Fluorescent.

He walked into the room, nearly stumbling, his dark hair covering his tired eyes. I was tired too. I don't know if I'm more ashamed than tired. But I'm tired too. Same shit, different day as they say, that's how it is for me. The clock just shows the mess I'm in. Everyday he walks the stairs to the rooms. Everyday he knocks on my door. Everyday I am so kind as to ignore those knocks. Everyday he walks in anyway.

I honestly don't know how some people can get so bloody stupid. There aren't many hiding spots in an all white room with a single twin-sized bed and a pillow. But a psych ward is merely a dealing ground for paranoid, psychotic, schizo-bastards. Safety pins are some of the easiest devices to come by.

I'm addicted to self-mutilation. Ding ding ding, we have a fucking winner. Can I get any more cliché? No matter how many times I tell them that I'm not going to kill myself no body gives a shit to listen. Honestly, I really won't. I'm not depressed per say. But try telling my parents that. Though I suppose it makes sense, one cut a little too deep and everyone decides all of a sudden that you're completely off the deep end. I swear, people these days.

Here he comes again, all sassy sauntering hips I bet he doesn't even notice he's got and fast fast hands. He's the only one who really makes me feel guilty. Although I'm not in love with the guy, he can't make me stop. I'm like the mad freaking hatter. He notices that I've covered every inch, every centimeter of skin on both forearms horizontally, and that I've began my stains vertically so that the stains are going in a somewhat tic-tac-toe board fashion.

``You know I call my mutilations stains? I like the word stains better than cuts. A cut doesn't sound as permanent as a stain. I've stained myself because that's permanent. You get it?'' I say as he starts to wrap my left arm up. He nods a quick, curt nod. And nothing else. In that quick and curt nod I could see the pink lips that hide from me everyday seeing as he refuses to look at me. He's only really looked at me a few times before. ``Do you like the word stain better than the word cut?'' He ignores my question. ``You know, I may be in a psych ward but I'm not crazy yet. I'm not talking to myself.'' I continue picking with him. He continues ignoring me. ``You know, I've started some sick scarification on my l-''

``That's enough Frank!'' He says, his voice loud and more scary than I thought it would be. I hiss in pain as he squeezes my wrists, emitting fresh blood in the form of hand prints. This was always a game for me. He's not qualified to talk to the patients. This was huge. ``I'll um, go get more wraps for your wrists, and some for your leg, too.'' He whispers. Well, what a new addition to my life. I think I'll write about this in my diary.

Another night of scarification. This idea is pretty fun. So far I'd stained a massive star into my right thigh. I begin something that'll really make Gerard's skin crawl, I start to stain his name into my other thigh. Really, I had nothing better to think of. The idea of scarification was given to me by another patient who I heard over-talking to another. I can't remember the girls name. Some Romanian emo chick with a cutting problem. There were a lot of depressed cutters here. I was the only stainer. I guess that's why I didn't get a room with another patient. But that's okay, I like the quiet of my own room. Sometimes I make up fictional characters to keep me company. Don't worry, I know they're not real. I'm not that crazy yet. My favorite character is named Sies. Pronounced sighs. It's made to match his pathetic lifestyle. He's this rabbit who looks almost cracked-out. Except he doesn't really do drugs. See, he was unqualified to be an Easter bunny seeing as he isn't really the most Peter-cotton-tail looking mother-fucker out there. So now, instead of bringing joy to the faces of little bastards every year and making so much of a living that he doesn't have to work any other day of the year like the Easter-bitches, he works a gruesome job in a factory. He likes to bowl in his spare time. He also likes to visit the fish aquarium. The employees tell him not to tap the glass. He taps the glass anyway.
``It doesn't seem like the rain will be letting up anytime soon.'' Romanian girl says.
``I know, I heard that outside is so flooded that the workers that usually go home will have to stay here tonight.'' Another girl with corn colored dyed hair says. Her roots are fading really really badly. I think it looks pretty nice though.
``Times Up!'' yells fat Peg, one of the nurses. There's this massive rumor that she had her psycho husband lobotomized and that he now stays in a padded room on the top floor. Anyway, the fat cow announced that it was time for us to all head to our rooms.

I sat on my bed, staring at the pitch black that surrounded me. This fucking sucks. All of the thunderstorms and rain were nice, nice to hear, nice to see, would've been nice to smell if I could open a fucking window. But anyway, it was all a nice change of pace until all the fucking power went out. I've been allowed to have a nightlight since as long as I've been here because no matter how badly I wanted to stain myself breaking my night light was not worth sleeping in the pitch black dark. Yes I am 17 and still afraid of the dark. I don't think I'll ever overcome it. The dark could eat you alive. And I might as well be toast. Three taps at my door and I nearly jumped out of my own skin, biting down on my loose thumb skin until that too was gushing blood. ``C-come in!'' I said and a lighting bolt lit up the room for a millisecond. Of course, it was Gerard. He held a flash light in one hand, and my wraps in the other. Why didn't I think rationally about who was at the door before? Damn weather getting to me. Every night he has to bring more wraps than the night before. I hope to be a fucking mummy one day. He holds the flash light in his mouth and wraps my second arm with his hands. I can't help to laugh at his demeanor. Honestly I'm just happy to have the source of light. And Gerard here too, I guess.
``What're you laughing at?'' Gerard says, after pulling the flash light out of his mouth. I shake my head but continue smiling. I haven't really smiled in a long time. Like I said, I'm not depressed per say, but there's not really much all to smile about when you're le psych ward. Gerard makes his way to my legs and I can see his eyes light up with confusion, guilt, and finally anger as he takes in his name stained into my thigh. ``Why would you do this?'' Gerard says, flash light and wraps falling from his hands. I thought this would just be another way to get a rise out of him, to make him talk for me again. To make him talk to me again. I never really thought it would hurt all this much to see the expression of true anger on his face. True anger towards me.
``I'm sorry Gerard h-honest, I didn't know what else to stain! Please don't take it personally, I-I'm real sorry.'' I can hear my voice cracking. I shouldn't be so worked up about this.
``N-never mind.'' He says in a low voice, continuing to wrap my stains in silence.
When he's all done he gets up to leave and I can feel the anxiety rising in my throat like bile.
``Please don't go just yet! I-I'm afraid of the dark Gerard.'' I whisper in anticipation, tugging on his shirt sleeve from my place on the bed. He tosses me the flash light without another word. ``Gerard the weather's real bad, I don't wanna be trapped up in this room all alone. Please just stay, I really am very very sorry about my leg. I didn't mean for you to get upset over it, I just wanted to hear you talk to me. Even if it was out of anger for my stupid actions. People don't talk to me much here.'' I plead. Gerard smiles sympathetically in the small amount of light. He turns around and sits next to me on my small twin-sized bed, legs folded. Before I know it we're making shadow puppets on the ceiling. I tell Gerard about my bunny Sies. Gerard tells me I should really get an ugly bunny named Sies. He also tells me about how much he likes candy corn. I tell him that I get a shitload of candy corn on Halloween considering it's the day I was born. Gerard slides his hand into mine. Fitting his fast fast fingers in-between my cruel stained ones.