Scott shakily walked to the front desk, trying to push all his conflicting emotions to the back of his mind.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Y-yeah, uh, I was wondering when I could visit a man by the name of Vincent? I-I don't know his last name, he's never told me, uh..."

"He's in a coma, for now. He's not gonna do much. And visiting hours for patients on suicide watch start two hours from now. You can have a seat in the waiting room until then."

Scott shook his head, mumbling a "Thank you" and pushing through the doors of the hospital, walking in the same quick pace until he reached Vincent's house. He remembered the address from Vincent's first day of work, and the paperwork he'd filled out. He was surprised to find the door unlocked, and he pushed his way inside, shoving aside a pile of delivered mail, unread by its comatose recipient.

"Hello hello?" he shouted, though he knew he'd get no response. He made his way around the unkempt house, picking up loose trash and throwing it away, adjusting things here and there until he made his way to the bedroom.

The bed was, surprisingly, made neatly. A row of pill bottles in various stages of fullness laid neatly along the bedside table, and out of curiosity, Scott looked through their names. It looked like Vincent was on every mental medication in the book. On the end was an empty bottle, tipped over with its white cap on the floor. Scott looked at it a bit forlornly, knowing he must have used the pills inside to overdose. He picked up the cap and twisted it back on, propping up the orange bottle so it was in line with the others, as if its contents hadn't nearly killed a man.

He walked back into the hospital exactly two hours later.