Lucy looked around the room as she bite her snake bitten lip. The voices where still in her head and as always they made no sense at all. These voices were the reason she had attempted suicide, she is drove crazy by the endless moans. Around the room were lots of bookcases and paintings. The art wasn't to Lucy's tastes but some would say it was great.

This was not like her room in the slightest. Her walls were filled with writing of things she could make out in her head. Her floor scattered with clothes and books. The therapist was looking into Lucy’s eyes. She was not comfortable with the situation, as nobody else believes her about the voices.

"Lay back Lucy." The therapist said, "So what caused you to attempt to throw your life away?"
"It was the voices..."

"This is the third time this week that you're in here." a strict voice was trying to make itself known over the mind crushing headache Anthony felt as his brain started to awake. Though the polite center of his mind felt compelled to excuse his uselessness, his mouth failed to comply.

"Don't gargle at me, Mr. Whittaker, you're in enough trouble as it is." if he thought the voice was stern, it was nothing compared to the man it belonged to. An incredibly tall fellow in a dark suit, with black hair combed backwards. His face was sharp, and his eyes could probably be used as lie detectors. He clutched a fancy walking stick by his left side, watching Anthony with a slight frown centering around his mouth.

"How is your head?" he asked, turning what seemed like a friendly gesture into a question of life or death.

" 's alright," Anthony answered, sitting up on the sofa. "Hospital?" he inquired.

"For the third time this week, as previously stated," came the reply. "Do you realize what sort of resources is put into running this place, Mr. Whittaker? What the government has to sacrifice to make sure miscreants like yourself stay safe?"

"I have a certain idea," he agreed. "And I swear I'm as grateful as most kids around here -"

"Therefore," the man interrupted. "Therefore it's absolutely necessary for those involved to do their best in helping society."

"You're giving me community service?" Anthony stood up, not nearly reaching the man's height, but still attempting to look somewhat intimidating.

"Sort of like that." There was a slight twitch of lips that could be an attempt to smile. "You will be hearing from us, Mr. Whittaker. Good luck with your hangover."

Anthony watched him leave in disbelief.

"Oh, bugger me."

"Voices? What do the voices say?" The therapist asked Lucy.
"I don't know. There are lots of them and I can't figure out what they say." Lucy was at this point hoping the man could help her with her problems. He walked over to the bookcase by the door and pulled out a book. After looking at the index he flicked through the pages and stopped on one about mid-way. With a nod he looked down and begun to read.
"If the subject is hearing multiple voices in there head at once then this could be a serious mental illness. There is not yet a name for this illness but in many cases the subjects can result to self-harm or even suicide to solve the problem." The therapist read from the long pages of the book.

"I think this is what you have. To try to help I have someone that is going to try to help you." The therapist told Lucy.
"Are they nice? I mean I’m not going to let a nasty person help me." Lucy answered with a hint of sarcasm.
"Anthony is a 18 year old boy and he is a nice fellow. He has been through some bad things just like you have. I really think you will benefit from his help." He told her.

She felt like this would be a good time to make a friend. Maybe this Anthony will be cute. She suddenly couldn't wait to meet him.

'You will be hearing from us' apparently meant 'you will be given fifteen minutes to have breakfast before we'll contact you again'. Anthony was eating his way on a second piece of toast when the man reappeared, like a bloody shadow from the hallway.

"You look better already," he said, with a slight smug undertone. Anthony decided it was best not to answer.

"Luckily, one of the therapists required aid sooner than we expected, so you may begin shortly." The man twirled his cane slightly around in his hand, taking more interest in the fancy iron head than the human in front of him.

"What, exactly, will I be doing?" Anthony sighed, not even bothering to hide the fact that he didn't want to do this.

"A young girl by the name of Lucy Cosgrove has found herself in somewhat the same situation as yourself, when you were first brought to our attention. We wish for you to do your best in order to aid her -"

"So she doesn't end up like me?" Anthony asked bluntly.

"Heavens forbid," the man answered dryly. "I simply thought you'd be happy to help someone in a similar situation - as we've helped you in yours. You will do your best, won't you, Anthony?" It didn't sound like a question.

"Of course, um, sir," he answered.

"Very well, then. I believe a meeting is arranged in the therapist's office, if you would be so kind as to make your way there."

"Now?"

"Oh, yes. Wouldn't want to waste any valuable time, would we?" as if he'd been waiting on that cue, he brought a small fob watch out of his pocket, apparently checking the time before putting it back. When he noticed Anthony was hesitating, he brought the cane down on the floor with surprising force.

"Now, Mr. Whittaker."

Anthony practically ran, reaching the office in no time. It seemed strange, he thought to himself, as he paused outside the door to catch his breath, that he'd even run. If he'd only had better control of his power, he wouldn't have to. Giving a slight knock, he waited, straightening his t-shirt slightly, and feeling more stupid than ever.

"He should be here soon." Little did Lucy know this was very true.
"Good, I will look forward to meeting him. I have one question." She told him.
"Yes, Lucy?" He enquired.
"Is he cute?" She giggled at the expression on his face.
"Lucy, stop thinking about his looks and think about all the help he can give you..." Lucy shut out the sound of his voice. Would he be as cute as the boy in her dreams or will he be better. The truth is there wasn't just boys in her dreams. Lucy remembers her dreams vividly. Her dreams were some of the only times she didn't hear the voices. Once again she found herself thinking about the voices.

"If you just give him a chance I’m sure he will be great for you. I mean to help, you. Just let him help you and do as he says got it?" The therapist insisted.
"Yeah, um. I will do." Lucy replied to try and stop him from noticing her mental absence.
"It's no good! You just don't listen to me do you?" He didn't expect an answer.

As there was no reply, he opened the door himself with another knock to make sure he wasn't being too rude. He recognized one of the therapists that had taken care of him during group sessions when he first came here, and gave him a nod.

"Hey," he said, awkwardly, looking over towards the girl he was supposed to take care of. She seemed like a nice enough person, even if Anthony was very reluctant to acknowledge her presence - he still wasn't sure he wanted to do this. Actually, he was pretty sure he didn't. What good could he possibly add to her so-called progress? A map of the best types of wine you could buy for a low penny?

"I'm sorry, but what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?" he asked the therapist.

Suddenly in walked a boy looking rather tired. Lucy stood up at once.
"Ah, hello Anthony. Lucy this is the person I was telling you about." the therapist turned between Lucy and Anthony.
"Um, hello Anthony. I'm Lucy it's nice to meet you." Lucy said rather embarrassed.

"You are here to help us help Lucy. She has a rare condition that is similar to yours. And because you have been through it we thought you were the best person." Anthony seemed like he really had no idea.

Anthony did his best to give a polite smile to the girl, nodding in her direction. "Nice to meet you too," he said.

"You are here to help us help Lucy. She has a rare condition that is similar to yours. And because you have been through it we thought you were the best person."

"Rare condition, is that what you call it these days," he muttered, barely audible as he rubbed a hand over his mouth - a tired gesture one would expect from someone who just woke up.

"Right, well. I'll certainly do my best to help," he answered aloud.

"Well i think it would be best if you too got to know each otehr outside. Maybe the park?" the man said to the newly met pair. "It's just i have another patiant to see." He continued.
"Um, yeah i'm up for that. What about you Anthony?" Lucy said to the boy.

This would be graet for her to learn more about the voices. Maybe he has the voices too.

"Yeah," Anthony said, giving another slight smile. "Awesome."

He stepped outside, not really paying attention to whether or not Lucy was actually following, walking through the facility towards the activity room at the end. The room had a pair of large glass doors that were usually open at this time, revealing a quite impressive park behind the hospital, where there were already a few patients talking their morning walks alongside their nurses.

For a moment, he thought for a moment he spotted the man he'd met earlier out of the corner of his eye, but as he turned slightly to have a better look, the man was gone. Deciding not to dwell on it, Anthony stepped through the doors and down the small set of stairs leading towards a round fountain.

"So." He said. What were you supposed to say to a young girl, who apparently was a lot like 'his own situation'? What would he have wanted to hear when he first got here? He couldn't even remember - he'd been pretty far out when they pulled him out of the river. "Why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself?" he suggested.

"Well, I’m Lucy. I like dreams and sleeping. And cute girl-s I mean boys." Lucy stumbled over her words. "I don't get much quite time you see. It's the voices, they are always there I can't even think straight!" Lucy didn't lie, often.

Lucy was never a wordsmith. She enjoyed observing things rather than being involved. Lucy looked around the park and she saw many more people walking about and sitting on the few benches that were dotted around. Many nurses were stood by encase anything should happen.

"So, what about you?" She said rather awkwardly.

The girl seemed to stumble over her words, hurriedly adding that the voices in her head caused her to have problem with her concentration. Anthony didn't say anything, wondering slightly of he was dealing with an actual schizophrenic, and if he ought to be worried that she was going to turn homicidal on him.

They were currently headed towards the place where the reasonably sized park connected with a larger, public one. As they wouldn't be able to enter it through the gates, them being locked to prevent the more insane patients from escaping, he took a little turn, leading them into a more wooded area.

"Most people in here would probably define me as a problem child," Anthony answered. "It's difficult to have a proper future when you're often too depressed to consider it." He sighed, scratching his neck.

"Look." he said. "I'm not entirely sure what they think I can do to help you, alright? I'm not exactly a certified psychologist or anything. I've just been through a rough time, as I'm sure you have as well."

"Yeah, hard times. It wasn't my fault that I did it." Lucy stopped and thought about her mum. "It was my mum. She painted over my walls. I lost track of the voices.” Lucy told him in anger. Lucy's mother had painted over the writing she had on her walls. The writing contained all of the phrases she understood from the voices.

"Well if you have been through a lot maybe you can help me?" she had a quick thought that made her say this. "Do you want to know about the voices? Most people ask me about them but you didn't."

Lucy followed Anthony towards the woods on the other end of the hospital park.

Truth be told, he wasn't sure he wanted to know too much about the voices, but he asked regardless. He was starting to wonder exactly what the psychologist had meant by her being in the same situation as him, and seeing as he was no therapist himself he had little interest in something that merely seemed like psychological damage.

Even so, he decided to listen, putting his hands into his pockets as they walked through the wooden garden. As few of the patient bothered to go this way, the pathway was slightly overgrown, but not to such a degree that it couldn't be walked over. Eventually, the path would turn and lead them around the other way, back to the fountain where they began. For now, they entered a small clearance, surprisingly dry and full of dead leaves.

"Okay," Anthony said. "Why don't you tell me about the voices, then?"

Lucy thought for a minute before answering. "The voices... They are an endless noise in my head. It's like being in a room full of people that are all talking. I can’t understand much of it so if I remember anything I write it down on my walls. This has been going on since I was 13." Lucy was up front with Anthony.

"So you don't have the voices? Maybe he was wrong to get you to help?" Lucy started to question the boy. However much she thought about it she couldn't think of a way Anthony and her were alike.

Even though he wasn't particularly fond of the idea of helping anyone with anything, he was strongly against being questioned by a girl two years younger than him.

"Hey," he said, insulted. "Just because I don't hear voices in my head doesn't mean there's anyone better in this sanatorium to help you." He'd stopped now, crossing his hands defensively as he looked at her.

"I've been through more than most people in this place, I know more about what goes in people's minds than these so-called psychologists, and what makes you think that you can judge my capabilities anyway?"

Anthony sucked in his cheeks while breathing through his nose, trying to calm his mind. The thought occurred to him that Lucy might not even know what sort of place this was. Did she have a power? Did it have something to do with those voices in her head? Was he supposed to find out?

"I have blackouts," he revealed. "My mind sometimes goes blank, and I'll wake up somewhere else entirely with no recollection of how I got there." Which was true, even though he later found out it was due to his teleportation ability.

"It's usually a sign of Dissociative identity disorder, alongside or instead of hearing voices in your head," he ended. "So, you know, it might be the same thing."

"You're cute when you’re angry." Lucy giggled at him seemingly forgetting all he said. "Sometimes I wish my mind was blank. The silence would be great!" Lucy smiled knowing she got under his skin. "Maybe we are the same but I don't think you have taken it as far as I have." Lucy looked to Anthony to see if he had brightened up.

Lucy might have gotten the wrong idea when he said he didn't know how he would help. She just wishes that he hadn't flipped the way he had.

They'd gone far enough into the woods to not be heard by the others out walking, as few of the patients enjoyed the darkness that seemed to linger over the small opening they were standing in. The trees around them were dried up and grey, giving the place a slightly horror-movie like look. Still, there was a small park bench in one end, though only barely visible as the plants around the ground had begun to grow upwards, curling around its feet, and the bench itself had lost the white colour it once had.

Though he'd calmed down a little, Anthony still gave an irritated huff at her first comment, refusing to un-cross his arms just yet. He listened to what she had to say, and raised his eyebrow a little when she pointed out that he most likely 'hadn't taken it as far as she had'. Unwittingly breaking into people's flats and almost dying from hypothermia prior to a suicide attempt in the river seemed pretty far to him.

"And how far would that be?" he asked, still with a bit of an edge to his voice even though he wasn't exactly mad at her.

Lucy looked down and kicked at the floor. "Well it seems stupid but the voices drove me crazy. It was late at night, I walked through to the bathroom and grab all the pain killers." Lucy paused for a moment. "They were fine at first and the voices even went away. I fell out of conscienceless and was rushed of to hospital. After that a nurse told me that they couldn't contact me parents. They left me, in the hospital by my self. The voices were back and well, I just can't understand what they are." Lucy explained to Anthony. "Why did you do anything that is worse than that?"

Anthony listened closely, putting his hands into his pockets as Lucy seemed to grow uncomfortable talking about her attempt - at whatever she had actually tried to do. Making the voices go away, he supposed, whether she actually wanted to kill herself or just didn't think straight.

"Depends on how you view it, I suppose," he answered. "Jumped into the Thames early in the morning, after the third time I'd woken up somewhere I shouldn't have. I blacked out again, and was suddenly standing on the edge. It seemed like a good idea." He paused, trying to look nonchalant as he described the night he tried to kill himself.

"A bystander called for help and I was saved before I could swallow too much water, and they put me in here. It was mid-winter, so I almost died of hypothermia on my way here and after, but the doctors are good. They keep bringing me back, every time I wake up somewhere else," he explained.

"These voices of yours - can you ever make out what they're saying? Are they always the same?" He was starting to get a few theories about Lucy's power, but he needed more information.

"It’s not very often that I can understand. When I do I make sure to write it down. The voices are manly to crowded but sometimes the voices are different." Lucy begun to wonder what he was thinking. "Why do you know someone else or something?" She really wished this were true.

The voices were quieter now and one begun to stand out more than the others. The voice was male but she couldn't figure it out. "Lucy..." She heard the word in her head. She raised her head and looked up to Anthony. He seemed calm now but he didn't seem too comfortable. His hands were in his pockets and so were hers. Her jeans were skinny and had little room in the pockets for her hands but she always managed to slip them in.

"No, I don't really know anyone else," he admitted. "I knew this one guy that was frighteningly good at telling what people was thinking, he claimed he heard voices in his head from time to time." Anthony failed to mention that this person had been a mind reader, and eventually succeeded in killing himself as a result.

"Anyway, he said that the voices would be strongest when he was around people, and then they would fade away or become less frequent when he was completely alone, or at least far away from other people." It couldn't hurt to try, at least, he thought. "Doctors said he was schizophrenic, of course, but nobody really believed them."

"Well, they are sometimes weaker than usual. Like now they are quieter than they were before. There is one voice that sticks out." Lucy said truthfully. She didn't really know what a schizophrenic was but it didn't sound good. Lucy enjoyed being on her own in places nobody else knew about. Sometimes she would go out into the woods looking for clearings to hide in.

By now Lucy was thinking about changing the subject from her to Anthony. The voices were not her favourite subject, as she never really gets away from them. "So, what do i need to know about you? I mean you know about me know so i want to know about you." Lucy was curious as to his personality.

She's a mind reader. It's got to be that, Anthony thought to himself while Lucy explained. But how to tell her? Most people would just stare at you blankly if a complete stranger told them that the reason they had voices in their heads was because of an ability to read minds. It was the sort of thing that simply didn't happen, especially not in the modern world. He mentally cursed the doctors for dumping their problem on him instead of taking care of it themselves, and almost didn't catch what Lucy said next.

"I'm -" he paused. "I'm not really that important in this case, I would say. I suffer from depression from time to time, and then there's the blackouts - and I get panic attacks that leaves me unable to leave the house willingly every now and then." Anthony shrugged. "I smoke, I drink, and I do my best to be a good person despite it."

What is a good person, anyway, these days, he wondered. It was easy to say he was trying to be good, but a small pang of regret hit him the minute the words escaped his mouth. The only 'good' thing he'd really done in the last couple of years was taking Lucy under his wing - and that was only fifteen minutes ago, and it had been unwillingly. He scratched his neck awkwardly, having found sudden interest in staring at the overgrown bench in the corner, before realizing they hadn't moved since his earlier outburst. Whoops.

"Your life seems hard, to say the least." Lucy lied as to not seem like she thought she was the only one with problems. Truth was she didn't really think that depression and these 'blackouts' were as bad as not being able to think straight because of constant moans in your head.

"So. Now I think introductions are over. What can we do for fun around here? You see I’m from out of town." Lucy lived in a town that was 14 miles away from the hospitals hometown. It was not the nicest town but it was a very small place. Lucy preferred the smaller towns and would rather be there than in a huge city full of shops.