I was really excited to write this chapter. I hope you like it :)

Tyler

Five days in the psych ward—excuse me, recovery center—and I'm still alive. It's not as bad as I thought it would be, but it's not as good either. It's just kind of...average. The people here are broken like me, but nice. I've discovered that trials can either harden or soften a person. There's proof of that here.

I've kind of kept to myself since I arrived. I know a few people from group, but don't talk to them outside of sessions. I eat in the corner of the cafeteria where I can't be bothered. I have a roommate like everyone else, but we haven't really talked much. All I know is that his name is Greg, and he's here for the same reason I am. A lot of us are, in fact.

The few patients that I do know are nice. There's Brook, who paints watercolor on her hands and wrists; cool colors always on the left, warm colors always on the right. She's never said what she was in here for.

There's Hailey, who is borderline anorexic and very self-conscious about her appearance, despite her beautiful features. I wish I could tell her how pretty she is (not the same kind of pretty as Jenna, but still pretty), but she's a little shy, so I don't want to come across as creepy.

And finally, there's a pink-haired boy. He wouldn't say his name, but he does great voice impressions. He slightly brightens the room and makes the sickly yellow walls a little less sick when he does his impressions in group. Today he was Kermit the Frog.

After lunch, everyone gets one hour of free time. Most people use it to make phone calls, write letters, go to the art room, or hang out in their dorms. I, on the other hand go to the music room. I don't think I would've survived this place without that or my ukulele.

Walking through the carpeted hallway, I stride through the doorway to the familiar room that I've visited every day that I've stayed here so far. Since I'm here for fourteen days, I decided to sing one song from my self-titled album a day. Today I'm on Friend, Please.

I have the room to myself, as usual. The only instruments in here is a slightly out-of-tune piano, some drum pads, and an acoustic guitar with nylon strings (not steel because it can cut). I actually took the time one day to tune it the best I could with the piano because it just sounded so awful. It's not like anyone will really play it anytime soon.

Pulling out the bench, I sit down at the piano, stretching my fingers in anticipation. I've been itching to play all morning. After searching my memory, I find the right keys and begin to play.

"I feel for you but when did you believe you were alone?

"You say that spiders crawled inside and made themselves a home

"where light once was..."

I sing my heart out, not caring how loud I am. People need to hear me. I want them to be inspired by my music. That's why I wrote it.

"Friend...please, remove your hands from o-ver your eyes for me.

"I know you want to leave, but friend, please don't take your life away from me."

I hold out the last chords, breathing heavily. I look up, and that's when I realize that I'm not alone. A guy with shaggy, black hair and slight feminine facial features leans against the doorway, staring at me, the dark circles under his eyes visible from where I'm sitting across the room. He cocks his head and claps slowly and softly, stepping forward.

"You'd better be careful about what you sing around here. You might catch the attention of the nurses," he says in a teasing manner, his bangs flopping over his eyes.

"Oh," I reply softly, looking down at the piano keys. The guy glances at the bench for permission to sit down. I slide over as he takes a seat.

"So what are you in here for?" he asks, looking at me.

"Um..." I trail. Where'd this guy come from? He's not in group or anything. I think I've seen him in the cafeteria and halls once or twice.

He smirks. "You must be a little shy. I'll go first then. Let's see, well, I'm an alcoholic, and one night I came home drunk after my girlfriend broke up with me and took a bunch of pills. Then, my little brother just so happened to come over to my house that night. He found me and took me to the hospital, the little jerk. Now I'm here. So, how about you?" He rests his chin in his hand and raises his eyebrows expectantly. This guy acts like failing to kill yourself is casual conversation.

"Um...well..." My eyes dart around, then land on his black, leather jacket. I clear my throat. "I couldn't handle my demons, so I called my girlfriend and broke up with her when I thought she was in Northern Ohio, then tried jumping off a cliff near my house. Turns out, she had come home early. She found me before I jumped and made me come here. We're back together now."

"Ooo, spicy," he says. "So why'd you want to kill yourself?"

"I just told you. I couldn't handle the voices in my head so—"

"I think there's more to it than that," he interrupts.

I sigh. "Well, there was this guy that kidnapped my girlfriend, stole my car radio, and burned my treehouse, which had a notebook full of songs that I had written inside of it."

"Was that an original?"

"What?"

"The song you were playing."

I nod.

"It was pretty good," he says. "Are you in a band?"

I nod again.

"I am, too. I won't ask the name of your band though, that way we won't judge each other's music in the future. Like I don't want to hear one of your songs and think, 'oh yeah, that's by that guy I met in the insane asylum.' But hey, I think everyone has a little bit of crazy in them," he states, a twinkle in his eye. "So, how many songs have you written?"

"Um...well, my band's album has fourteen on it, and I've written a solo album, and my band is working on another album right now. So...quite a bit. What about you?"

He thinks for a moment, various title names forming on his lips. "As of last year, about five albums."

"Wow," I reply. "Do you think you could play something for me?"

He shrugs. "Sure. Trade me." We trade places on the bench so he can reach the treble range better. He takes a deep breath, then starts playing. I recognize an E chord and B chord. He plays a repeated introduction for about ten seconds, then starts to sing.

"Turn away

"If you could get me a drink of water cause my lips are chapped and faded,

"Call my Aunt Marie

"Help her gather all my things and bury me in all my favorite colors,

"my sisters and my brothers, still.

"I will not kiss you

"Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you."

I listen to him quietly as he sings. The song is short, but well-spoken and meaningful. I clap when he finishes. He grins a little bit.

"What was that one called?" I ask him.

"Cancer," he replies.

I smile. "I like it."

"Thanks." He clasps his hands together in his lap. "So, are you making a career out of your band?"

"Um...well...I don't really know. My parents want me to do basketball and want me to go to college, so I'm probably going to do that."

The guy squints at me, then stands up. "Play another song."

"What?" My brows furrow in confusion at the sudden subject change.

"Play another song and sing. I'm going to watch you. Play a new one that you've been working on."

"Um...okay," I reply quietly. I start to play some chords until it slowly morphs into one of my songs.

"I don't know why I feed on emotion. There's a stomach inside my brain.

"I don't wanna be heard, I wanna be listened to. Does it bother anyone else that someone else has your name?"

I play and sing, all while seeing the black-haired guy stare at me from my peripheral vision. He does a full lap around me, still staring. I shake my head and focus back on my music.

"Hands held higher, we'll be on fire...

"Hands held higher,

"We'll be on fire."

I look up from the piano and meet the guy's gaze. He squints at me. "Stick to music, kid. You'll regret it if you don't. As an experienced musician, I know you're going to go far."

"But what about my paren—"

"Don't worry about them. This is your life, not theirs. Live it the way you want to because one day your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure it's worth watching."

"Thank you," I say quietly. "You don't know how long I've been at war at myself with career paths. And to hear it come out of a strangers mouth that my music is good...t-that motivates me."

The guy smiles. "You're welcome." He glances at the clock hanging on the wall. "Our hour is almost up. We should start walking to our next area."

"Yeah." I stand up as he heads toward the door. "I didn't catch your name."

He turns around. "Gerard."

I walk toward him. "I'm Tyler."

He holds out a hand. "Nice to meet you, Tyler."

I shake it. "Nice to meet you too, Gerard."

A nurse walks past the doorway. "Time to go to your next location, boys."

"Yes, ma'am," Gerard says. He turns to me. "Will I be seeing you at dinner? You've looked all lonesome sitting there in the corner of the cafeteria."

I shrug. "I don't see any harm sitting with you."

He grins, then claps me on the back. "Great. See you then." With that, he leaves my side and disappears down a different hallway. A faint grin creeps onto my face as I walk. Maybe the leftover nine days here won't be as lonely.

A/N: I know it's not recommended to introduce a new character towards the end of a book, but I couldn't help it XD

I'm also coming back from Pennsylvania, and I almost snorted when we passed a road sign that said "Stay in Lane."

School starts on Monday, which is like a week early for me this year, so I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update.

There are five chapters left, guys! *cries* I'll also make a big author's note and acknowledgements chapter after that. Until next chapter, Stay Alive! |-/