A/N: Okay, so it's been forever and a day since I last posted. I'm really sorry, I'll get back into the swing of things, I promise!

"That's ridiculous, Charlee! How many times do I have to tell you? Olivia is harmless!"

Charlee rolled her eyes. "If she was so harmless, then why did you warn me about her?"

Wren threw his hands up in the air. "Because I didn't want you to go in there and start talking to her and irritating her!"

"Yeah right, that's totally something that I would do."

Wren sighed heavily and turned away from her, focusing on the episode of Spongebob that was on TV.

"Some friend you are," she growled as she vacated her seat.

Sitting down at the empty table, Charlee intended to stew in her frustration until Wren came to beg for forgiveness. However, her plans were put on hold when Mrs. Amy strode up and joined her.

Mrs. Amy clicked her fingernails against the clipboard she carried. "Hey, Charlee."

Charlee pursed her lips in irritation—she didn't want to talk to anyone right now, least of all Mrs. Amy.

"So, I was looking in your chart and I saw that you threatened to kill yourself and then ran away from your aunt's home."

Her New Jersey accent brushed over the words like it was no big deal. Clenching her jaw, Charlee grabbed the blank coloring page from the center of the table, along with some crayons. "Yup."

"Why don't you tell me about that?"

Charlee ground her teeth before spitting out, "You just read it. What more can I add?"

Mrs. Amy leaned her head on her hand. "I find that there is usually more to the story than what is written in the chart. And, seeing as it's my job to help you, the first step is to learn what put you here."

"The cops put me here," Charlee said drily as she used a red crayon to color Bugs Bunny.

"Obviously," she replied as she rolled her eyes. "I want to know why you thought it was necessary to run away from home."

Charlee rubbed harder with the red crayon, painting Bugs's ear blood red. "My aunt and I had an argument."

"About what?"

Charlee pressed harder on the crayon, no longer worrying about staying inside the lines. "She wanted me to weed the flower beds and I didn't want to."

Mrs. Amy knitted her eyebrows together. "That's why you ran away?"

The crayon broke in half as Charlee's already hard grip tightened and split it in two. "Yes, it is. Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

The tech raised her eyebrows at the aggression in the young patient's voice. "I think that's enough for now," she replied with a serene smile before taking her clipboard and returning to the alcove to continue with the mountain of paperwork next to her chair.

Throwing the remnants of the crayon into the plastic Tupperware, Charlee returned to her room to fetch the journal Mr. Roy had given her the night she arrived. She was as pissed as an opossum being chased by a pack of feral dogs and planned on ranting in her journal. And, by ranting, she meant scribbling about how much of a bitch Mrs. Amy was. Reaching her quarters, she walked into her room only to see Olivia perched on the edge of her bed. Oh shit, she thought to herself, her whole body on high alert. She could feel the cold tile against her stockinged feet and the knots in her back as she considered the best plan of action. She could just run in and run out with her journal, but Olivia would still see her and, worse than that, she would know that she scared Charlee shitless. Then again, the crazy bitch probably figured that out by now, so she really had nothing to lose.

Just as Charlee was gathering the courage to bolt past the petite girl, grab her journal, and race back to the Day Room before Olivia could say a thing, she spoke.

"I know that, Uriel!" Olivia yelled, her long fingers tightening around her head as she held it.

Charlee's bones turned to ice as it dawned on her that Olivia was talking to herself. She waited with bated breath for Olivia to say something more, but the girl remained quiet. Throwing her desire to survive her stay at Rosemary Behavioral Hospital out the window, she stepped into her room. "Hey Olivia!"

Olivia jumped like a frightened bunny rabbit before narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "What do you want?"

"Nothing, just getting my journal," Charlee replied, striding over to her shelves that held all her personal items and grabbing the composition notebook that rested next to her clothes. She turned around to see Olivia glaring at her. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes, there is," she growled. She scowled as she crossed her arms. "I want you out of my room."

Anger surged inside Charlee like the ocean current at high tide. Her room? Like hell it is! A part of her wanted to set this girl straight, but a larger part remembered the look on Olivia's face during group and the random exclamation Charlee just overheard. "I'm leaving now," she answered before making a steady retreat back to the Day Room.

Safely among the roiling masses of the child/adolescent unit, Charlee slinked into the only vacated table. The other one had been taken up by a loud game of Uno. She ran her fingers through her hair. What the hell just happened? she thought, her mind a pulsing, multi-tentacled monster, sifting and guessing and hypothesizing. Tendrils of thought unleashed themselves in all directions, combing their way through all the possibilities, from the probable to the downright absurd.

"Hey Charlee."

She looked up to see a puppy-eyed Wren holding his journal, his eyes wide and pleading. Before she could say a word, Wren interrupted her.

"I'm sorry. You're pretty new here and you must be pretty scared, but it isn't Olivia you should be scared of." At the look of outrage on Charlee's face, Wren held up his hand. "Okay, I know you're going to be mad at that, but it's the truth."

"But Wren I just—"

Wren's face hardened as he interrupted her. "Look Charlee I want to be friends with you, but it's annoying when you keep bringing Olivia up all the time. Seriously, you shouldn't be worried—"

"But—"

"No, Charlee, can't you just drop the sub—"

"No, Wren, I can't!" she all but yelled.

"Is there a problem over there?" Mrs. Amy asked from behind the desk.

Charlee rolled her eyes. "No ma'am." Mrs. Amy gave her signature 'Oh, really?' look before sighing and dropping back down onto her chair.

Turning back to Wren, Charlee said, "Olivia is seriously crazy, I don't care if you believe me but it's true."

Plopping his gangly frame into a chair, he groaned dramatically before burying his face in his hands. "Why can't you just drop it?" he moaned.

Charlee punched him in the arm.

"Ow!" he yelped, holding the place where she punched him gingerly. "What was that?" he asked indignantly.

"That was karma," Charlee replied, crossing her arms and glaring. "For leaving your friend at the mercy of a madwoman."

"She isn't—"

"You wouldn't be singing the same tune if you saw what I saw."

He knitted his eyebrows. "What did you see?"

Leaning in conspiratorially, Charlee recounted what she overheard while outside her room. When Charlee finished her tale he sighed and leaned back, rubbing his forehead.

"Well?" Charlee asked, looking at him with wide, honey-colored eyes.

"Uriel."

"Yeah. 'I know that, Uriel.' What about it?

"Uriel is the name of an archangel."

"Oh," Charlee replied, not knowing what to say to this.

"He's supposed to be the angel that guards the gates of Eden with a fiery sword, presides over Hell, and is known as the Angel of Vengeance."

"Okay," she said, drawing out the word as if it were a slinky. "So Olivia thinks the Angel of Vengeance speaks to her?"

"Unless it's a different Uriel, but considering Uriel isn't all that common of a name…probably."

"And the chick hates me with a burning passion," Charlee stated drily as she pressed her cheek against the cool table.

"She doesn't hate you," Wren said, patting her back comfortingly.

Charlee raised her head and cocked an eyebrow. "After all that, you still don't think she's out to get me?"

He grimaced. "Okay, maybe you're right."

Charlee pressed the heels of her hands against her eyelids, relishing the pain. "And I've never been this upset about being right in my life."

A/N: So, whadya think? If you have the time, please leave a review! I'd love to hear what you think of the story and how I can improve my writing. Thanks for reading!