a triangle. others looks absurdly excited to play music, others look as unamused as you do. she then passes out booklets with songs and lyrics. others begin asking about songs, and she goes onto some big mumbo jumbo about how music is so important for the //healing process.// ... it feels like a movie. everyone is sitting around, banging their instruments and bursting ear drums, singing the one and only, one love by bob marley. its surreal. you want to go home. ... after group is finished, the group leader packs up and starts to say goodbye. "it also looks like it's visiting hours, so I hope you all have a good night." she smiles, and leaves. oh god, visiting hours. is anyone [[coming for you?->visitors1]] or are you just gonna sit here and watch everyone see family and friends, [[all by yourself?->novisitors1]] do they even know you're here? (set: $likability to it +1)

as you're walking into your room, there's the same lady who woke you up standing there. she briefly smiles at you, before leaving the room. you consider closing the door for a moment, but realize it's probably pointless. they'll just open it again. you crawl into bed, pulling the thin blanket over your body. across the room your roommate is still in bed and hasn't moved. there's one of the ladies just sitting on the floor next to her, quietly talking. it's weird, she's always in here with your roommate, even late at night. they're talking about something strange, some murders that happened a few years ago. "...yeah, this kid was only fifteen. he completely butchered the girl, it was just horrible." that's sound interesting, maybe it'd be good to make do with your roommate. [[make a little conversation->roommate1]], then things wouldn't be so awkward. but murder? weird topic when you're [[trying to nap.->room1cont]]

you roll over in bed, uncertain what to say to even inject yourself into this bizarre conversation. your roommate and their attendant seems so invested in their conversation. somehow, the attendant peaks over your roommate and peers over at you. "are you alright? you know you can talk to me too, if you need to." //what does that even mean?// "I'm okay, thank you though." "do you like dogs?" somehow, you get roped into a long conversation about corgis, and more specifically your roommates corgi. they show you pictures of corgis from the internet, since they can't really get any pictures of their own corgi. you find yourself smiling a little, just a teeny bit, after talking to them. things still feel strange, but you shrug it off. the clipboard lady comes back in, and mentions something about visiting hours. your roommate rolls over, as if saying no. do you have any [[visitors?->visitors1]] or does anyone even [[know->novisitors1]] you're in here? (set: $roommate to it +1)

you welcome to attempt at silence. your roommate keeps talking, going on about that morbid crap. but you're trying to sleep, trying to get just a few moments. the clipboard chick comes back in, glancing at the both of you and then walks out. god she's so fucking annoying, how often does she have to walk through here? the nap never comes. instead you just lay there, staring at the ceiling. watching her come in and out every so often. listening to your roommate blab and blab. it makes you exhausted. after the fifth time she walks through, she finally speaks up. "it's visiting hours, if you're expecting someone you two should head over so you can greet them." she smiles, and leaves. are they coming? is it [[worth checking?->visitors1]] then again, this have to [[know you're in here->novisitors1]] first to find you. (set: $depression to it +1)

you're watching people walk down the hallway, smiles and speed-walking towards the double doors. uncertain, you walk along with them. is anyone coming? "hey honey, you've got some visitors." there's a twist in your stomach, something somewhat like excitement. anticipation. who is it? could it be [[your parents?->visitors1parents]] your [[best friend?->visitors1bff]] well, not the ones who put you in here. (set: $depression to it -1)

you peak your head into the hallway, watching as people shuffle down the hallway towards the double doors. parents and children and friends and significant others come in by ones and twos, there's smiles and awkward hugs and uncomfortable small talk. small talk that you don't get. you called them, you told them you were gonna be here, you told them what happened-- it's not like they could have misunderstood you were so numb when you told them. so why aren't they here? ... after a while of watching and feeling awful, you sigh. this isn't worth it. instead, you turn away and head back to your room to [[take a nap.->nodinner1sad]] the same question rings in your brain. when do you get to go home? (set: $depression to it +1)

//ohfuckohfuckohfuckohgodohdeargod.// you didn't expect to cry when you saw your parents for the first time in, what? months? they look confused, concerned, and on high alert. you follow them into the tv room, sitting together in a plastic chair with the two of them. they ask dozens of question, immediately pulling into parental mode. how did it happen? who made the call? why did it happen? why didn't you tell them? they asked that question a number of times. at some point, your dad left briefly, mentioning something about talking to one of the receptionists. the entire visit goes by so quickly, and in a few topics it's ending. other people start leaving quietly, shuffling away through the double doors. your parents look sad, they don't want to go. you're still their baby-- they want nothing but to protect you from this isolated bubble. [[they leave.->visitorsend1]] (set: $visitors to 5)

something is in your throat when you see her standing there. rolled up jeans, same frizzy hair, minus the grin. she doesn't look happy to see you. she lays her eyes on you for a moment, and instantly grins. your stomach lurches. it hurts to see her in here, in this white, suction sock home. it didn't seem right. she hugs you. she looks sad, uncomfortable. she doesn't know what to say to you. instead, she asks what happened. in a long convoluted way you have to explain the feelings, the texts, the police ride-- the whole nine yards. she tries to feel every emotion with you, but you're so numb at this point that she can't pick up on anything. by the time you're done explaining, she doesn't have much else to say. rather, she just starts telling you about life. you're practically in a bubble. "I wish I could show you some insta memes or something, but they told me I couldn't bring my phone," she tells you. ... before she leaves she hugs you, and she tells you she loves you. you say the same. everything [[returns->visitorsend1]] as it was, an isolated bubble. (set: $visitors to 10)

you watch as all the guests file out, your heart sinking through your chest as visiting hours come to an end. the hallway falls silent, the energy basically plummets in a few minutes. just before everyone scatters, clipboard lady gives a long reminder of dinner coming up. part of you wants to [[ride the high->dinner1]], keep going with a smile on your face and play it up a little. the rest of you wants to [[take a break->nodinner1]], that took everything from you.

everyone lines up at the double doors, waiting for a brand new clipboard lady to escort all the kindergarteners down to the cafeteria. as you're walking out, everyone stands around impatiently waiting for the elevator to get around. you look back at the doors you just came through. back when you got brought up here in a stretcher you didn't get a good look. there's a small piece of paper taped to the door that says //Sequoia//. what the hell does that mean? ... dinner is nice. you're in an okay mood, so you grab a lemonade. things are okay, the clipboard lady smiled at you as you were walking back up to your room. "I'm glad you joined us today, you're doing well hon." you nod. it's weird. they release you all back into the hallway, and you end up back in the [[tv room->latenighttv1]]. (set: $likability to it + 1)

you're tired, exhausted. it's been a ridiculously long day. you look over at the tv room, there's only one other person there. you wonder if they're watching anything half-decent in there. will it look good to be [[in there->latenighttv1]]? will they get upset if you just [[turn in early->bed1]]? does this crap even matter? who's keeping track? (set: $likability to it -1)

once again, everyone's lined up by the double doors waiting patiently and impatiently. it's a weird routine, waiting for everyone who has clearance to go downstairs and pass through the elevator. there's this long hallway between the elevator and the cafeteria, and it's so pretty. the ceiling and the walls are mostly windows, letting in all this sunlight. there's a garden on the other side of the glass, flowers of blue and red blooming like they should be in June. the line stops. the cafeteria doors open, and you're back to that grey shuffled feeling. the light is gone. quietly, you move into the [[lunch line->lunch1cont]] and wait for your plate of slop. (set: $likability to it +1)

your head collapses on the pillow with a soft thump. it never felt this good to be in a bed, even though it was a stiff piece of plastic with a thin, dried out sheet. it's nothing like your bed, even those stupid dorm beds would be a thousand times better than this one. it takes ages, it feels like hours pass by. the clipboard lady comes in and out over and over, you toss and you turn. your roommate is still talking. why are they still fucking talking? this place is packed full of rooms and you ended up with the one weirdo who won't shut the fuck up? finally, [[sleep passes over you->sleep2]].

you sit and watch tv for a while. it's nothing exciting. some war movie is on, but it doesn't seem to be unsettling for anyone. what is considered a taboo topic in here? eventually, someone comes in and turns the tv off. they tell you it's lights out, and it's time to [[go to bed->bed1]]. or, at least, sit in your room alone.

your sitting in your bed, but you can't move. your arms and legs and chest are all completely restrained, you struggle-- but it won't budge. it's some industrial shit. in front of you, there's a road twisting and turning just past your feet. it weaves like a tangled cord, and your stomach hurdles with each one. a voice is next to you, "it's all voluntary-- don't worry, everything is voluntary." there's a police officer sitting there taking your pulse, smiling up at you. "don't you [[trust me->woken2]]? you open your mouth to speak but there's nothing coming out. you feel like your screaming to get the words out, you're begging to turn around to get away as far from here as possible-- but the officer can't hear you. [[nobody can->sleepcont2]].

day two. "morning hon," clipboard lady smiles at you and walks out. is it seriously morning? it feels like you just fell asleep, why is she already waking you up? you wish you could go back to sleep, but you know it's pointless. you drag yourself out of bed, taking a moment to sit on the thin blanket. it already feels like you've been in here for an eternity, how will it feel tomorrow? and the day after that? will there even be a day after that? you glance over at your roommate, they appear to already be awake. that attendant of theirs seems to be making some kind of list with them. how on earth those people are awake at fucking 8am, you have no idea. you roll your eyes and rise up, [[moving->morningroutine2]] towards the entrance the bathroom again.

the minute your eyes open, you hear your roommate talking. somehow, they've managed to drag you out of your slumber. with a massive groan you sit up and shoot a glare in that general direction. it's not like they can see it, they're facing the wall anyways. their attendant is the next voice you hear, "oh look you're awake. I just talking about group, maybe the two of you could head over there together?" your roommate instantly groans. "no, I don't want to go. I know I should, but I can't." confused, you just shrug. group would be a chance to [[get away->group21]] from your roommate, because in all honesty what else are you gonna do? you slept through breakfast, after all. if you [[don't go->nogroup2]], you'll just be wandering the hallways or listening to your roommate talk. (set: $likability to it -1)

you take a step into the shitty bathroom and look into the mirror. it seems like no matter what you do, shower or not, you still look dead. dark circles wrap underneath your eyes, your acne is getting worse and worse with each passing hour-- something which wouldn't be happening if you had your normal skincare routine. still, [[hygeine is important->morninghygeine2]], right? that's one of the things they're probably looking at. on the other hand, everyone in here smells anyways. you wouldn't be any different from them if you just [[skipped it all->walking2]]. (set: $likability to it + 1)

this place sucks. it's official. as you're walking down the hallway towards the tv room, clipboard lady is making her rounds and doubling back through the tv room. she catches your eye and smiles, "hey sweetie, I think the doctor is gonna be seeing you after lunch." a doctor? does that mean medication? immediately, that fucking terrifies you. there's countless news stories and movies about doctors abusing their medications and screwing with people-- are they gonna fuck with you? you're officially an adult, you have to advocate for yourself. //ohgdhnofuckicantspeak//. "are you coming to breakfast?" another one. they ask you the same fucking question for every meal. your cross your arms and wish nothing but to shrink inwards on yourself. [[the tv room->tvroom2]] sounds a lot better than this crap. regardless, your [[stomach still growls->breakfast2]] and longs for //something//.

you splash some water on your face, trying to do something similar to your normal routine-- and kind of hoping those circles will fuck off. they don't. looking at your teeth, they don't look so hot. there's definitely some crap stuck in there. then again, you never had decent teeth to begin with. would [[brushing your teeth->hygeine22]] do all that much? you shrug, and turn towards the shower. a shower would do a thousand times more than teeth. you'd have to ask for shampoo and stuff though, since it's not like you have any. still, the feeling of that water on your body sounds like it could potentially transport you to [[another world->hygeine21]]

you find yourself back at the reception desk, waiting patiently for the lady to hand you two small cups-- one with body soap, and one with shampoo. she smiles at you, and tells you to enjoy your shower. you nod, as if. you don't. it's nothing special. maybe if you close your eyes for long enough, you can feel like your at home. the dog is scratching at the door trying to see you, your sibling is laughing at something on the internet in the other room, your dad is baking your favorite blueberry tart. "are you okay in there?" clipboard lady snatches you back into reality, your eyes shooting open as the water turns cold. "yes. I'm fine." you're not. nothing is. you don't belong here. you want to go home. after you get dressed, you return to the [[hallway->walking2]] to investigate what happens here in the morning. (set: $depression to it +1) (set: $hygeine to it +1)

locker. it's all in your locker. that's something you seriously don't feel like doing. with a sigh, you poke your head into the hallway. there isn't really anyone around, maybe brushing your teeth isn't all that worth it, especially if you have to //talk// to one of them. the clipboard people. [[fuck it->walking2]], your teeth will live. you'll be out of here tomorrow anyways. (set: $depression to it +1)

hunched over, cold and tired, you join the growing line by the double doors. you're the only one your age who's up this early. everyone else looks like they're at least 40. you wonder how they ended up here-- have they been here a long time? are they the same as you? or worse? the double doors click open, and everyone starts to shuffle through. down the elevator and down a long hallway, you all enter the tiny cafeteria together. there's a bunch of random people there today, people who are presumably from other floors. one of them compliments your hair, you smile and nod. it feels forced, but part of you is scared to talk to them. this fear makes you feel guilty. they're struggling like just you, you're not supposed to be scared of them. that's stereotyping. your brain goes back to where you were before this, on the longest night of your life. struck by fear and stuck in one tiny room with two chairs. a nice old man walking up and down the hallway staring at you. a tattood man yelling and strutting around in his birthday suit. the young boy who kept calling you beautiful and kept scooting closer to you. you eat breakfast alone today. you feel and look small as you're [[walking back up to the hallway->returnbreakfast2]]. (set: $likability to it +1)

things are quiet in the tv room. it seems as if everyone has gone to breakfast this time. you settle into a chair in the corner, still exhausted as hell. on your normal hours you would never wake up this early. 11am is your normal wake up call, 1pm if you're feeling particularly down. 8am? 9am? this shit is stupid. a few people start coming into the room, sitting in both the couches and the plastic chairs. someone else sits on the same couch as you and looks out the window briefly, before decidedly closing the blinds. they move and close all the blinds. it looks like they share a somewhat similar sentiment as you. looking at the outside world is depressing, especially since you don't ever get to go out there. you're stuck in the hallway, the days looping on and on forever. hopefully not forever. you're going home soon. "hey everyone! group is gonna be starting soon, so be sure hang around." you watch eyes light up, faces are smiling. one guy looks so dopey with his smile, it reminds you of your dog. might as well [[stick around->group21]], it wouldn't hurt. after all, they're watching you. "fuck this," another dude your age gets up and leaves. screw it, there's no point. nobody's coming. might as well do this shit on your own terms, [[inside your room->nogroup2]]

shaking your head, you turn away from the idea of group. there's this singular plastic chair across from the pay phone (would it be called a pay phone if you don't have to pay?). it's weirdly placed, and because of it's large, rounded shape it's uncomfortably large for the hallway. this is where you sit momentarily, because the idea of going back to your room seems like too much. maybe if you sit here, but don't go to your room or group-- this will look good? does anything look good? are they even keeping track? they must be, with those stupid clipboards of theirs. how much do they write down? all this thinking is [[way too much->bored2]]. this place is much harder than it looks in the movies. (set: $likability to it -1)

you take a seat in one of the plastic chairs on the farthest corner, as far away from the group leader as possible. its some college intern, clearly, here to //do good for their community//. you're expectations of what this is going to be are filled in every aspect almost instantly. the group leader stands up there and he smiles at everyone. he passes out a piece of paper with several questions on it. he asks everyone to fill it out and then sits back. he gets paid to do this? the paper is basically a survey of your experience. how's the food? how's your roommate? wanna shout out any nurses? have you made any friends? how is group going? part of you wants to be brutally honest, tell them this place sucks. it's like a fucking prison, with visiting hours and drugs added on. instead, you sound happy. you want to leave, as soon as possible, so you make sure your experience sounds as happy as can be. the group leader collects the papers and leaves shortly after that. some group that was, that was nothing like it was in the movies. clipboard lady comes back in and thanks everyone for participating and reminds everyone it's time for lunch. you're feeling relatively compliant, so rather than fighting it this time you [[follow->lunch2]] the few others who make their way to the double doors. (set: $likability to it +1)

when you return from breakfast, there's a paper on the door to the tv room that says //group//. people are already filing into the room to go and satisfy their daily requirement. or do they actually enjoy this? well, you better go and see [[what the fuss->group21]] is about. the only other thing you can do is sit around in the hallway or go to your room. sounds [[boring as hell->nogroup2]].

you sit there for a while, watching people walk back and forth. clipboard lady walks by at least three times. one of the guys who can't be but a few years older than you gets called up by clipboard lady. she tells him he's got a phone call on the pay phone, he picks it up pretty quickly. you're trying not to eavesdrop, but it's hard not to listen when he's three feet away from you. he seems to be talking to his mom or something. the way that he's talking makes your heart beat faster, and his voice starts rising. "-- no-- why the fuck did you tell them that? I'm fine, why would I fucking scare you? I just want to go home, I don't fucking belong here anymore you bitch--" his voice rose to a full scream, and the clipboard lady looks like she's about to do something. instead, his entire demeanor changes as he pulls the phone from his ear. it appears the other person has hung up. he slams the phone against the pay phone, his eyes connect with yours and there's nothing but pure rage. you haven't seen that kind of rage before. he turns away and starts punching the lockers, the wall, anything he can reach. "code blue, we have a code blue in Sequoia. all personal please, code blue," multiple people start coming around the hall, the tv room, behind the reception desk, all trying to grab him and start calming him down. you heart is beating as if you've just run a marathon. you can't bear to watch it anymore, the slam of his fists is pushing you further and further to endless fear-- you [[return to your room->nolunch2]] (set: $depression to it +1)

you're too scared to move. you're fixed permanently underneath the thin blanket. there's nothing but a propped open door between you and that maniac. is everyone in here like that? is everyone just waiting to snap? if something that small can set someone off, what's stopping someone from doing something like that to you? you want to go home. home is everything-- home doesn't scare you, home has a dog and love and people who care about you, or at least people who are really good at pretending to care about you. it's better than this constant fear. you trust nobody. this time, you don't move when they mention lunch. fists banging on metal is all you can hear, and so you [[stay in your room->room2]]. (set: $likability to it -1) (set: $depression to it +1)

a large pack of people line up by the double doors, a large amount of the hallway actually appears to be showing up this time. the lot of you walk down to the cafeteria together, and somehow you find yourself sitting at a table with most of the other barely adults. the conversation starts with how weird it is to be here-- you don't //feel// like an adult, yet you're here stuffed with a bunch of 40 year olds. there are a few others who go to the same school as you, and you all share a moment of silence and then nervous laughter for the finals you're supposed to be taking. somehow, lunch ended up being really nice. it felt good to relate to other people, and to understand that you're not the only one who feels like a prisoner. it was a really good change of scenery. however, as you're all returning from lunch, the group seems to scatter very quickly. everyone returns to not acknowledging each other unless necessary. nice. with a sigh, you begin to [[return->room2]] to your room. clipboard lady tries to catch your attention on the way, "there's another [[group session->group22]] happening soon. you should join them, sweetie." (set: $depression to it -1) (set: $likability to it +1)

your bed feels surprisingly comfortable. day two of being stuck in here, and you are so, so tired. you thought you were tired before you came in here? when you were studying and working and crying during every free moment you had-- or, feeling to shitty to have the motivation to do anything, even when you knew you should be doing something. nope. this place is worse. it sucks the life out of you. is that how we're supposed to get better? through simply complying and just going along with it? drink the lemonade, go to group, talk to your doctor, all that crap. fuck-- you're beginning to sound paranoid. you need to [[get out of your head->roommate2]]. maybe talking to your roommate will help, they're just laying in bed as usual. they smell, shit-- when was the last time they showered? no, you [[don't want->room2cont]] to talk to them unless it's absolutely necessary. it's most definitely not necessary right now. especially since they're talking to that stupid fucking attendant of theirs.

your roommate is speaking to their attendant very softly, as if they've been able to tune into your thoughts and annoyances lately. you roll over, trying to see if you can hear them. unsuccessful. a moment of silence passes over the room, and your roommate sits up. it's weird, you haven't seen them get up the entire time that you've been here, you haven't seen them move. what gives? "alright, we'll take a walk." you overhear the attendant speaking, as she's helping your roommate get up. "would you like to join us? we're taking a walk to the tv room, that lemonade sounds really good." you nod quietly, and get up with them. your roommate is a slow walker, but somehow they manage to make it all the way down the hall and sits down at one of the couches. you sit with them, even get yourself a glass of lemonade. a fantasy movie is playing on the tv, apparently your roommate's favorite. they launch into a long conversation about the hero and the villain, talking about their favorite plots. you smile, and listen. they seem so much more alive for some reason-- you can't figure out what it is. but it warms your heart. ... eventually, your roommate finishes their lemonade and hobbles back to the room. you smile and wave, a somewhat sincere smile. at least, one of the most sincere since you've been here. clipboard lady comes in grinning, her eyes fall onto you and she immediately scribbles something down. what it is, you'd only guess, is probably the smile on your face. "visiting hours are soon, is anyone visiting you today hon?" your smile fades, and the anxiety returns. suddenly, you're not so sure of that either. is anyone [[visiting->visitors2]] you today? or are they getting [[tired of seeing you->novisitors2]] in this stupid fishbowl? (set: $roommate to it +1) (set: $likability to it +1)

you turn away, trying to get your nose as far from your roommate as possible. maybe a little shut eye will help, maybe just a small nap will make you feel better. everything can be solved by avoiding it with some sleep, right? ... "hey hon, why are you sleeping? are you feeling down?" clipboard lady stands over you, some time later. you groan and look away from her, more annoyed now then ever that she interrupted your perfectly good slumber. "well-- it's almost visiting hours, make sure you're awake to see if [[anyone comes for you->visitors2]]." [[nobody's coming->novisitors2]]. there's no point. this whole place is fucking hopeless. you want to go home. (set: $likability to it -1)

you walk quietly down the hallway, uncertain if they're actually going to show up or not. the last thing you want is to look foolish and lonely when nobody actually shows up. will your best friend come today? you miss her so much, her smile, her laugh. your mind drifts to your other friends. you instantly regret it. you shouldn't be thinking about them-- they're the reason you're in here. they're the ones who only gave a shit about you at the last possible fucking moment. the one time you actually mattered to them, they ruined your fucking life. your eyes light up the minute you see your [[parents->visitorsparents2]] go through the doors. all previous thoughts get pushed away immediately, and you go over to greet them. (set: $depression to it -1)

you linger just outside of the room for a few minutes, watching people walk up and down the hallway. others show their family their rooms, others go to the tv room. you don't move. nobody comes. no best friend walking through the door, no parents showing up for you. it stings. after a few minutes, you watch the clipboard lady walk by-- she was fucking wrong. why did you get out of bed just to be embarrassed like this? you sulk back over to your bed and attempt to regain some of the sleep that you've lost over the past few days. you sleep through dinner. you can feel the clipboard chick judging you and writing down everything she sees. every time you continue to sleep (or, try to) and she sees it, she writes it down. eventually, she has the guts to stir you again. "your doctor would like to see you, go ahead and wait in one of the meeting rooms, okay?" (if: $likability <= 5) [is it not a choice? what if you don't want to see your doctor? your choices are slowly disappearing, it's all melding into what makes them happy, what gets you discharged, what keeps you here. you crawl out of bed, and [[go to the door->doctorno2]] to the meeting room she mentioned.] (if: $likability <= 5) [ is it not a choice? what if you don't want to see your doctor? your choices are slowly disappearing, and everything is funneling together into what makes them happy, what gets you discharged-- what keeps you here. you crawl out of bed, and [[go to the door->doctoryes2]] to the meeting room she mentioned. ] (set: $depression to it +1)

(if: $visitors is 10) [your parents are so unbelievably happy to see you, they hug you immediately. there are a few tears as they do, even though they just saw you yesterday. of course, it's not as many tears as it was yesterday. ] (if: $visitors is 5) [the minute you see your parents you burst into tears. you're quite a mess, given that you didn't get to see them at all yesterday. their embrace feels immediately ten times better, and you feel safe. ] they both look tired, they're clearly wearing dirty clothes. "we drove here from the hotel over the hill," you feel bad. "your dad isn't sleeping so well, he's really worried about you," you feel worse. "I picked some things up for you, I hope that's okay. it's not a lot, we didn't expect to be visiting up here this long. I called out of work," you feel horrible. they update you on life. they told your brother, your mom told her best friend. a part of you doesn't like that, but you can't tell her that. she's going through this just as much as you are. "who should we tell? do you want us keeping this to the family?" //too late//. "it's fine, just don't tell anyone else, I guess." you don't want to inconvienence them anymore. "can you email my professors?" that seems easy enough, after all they care way too much about your grades. they'll want to do this. "of course. is there anything else?" you shake your head. the conversation is about to continue before your dad cuts in, "have you seen a doctor yet?" "no, dad, not yet." he's angry. he walks off, probably to go ask about why you haven't started any medication yet. almost as if on cue, clipboard lady pokes her head into the tv room where you're both sitting. "hey sweetie, the doctor is here to see you. over in [[the meeting room->doctor2]], where you did your intake."

saying goodbye to your parents is difficult, they can't seem to be here with you all the time. but you don't want them anywhere else. the way they stood up for you and advocated for you-- you can't do this alone. everyone here terrifies you and sets off a thousand warning bells inside you. "don't worry, you'll get to go home soon. we'll go home soon." your mom smiles and hugs you tight, before walking through the double doors. you're sad again. ... "dinner's comin up, you going?" the fucking clipboard chick is back, with more invitations to food than ever. [[sure thing->dinner2]], going downstairs to sit by yourself or with a bunch of people as crazy as you are and eat meatloaf or some crap like that sounds amazing. [[immediate pass->nodinner22]].

significantly less people line up for dinner tonight, most people's visitors are still around to see them. you and a few others shuffle through the double doors and wait in the room before the elevators. you glance around, and catch a glimpse of a pair of doors across from your own. there's a small piece of paper taped to it that says //Redwood//. the doors open just briefly, and inside you see other people with clipboards and other people like you walking around. most of them are in green shirts and green pants. it's then that you notice the people from your doors are primarily in blue shirts and blue pants-- ones that were provided. you are still in the same pair of jeans you've had for the past two days, given that you had nothing but your phone and keys when they picked you up. together, you all walk down to dinner through the long hallway and into the cafeteria. it doesn't feel joyful and the food isn't delicious. you're too busy thinking about the longest car ride of your life, the longest twenty four hours stuck in one tiny room with eyes upon eyes watching you. you eat alone. and you return to your double doors alone, wishing you could be [[anywhere other->latenighttv2]] than here. (set: $depression to it +1) (set: $likability to it +1)

you're not feeling well. something feels weird. the receptionist calls you over and tells you it's time for medication. you feel like you can't say no, she tells you that you can-- but that would look bad. you look down at the small paper cup with two little pills in there. what's going on anymore? you swallow the pills. she asks if you've eaten dinner and you tell her no, she nods. "you might feel a little drowsy then." ... a little drowsy? what a fucking lie. atlas must live in your eyes at this point, he's fighting so hard to keep your eyelids up with each passing moment. you can't take it anymore, it's too difficult to resist. he's tired. you stand up and [[stumble-walk->endbed2]] your way over to your room. (set: $likability to it -1) (set: $depression to it +1)

your roommate is talking, so loudly this time. but you can't seem to care, your body can't stand for it-- the instant your head hits the pillow, you're [[out cold->sleep3]].

you're laying in darkness, your eyes are definitely open-- right? you just can't see anything. you wiggle your hands in front of you, but there's nothing there. it's not adding up. there's a distant banging noise-- the noise of a fist on a locker and someone screaming. it's hard to make out what the screaming is, it's all just noise. but its still getting louder. the banging is getting louder and louder. immediately, you want to find a way out but you can't even tell where they're coming from, you can't even tell where you are. the screaming and the banging comes from all around you, getting louder and louder and closer and //closer//. //NIFITUNFITNIFUTNIFNITUNFUNITUNITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFIT UNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFIT UNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFIT UNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFIT UNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFIT UNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFITUNFIT// the banging takes over both your ears, and your head is [[ringing->final1]]. everything hurts, like they're banging you and your arms and your legs. everything is screaming.

when you return from dinner, the receptionist calls your attention quickly. she tells you it's time to take your medication. you nod. medication will be make things better, it's okay-- you need this. you take the tiny paper cup (the one from the movies) and look down at the two little pills inside. one of them is white and the other looks pink. you swallow them both. the receptionist asks to see your cup and your tongue. you open your mouth, after a moment she smiles and writes something down. "have you eaten dinner today?" you nod. "alright, well you might feel a little drowsy from the klonopin." she smiles and calls to the next person for medication. you drag yourself over to the tv room and sit on one of the couches. for a few minutes you manage to keep your eyes on the tv screen, but you can feel your eyelids are fighting to close on you. it's almost like you took a fuck ton of melatonin. maybe this will be good, maybe this medication will help you sleep. you finally give in, and slink off to your room for a [[good night's sleep->bed2]].

your parents follow you into the small room. "when she said intake room, was this where you first went when you came here?" you nod silently. your brain is so focused on what you felt when you first came to this room, you can barely focus on your mom. she hugs you, she can tell. the doctor knocks on the door and opens it, smiling as he comes in. he looks strange. a short man in glasses and a lab coat, with his name neatly printed above the pocket. "hey there, I see we've got your parents here today." ... your parents ask dozens of questions. it almost feels like with every word he says a new inquiry spills from their mouths. they ask about your discharge, they ask about the side effects of medication, they ask about the facility. you're glad they're here. without them, you probably wouldn't have thought of any of these questions, much less had the ability or courage to ask any of them. he tells you he's prescribing klonopin for anxiety and insomnia, and zoloft for your depression. he explains that some medication has very immediate side effects that make everything worse, and so it's important to tell someone if you feel worse. your mom nods and squeezes your hand. the doctor smiles, "it seems you've been participating in a few things here and there. you've also got a strong support system. I will discuss discharging you within the next day or so." somehow, he's said the one thing that will make you so happy. it's hard to contain the smile growing on your cheeks as he shakes everyone's hands and leaves. your parents seem happy, they [[look exhausted->visitorsend2]]-- they want to go home too.

you turn in early, and sleep through dinner. somehow, you sleep through the [[rest of the night.->sleep2]] (set: $depression to it +1)

you're sitting in a plastic chair waiting for the doctor to walk in. probably ten minutes have passed since they told you to wait for him. now that you're here, you remember this room. this was the intake room where you first got put in when you arrived. you signed paperwork, they read you your rights and asked about insurance. they asked if you wanted to call anyone. they treated you like a criminal as they searched every inch of your body for weapons of any kind. it's not like you would have any on you, you got brought in on a fucking stretcher. they gave you a ham sandwich out of pity. you cried for a while. they asked why you were crying. the door to the room opens suddenly, and the doctor is standing there smiling. it's a tall man in glasses and a sweater, his sweater says //Berkely Residency//. "hey there, how are you doing?" ... he tries to explain what's happened. he doesn't do a very good job at it. nothing he says makes sense. he asks if you're still feeling down several times, you say yes-- but this place makes your anxiety so much worse, you'd rather be home. he prescribes you something called klonopin. he doesn't explain. he tells you he can't release you yet, you're too dangerous. you start to tear up, but you tell yourself you can't fucking cry in front of the doctor. that would look bad. then he'll never release you. he prescribes you something else, something called zoloft. he doesn't explain. he thanks you for your time, gets up, and leaves. you're left wondering what the fuck [[just happened->nodinner2]].

you roll over in bed, and your arm slides out and hangs off the bed. a jolt of pain shoots through your arm as it hits the sit, your eyes open. your bed is four feet off the ground-- you're in your dorm. everything is fine. you sit up in bed, almost smiling. something isn't quite right. all your stuff is in boxes all over the place, as if you were interrupted right before leaving. there's a banging on your door-- but not just one, countless. fists and fists bang on the door and scream at you to get out. //you don't belong here you don't belong here yOU'RE NOT FIT YOU'RE NOT FIT YOU'RENOTFITYOURENOTFITYOURENOTFITYOURENOTFIT// they're screaming at you, louder than anything you've ever heard. you try to put your hands over your ears but they clang against the thin metal handcuffs, forced behind your back. //YOU'RE NOT [[FIT->endsleep3]]//.

you wake up when the clipboard lady rolls in, being sure to ask you about breakfast. fucking breakfast-- what's the point? what's the point of anything anymore? nobody's coming for you. you'll never [[escape->end1]].

your day is the same. the same as it will always be. stuck strolling through the hallways, same old group, same old meals, same empty visiting hours. nobody wants to visit you anymore. it's sad to have to see you in here, and you know it. you finally caved and asked for some of those stupid paper pants that everyone else is wearing, the blue ones. you asked for a shirt too, you couldn't bear to wear the same clothes anymore. blue paper pants and an oversized solid blue shirt. you blend right in with everyone. after all, you're all just a little off in order to end up in [[here->end2]].

the day slips on. your doctor doesn't visit you. you take your medication. you get no visitors. your roommate continues to talk about the same depressing, morbid shit. they try to talk to you, but you find it less and less reasonable. there's no point in participating, nothing will come of this. you're sitting in a plastic chair in the hallway that night, staring numbly at the pay phone on the wall across from you. the receptionist calls to you. "I need you to sign this real quick," she holds up a form. you're trying to look over the paper, you're trying to understand-- "oh don't worry, it's just the same stuff your doctor went over with you. your plan, your medication--" you see the plan options, the reasons for stay. //Originally placed on 5150 on June 8th, 2018. Recommended for 5250 for further observation. Active until June 24th, 2018.// you really are [[never->end3]] getting out of here.

//the end.// the mental health system is extremely troubled and difficult. those without anyone to defend them have no voice. if you have no family, no friends, you are left to the hands of the state. in patient facilities are considered safe for patients, regardless of how triggering they could potentially be. staff put on a smile, but it doesn't feel like they care. doctors visit, but sometimes they don't. sometimes they don't truly look into a situation, they're simply looking to keep you as long as possible to make as much money as possible. it's scary to be the one in there. in this ending, you did not leave after the 72 hours were up. instead, the doctors placed you on a 5250 because your likability (aka participation, attitude, etc) throughout your stay was too low. this means they have the right to keep you for an extra two weeks, fourteen days. this is extremely taxing emotionally, and can take a huge toll on one's academic or work life. you might be saying-- but they need help, this is supposed to help them. now, those outcomes are okay //if// they are actually helping you. if you are not getting the sufficient help you need or if this environment you have been forced into is not for you, then it's not good. they're charging you thousands of dollars for making your mental illness worse. it's not right. additionally, everything you do has an impact. everything you do determines your discharge. participation is the number one thing, compliance is all they want. in the end your likability by staff members was (if: $likability >= 3)[high](else:)[low]. in the end your depression was (if: $depression >=3)[better](else:)[worse]. likability by staff = $likability overall depression = $depression hygeine = $hygeine relationship with roommate = $roommate friendships = $friends thank you.

the clipboard lady calls you from your sleep. "get packed, it's almost time to go sweetie." you're beaming, you're so excited. ever since you got rolled into this place you've wanted nothing but to be back in your own bed with your dog. this place has done nothing but scare you endlessly. it was all a blur. you skip breakfast, you're too busy signing papers. they call your parents, they gather your things. (if: $roommate >= 1) [ your roommate looks over at you, watching you pack everything up. "you're getting out of here? you're lucky. it was nice meeting you." you smile and nod, "make sure to pet a dog for me or something." "oh trust me, I will." you tell them, before waving goodbye. ] (if: $friends >= 1) [as you're walking down the hall a few people catch a glimpse of the paper bag in your hand. some wave, some say goodbye, some tell you good luck. you say the same to them, even if you only shared a few small words-- you're just greatful to be getting out. ] the double doors swing wide open, and you step out into the hallway-- this time without clipboard lady, without an entourage of blue shirts and blue pants, without the stretcher parading you around. you ride the elevator down to freedom, but there's more paperwork on the ground floor. they give you your phone, your keys, everything you came in with. you can almost taste the [[sweet outside air->final2]].

the outside world appears to be the same, nothing changed too much while you were gone. as you're walking away you almost feel like they're going to take it back-- at any point the clipboard bitch will come back outside and say it was a mistake, grab you and throw you back in there. but she doesn't. you climb into your parents car and look up at the tall building you were locked in. //fremont hospital. dedicated to hope, healing, and recovery//. you scoff and the car drives away. you're [[free->final3]].

//the end.// the mental health system is extremely troubled and difficult. those without anyone to defend them have no voice. if you have no family, no friends, you are left to the hands of the state. in patient facilities are considered safe for patients, regardless of how triggering they could potentially be. staff put on a smile, but it doesn't feel like they care. doctors visit, but sometimes they don't. sometimes they don't truly look into a situation, they're simply looking to keep you as long as possible to make as much money as possible. it's scary to be the one in there. in this ending, you were able to leave after the 72 hours in the hospital had run out. this was because you had parents there for you, people there to advocate and ask questions and fight for you. when you're in this place it's hard to see if fighting is even worth it-- or if you're even allowed to fight. others aren't so lucky. additionally, everything you do has an impact. everything you do determines your discharge. participation is the number one thing, compliance is all they want. in the end your likability by staff members was (if: $likability >= 3)[high](else:)[low]. in the end your depression was (if: $depression >=3)[better](else:)[worse]. likability by staff = $likability overall depression = $depression hygeine = $hygeine relationship with roommate = $roommate friendships = $friends thank you.

you're not feeling well. something feels weird. the receptionist calls you over and tells you it's time for medication. you feel like you can't say no, she tells you that you can-- but that would look bad. you look down at the small paper cup with two little pills in there. what's going on anymore? you swallow the pills. she asks if you've eaten dinner and you tell her no, she nods. "you might feel a little drowsy then." ... a little drowsy? what a fucking lie. atlas must live in your eyes at this point, he's fighting so hard to keep your eyelids up with each passing moment. you can't take it anymore, it's too difficult to resist. he's tired. you stand up and [[stumble-walk->bed2]] your way over to your room. (set: $likability to it -1) (set: $depression to it +1)

fremont. by katie moses [[next.->beginning]]

sitting there in silence waiting for the doctor to come feels like an eternity. time passes so slowly, and all you can see is the small square window of life as it goes in the hallway. clipboard lady walks by, then nothing. you look around and examine the room as a whole. it feels bare. there's a small desk and a few plastic chairs on either side. you're sitting facing the door, because quite frankly you don't want to put your back to that door. the last time you were in here you were crying and they were making you sign papers and trying to explain what the fuck was going on. they couldn't quite understand why you were crying, even when they had to strip search you. ... the doctor finally rolls in, closing the door behind him. his sweater says //Berkely Residency//. he smiles at you. "hey there, how are you doing?" you mumble some kind of response, uncertain of the answer to that. he's kind of weird, he doesn't seem like he wants to be there. he spends most of the meeting avoiding eye contact, and filling out a stack of papers. he rarely stops to ask you a question about how you're doing. he asks if you've gone to group, if you go to meals. "yeah, a few of them. that seems to please him. eventually, he decides to prescribe you with a specific medication. it goes by the name klonopin, and it's specifically for anxiety. he describes it as a light sedative, something to make getting through the days a little easier. he tells you that you can't drive while on it. as if you'd be driving in here? "I've decided to release you at the 72-hour mark, based on how you're doing in here. do you have anyone to pick you up? but I would like you to start seeing a psychiatrist or a therapist long-term, I think it would help prevent this from happening again." wait-- that's it. is this the [[end?->yes1]]

hi. this game contains potentially triggering topics such as depression and anxiety. if you have any difficulty with these please be careful. this game is very important to me, and so I ask that you not judge until you have played it in it's entirety. thank you for your time. [[begin->woken]].

strategies to deal w stress you enter the room and sit in the corner, pulling your feet up onto the chair and resting your chin on your knees. this whole //group process// thing doesn't really seem like a big help, especially since it's so cringe-worthy. the group leader comes into the tv room, glancing around and smiling at everyone. she's probably in her late twenties, with blonde curls bounding on her shoulders. "hey there y'all! we're gonna be talking about stress managment today." //oh no, actual group therapy.// almost immediately, she starts going around one by one and asking everyone to share how they relieve stress and anxiety. there's the usual of going on a walk, taking a run, or spending time with friends. it all seems pretty generic, and after each take she seems to 'recap' on what they said by just... rephrasing it. the spotlight comes around to you, and she smiles at you. "I just listen to music, really loudly. that way I can't hear or think." you shrug, not really wanting to share your deepest darkest secrets with a room full of psychos. including yourself. by the time the group separates, you sure as hell don't feel any better. if anything it created a stronger longing //for// your de-stress methods. there's absolutely no music in this stupid hellhole, and of course there's no headphones given that someone could try and strangle themselves with it. but you, you would give anything to hear your favorite song right now. instead, you settle for the low hum of the light in the [[tv room->tvroom3]], eventually planning on returning to your room. (set: $likability to +1) (set: $depression to -1)

the tv room is pretty quiet at this point, not a whole lot is going on. the majority of people filed out after group, off to go take a nap or something. you're curled up on one of the strange, tough couches trying to swallow the csi type show they have on. it's about some girl who got murdered and stuffed in a suitcase, super appealing and definitely something you felt like watching. someone closer to the tv was clearly at the edge of their seat with this weird shit, and there was no way you were gonna get to change the channel. this moment is right about when you glance up at the clock, somewhat forgetting how to keep track of time up until now. you notice that it's 4pm. 4pm is visiting hours, 4pm means you might get to see your best friend or your family. the clipboard lady pokes her head into the room, writing and talking at the same time, "visiting's comin' up, stick around if you're expecting someone." fuck, are you [[expecting anyone?->visitors2]] did your parents say they were coming at all? maybe your best friend? or does it seem like time to [[hit the hay?->novisitors2]]

//the end.// the mental health system is extremely troubled and difficult. those without anyone to defend them have no voice. if you have no family, no friends, you are left to the hands of the state. in patient facilities are considered safe for patients, regardless of how triggering they could potentially be. staff put on a smile, but it doesn't feel like they care. doctors visit, but sometimes they don't. sometimes they don't truly look into a situation, they're simply looking to keep you as long as possible to make as much money as possible. it's scary to be the one in there. in this ending, you did leave after the 72 hours were up. while you may not have had any friends or family to advocate for you, you managed to make it //seem// like you were doing well. it's a system that is both easy to manipulate and also difficult to please. if you look like you're doing okay, they'll release you and try to get you follow up care, but that doesn't always work. you might be saying-- but they need help, this is supposed to help them. now, those outcomes are okay //if// they are actually helping you. if you are not getting the sufficient help you need or if this environment you have been forced into is not for you, then it's not good. they're charging you thousands of dollars for making your mental illness worse. it's not right. additionally, everything you do has an impact. everything you do determines your discharge. participation is the number one thing, compliance is all they want. in the end your likability by staff members was (if: $likability >= 3)[high](else:)[low]. in the end your depression was (if: $depression >=3)[better](else:)[worse]. likability by staff = $likability overall depression = $depression hygeine = $hygeine relationship with roommate = $roommate friendships = $friends thank you.