2 the wild animal

The morning sun gleams as a light from the ceiling without a slow rise to its pulsating glow. The start of a new day fails to send a single breeze to brush against the cheeks of the dazed as they begin their early routines. The dawn of ivory skies bounces off bleached walls and skips across pale tiles until it fills every room with its demand for awakening. As the caged animals scratch their doors eager to be released from their captivity, the lingering glows of routine are far from beautiful. In the Daecon Medical Center for people of all ages too far gone from the light to see, mornings like these aren't abnormal.

As a normal morning stirs the many predators of the mental into their endless routines for a better life, this sunrise is the first to shine over one patient in particular. Hiding within an isolated room, her eyes fixate on a window on the other side of a room that presents a world far from her reach. She sits with her knees up to her chest and her arms draped over them, tugging on her light blue scrubs to keep herself hidden from the new shine in the room. She bounces her foot anxiously over the edge of her chair, hiding her face under strands of silver that shine in her hair. She's not afraid of the private meeting she has with her therapist today, but she's never been good with any verbal interaction. The spotlight of the artificial sun above is being held to her body, and she knows she's in for a long morning when she's already nervous fifteen minutes in.

A woman in a white uniform sits on the other side of a pale table, and the patient looks to her nervously. The thin, round lenses to her glasses rise over ocean blue eyes as the patient glances at the woman with interest. She watches carefully as the therapist rests a binder gently over the table and opens it completely, swiping a few pages to the left swiftly.

"Good morning, Vaelyn," the woman addresses the patient gently. The one called to attention slows her bounces and tightens the grasp her arms have around her knees.

"Miss Quinton," Vaelyn speaks softly, a light scratch to her waking voice. She clears her throat after noticing she still hasn't hidden her impatience well enough.

"How have you been this week? I've missed you," the therapist asks, finding the page she was looking for and gently sitting her palms on her lap. Vaelyn shrugs.

"Nothin' new, someone ate a football yesterday and we're thinking the new guy has some anger issues," she answers casually, pushing her glasses up over her small nose.

"Yes, I heard about that, the staff has been complaining all night about the situation," the woman chuckles softly, "I trust you've been staying on top of your medication?"

"You're asking as if I don't," Vaelyn bites. The woman glances up at the patient, clicking her teeth, and nodding in agreement.

"Always have to ask. We can't have those hallucinations coming back," she says, flipping through the next page of her binder after marking a few boxes in a checklist.

"How do you ever know you're going to get the right answer? Some people here got some big mouths to hide some cute little pills. I would know best, and I never give 'em an invitation," Vaelyn says, looking around the room as if there were more than the color white to feed her visual appetite.

"We always find out, so don't try anything you haven't already been caught for," Quinton answers, clicking her pen. Vaelyn puts her chin on her knee, awaiting the next topic calmly. The woman looks at her gently, weaving her fingers together with the pen in between. "Three more days, and you'll be discharged. How does it feel?"

Vaelyn shakes her head in disbelief. "I can't remember a life away from these walls."

"It wasn't a safe one, dear, just remember that. It's three years ago today that your accident happened," the woman tells her.

Vaelyn blinks heavily. "You think after the second time that maybe it wasn't an accident?"

The woman gazes deeply into Vaelyn's eyes, trying to find a change in her attitude that should have been different after three years of mental care. "Regardless of whether it was, it failed. You're still here, and your attempts of ending your life were thankfully unrewarded. You should be happy that you've gotten to breathe into another day like this! Do you even know what today is?"

Vaelyn lowers her head under her knees again. She shakes her head softly, knowing the answer exactly.

"It's your birthday, hon. It's your eighteenth birthday," the therapist smiles sweetly. "How are you not excited about this?"

"It doesn't matter," Vaelyn muffles through her legs. The woman leans further into the table, trying to peek through the slit in her legs.

"You can't tell me you're still the same person you were three years ago, Vae. You're an adult now, and I'm hoping you'll see a new future for your life as you finally step out on your own again. You can finally be the person you've always wanted to be," the woman tries to suggest. Vaelyn looks up again, knowing the therapist isn't just speaking to her mandatorily, and shakes her head again.

"I'm not the same person," her gentle voice a little clearer now, "I'll make you proud."

Quinton smiles. "You won't need to make me proud. You have the world to conquer."

Vaelyn smiles gently, pressing her face into her arms, her glasses slowly pushed up again. Quinton closes her binder with a thud, making her patient jump, and reaches next to her chair to pick up an unexpected bag with sparkled dots plastered over the front. With care, she sits the paper bag onto the table and gently opens it.

"You got me a gift?" Vaelyn speaks up, smiling a little bigger in excitement. Quinton smiles back, pulling the thin paper sheets from the bag, and shakes out a small plush bear from the bottom. Its small, round eyes and blonde fur spread the warmth of comfort into anyone that meets its gaze. Quinton looks into the eyes of the plush and sits it upright on the table, putting the colored sheets back into the bag. Covering up the therapist's forearm in its posture, the bear sluggishly awaits Vaelyn to give it a reaction.

"No," Quinton smiles, "Your parents did."

Vaelyn's smile dies immediately, the sun burning into a cold rock as her frown is as strong as a crescent in the night sky. Her jaw drops carefully, her lips parted in surprise and shock.

"What?" Vaelyn stares at the gift in disbelief. Quinton lowers her smile, careful not to distress Vaelyn, and holds the bear to keep the focus of her patient on the plush and its bright, constant smile.

"I know you aren't very fond of your mother and father, but they meant only good in sending you this gift. I know the majority of these years in these walls have been focused on your issues with them, but I assure you, something must have changed when you were no longer present in their lives," Quinton assures her.

Vaelyn growls. "Their lives got better. I've heard it myself, and I don't care if they were joking. They've always got some bullshit to say about me."

Quinton raises her brows. "Watch the language, Vae."

Vaelyn takes a deep breath and calms herself before saying another word, knowing a simple mistake could get her another week in this nightmare of a home. She's not sure if this was worse than where she was before, however, and that's why she's afraid of leaving. A deep, lurking passion to stay has always been crawling deep within her chest, and it has never backed down when there were signs of an escape. She doesn't know how to feel about the freedom she's about to gain all from walking beyond doors of glass.