Haley finished writing and flopped down on her bed. She stared through the barred window and sighed. Then hid her pencil under her pillow. On the Adolescent floor of Crane Hospital, patients weren’t allowed to have pens or pencils in their rooms, the ever creative patients might use them to hurt themselves. Haley knew this rule. She’d broken this same rule at all the hospitals she’d been in.

This hospital was hospital number eight for fifteen year old Haley. She knew she was nearing the end of the line. It wouldn’t take much more for Haley to be forced to move at of her house and live in a residential treatment program for emotionally and mentally ill teens. Residential was the last place she wanted to go. Every time Haley got out of a hospital, she’d promise herself that it would be the last one. Things would go well for a while, but then would come the relapse and an ambulance, and back to the hospital she’d go.

With each hospitalization, Haley felt more and more defeated. It got harder and harder for her to imagine herself achieving her dreams.

“You’re going to end up killing yourself one of these days.” The doctor at the emergency room had told her yesterday.. “You can’t just keep treating your body like this and expect to live to age eighty.”

Haley had nodded sadly. She knew. It was getting harder and harder for her to imagine herself as an adult. She could barely imagine herself in a year. It scared her.

“I know you’ll get better.” Her dad had told her. “I just know it.” Haley wanted to believe her dad so badly, but with each passing overdose, each passing cut, it was getting harder and harder to believe.

Haley slid herself under the antiseptic scented blankets and tried to block all thought out of her head. Some days she just wished she could sleep for ever. Today was one of those days.

Just as Haley’s eyes were about to drift shut, she heard the sound of rattling keys coming down the hall, and then a voice calling her name.

“Haley, Haley, it’s the doctor wants to see you.”

Haley mumbled something intelligible. And slowly sat up, clearing the sleep from her mind. One of the Mental Health Workers on the unit was standing there.

“All right.” She whispered in her quiet voice as she rolled out of bed and pulled her slippers on Haley would much rather have worn her sneakers except they’d been taken away when she had been admitted. Because Haley was a run away she was on “Escape Precautions”, which meant she couldn’t go off the unit at all for activities, and she couldn’t have her shoes, or clothes. Instead she’d been given a hospital gown to wrap around herself. Because of Haley’s small size, the gown fell all the way to her ankles, and was a pain because she kept tripping on it as she walked down the hall toward the meeting room where she’d meet with the doctor.

“Which doctor do I have?” Haley asked the Mental Health worker whose name tag read Chris.

“Dr. Fowler, he’s new.”

Just my luck. Haley thought to herself. I’m going to get a new doctor fresh out of residency, who has no idea what he’s doing.

When they stopped at the door to the meeting room, Haley crossed her fingers and prayed that he wouldn’t be a total idiot or someone who’d try to pigeon hole her into some ridiculous diagnosis that didn’t fit. Haley had been diagnosed with almost every diagnosis under the sun, and she knew the hell she could be put through while being treated for a disorder that she didn’t have.

Chris knocked on the door.

“Come on in,” called a male voice.

Darn it, thought Haley, it has to be a man. Haley was much more comfortable around women then men. Maybe it was because of the five years of abuse she’d endured, maybe it was just her personality. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that women made her much more comfortable.