Damned.

Zeke didn't like this place. The essence of the facility just screamed wrong. Everything from the too-white rooms to the barbed wire circling the so-called "hospital".

Adjusting to life was relatively easy—someone was always there to baby you through it, but the second you got difficult, off in shackles or numbed by drugs you went.

The room Zeke was occupying was on the second floor, room number 243. Everything was pure white. The sheets, curtains, floor, everything. A solitary window was placed in the middle of the room, seeming to divide the room in half. There were two beds—Zeke was told he'd be rooming with a man named Jakob—in each corner.

The nurses had his bag. They had told him it was because they needed to "check and make sure you don't have anything that could be used to harm someone or add to your instability". He thought it was a load of bull, but didn't say anything. For being a mental person, Zeke was an intelligent person. He figured the more he complied, the faster he'd be out to see Amy.

Zeke let out a deep sigh and sat on the edge of "his" bed. There was nothing special on the side he had picked; there weren't even photographs on the walls. The room was just a white mass of nothing.

A flood of exhaustion hit him like a ton of bricks. Zeke laid down, letting his legs dangle over the edge of his bed. Honestly, he didn't want to sleep. He didn't want his roommate to barge in and murder him or something. It is a mental hospital, after all.

Just as Zeke let his eyelids close, the door creaked open and he shot back up. A male nurse raised his eyebrow. "Are you okay?"

Zeke rubbed his eyes and shrugged. "As good as I can be in here, I guess." He answered.

"Good. I'll be taking you for a walk-through of the facility and explain how daily life is around here. Have you gotten your belongings and uniforms yet?"

"Uniforms?" Zeke asked.

The man nodded. "Yes, you are required to wear a uniform–" he paused and glanced down at a clipboard "–Ezekiel."

"Zeke," he corrected and sighed. "Ça craint."

"What was that?" The nurse questioned.

Zeke shook his head. "I'm from France," was all he said.

The nurse didn't press the matter any further. "Every morning you'll be woken up at precisely seven o'clock, ou à sept heure, Frenchie." Despite anger bubbling through his veins, Zeke managed to keep his mouth shut. "You'll go to the cafeteria and eat breakfast. We have a few options here. At 7:45 you'll go to the showers and clean up."

"Wait, like, you jumble everybody into one room with a few shower heads?" He asked, mortified.

"No, there are stalls for you. You also brush your teeth and take care of other hygiene needs there. After showers, you get some free time. You can choose to go outside in the yard or nap or whatever your heart desires. That time is also the time you get to spend with loved ones if they bother to visit. Once free time ends you go eat lunch and then to group therapy. It will be you and eight others with a doctor. Once that ends you go to your regular therapy session with your psychologist."

"Is it the same person for both sessions?" Zeke inquired.

"For you it will be. His name is Dr. De Clercq."

Zeke nodded. "This is the cafeteria." The two stopped and Zeke peered in. There was a sea of people clad in either white, light blue, dark blue or red shirts. All along the walls were nurses, ready to spring if someone went out of line.

Zeke and the nurse started walking again and the nurse started talking. "Generally after all the therapy sessions are done the lights go out. There are some special nights where you get to watch a movie or something fun, but not very often."

The rest of the walk was silent, with the exception of an occasional explanation of what a room was. There were a few vague explanations, but Zeke didn't think anything of it.

Once the duo returned to Zeke's new home, he felt a rush of relief. "Will I have to do all of this stuff today?" He asked.

The nurse shook his head. "No, not today. Today is just the day where you settle in to the new atmosphere."

"When do I get my stuff?" He inquired, noticing the room hadn't been touched since they had left.

The man shrugged. "Whenever they finish sifting through it. Then you'll be required to change into your uniform."

Zeke nodded and the nurse left the room. Unable to take it, Zeke sprawled across his bed and closed his eyes. Although he did get a good amount of sleep, when a woman nurse opened the door it felt like mere seconds.

Zeke looked up at her and sighed. "Hmm?" He asked tiredly as he sat up.

"We have your uniforms and your belongings, dear." She told him and set the pile of clothes at the foot of his bed.

"Thank you," he mumbled and got up. "So, just change into the uniform?"

She nodded. "Yes, that would be correct. And if you'd like to unpack some of your belongings that's fine too."

Zeke nodded and she exited the room, leaving him to change. He quickly slipped out of his clothes and into the red uniform on top of the pile.

He looked down at himself and realization set in.

"Ezekiel Kirner," he muttered to himself, "you are officially mentally insane."