Bloody hell. It's Friday.

I know, I know, it's meant to be 'Thank God, It's Friday' and all that, but it's kind of hard to feel like that when you live in a fucking mental institution.

When every single day is the same thing.

Except today.

Which is exactly the reason why I hate it.

It's visitor day. The day I actually used to look forward to until Lizzy...until I...well, yeah.

Now it's just another pointless day in the life of Newt the Hopeless Case.

Newt the Fuck-Up.

Newt.

Me.

Somebody I don't want to be.

Now today is just a day when I get to see the other people in here with their family and their friends and I'm followed around by the constant reminder that nobody gives two shits  about me.

Why would they? I wouldn't.

I don't.

I stare up at the ceiling, trying to put off the fact that I have to get out of bed. Have to go to breakfast. Have to face Gally.

Bloody hell, I have to face him knowing what he did to Tommy.

Thomas.

I'm distracted as I think about him. I'm always thinking about him. It's become more of a reflex now. I've given up trying to fight it.

And for the first time, I actually believe that defeat is a good thing.

I wonder who Thomas has coming to see him.

Family? Maybe his mum, his dad? Maybe a broth-no. Not a brother.

Chuck is dead.

Dead.

Because of the person they want me to be friends with. I can't do it. I don't want to do it. They can't make me.

But they can.

And they have.

Just like they always will.

Voices. Always controlling me.

My thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door.

Not a supervisor. They're not polite enough to knock.

"Come in," I mumble.

The door opens. It's Teresa. She looks concerned.

"Newt, you missed breakfast. What's wrong? I mean, I know today's tough but God, you never sleep in. Wait, you're sleeping in? You slept? So, you're getting better, right?"

Okay, so one, I missed breakfast? Wow. Two, I actually slept?! For the first time in-well, I don't even know. Maybe I am getting better.

"Teresa, calm down," I assure her, "I'm fine. I promise."

Her shoulders instantly relax and I see the look of worry leave her face.

"What's up anyway?"

"Nothing really. The visitors are all here."

"Oh," I say. A look of disappointment must have crossed my face, as she comes and sits with me.

"Want to talk about it?", she says, nudging my arm playfully. It's her way of cheering me up, the only way she knows how. We have these conversations quite often, and it brightens my day from time to time, knowing that I have a real friend in her.

"I will, if you will," my usual reply escaping my lips, a small smile forming on both of our faces.

She turns, crossing her legs as she sits on the mattress, facing me as I do the same.

This has got to be better than what's past that door. I'd rather be having these talks with Teresa than with Dr. Paige. She's someone I feel I can trust.

I'd rather be having these talks than facing Gally.

Than facing Thomas.

But am I scared of facing Thomas?

I don't think I am. I think it's more of a thrill. A thrill that I haven't felt in a long time. One that I crave.

But I can't. Not after the way I left him. Not after finding out the truth.

Not after  giving him a nickname. Tommy? What the hell was I thinking?

But he liked Tommy. He said so.

And you should trust everything he says? What kind of idiot are you?

"Okay, Newt. You know how this works. We take turns. As I finished last time, it's your turn to start. Go."

I smile. This is all a game to Teresa. One that keeps her sane. I think we all need something like that to survive in here.

I take my turn.

"I was thirteen when I heard my first voice."

"Oh come on, Newt. I already knew that."

"I'm pretty sure you already know everything."

"True. Okay, let me think. I first saw my dad hit my mom when I was seven."

She laughs.

Laughing? I guess that's just what that sort of stuff does to you. I guess that's just what this place does to you.

"I haven't heard my voices in five days."

"I haven't had a malicious thought in three."

"I'm only friends with Gally because I think he's secretly a dragon."

"I'm only friends with you because I think you're part alien and I'm a die-hard sci-fi fan."

Each fact becomes more fictitious than the last, our conversation turning into a competition as we try to out-fantasise the other. It's a favourite game of ours, a personal thing that it is one of the few things no-one can take from us in here. It's part of our identity.

Only a small part, but it makes a difference.

Maybe the only thing that might make a difference to my sanity. The only thing that makes me feel sane.

I pause as I think about something. It's only since Thomas has arrived that I started sleeping properly again.

That I stopped hearing voices.

That I actually began to feel like me.

But I don't want to be me. Or is the prospect of feeling like myself again so bloody wonderful, that it's scary? Daunting? Terrifying?

Do I have a phobia of the voices in my head? Or is it just a phobia of myself?

Maybe the game with Teresa isn't the only thing that makes me feel sane. Maybe Thomas does too.

Thomas.

Tommy.

I stand up suddenly, startling Teresa.

"Newt, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I know what I want to do today."

She stands, joining me as that sly smile reaches her lips.

"What?"

I turn to look at her. She's one of the only ones besides myself who doesn't have someone on a day like today.

"Teresa. We're going to go to visitor day."

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I updated!

I'm so sorry it's taken so long but I've been up to my eyeballs in work!

Thank you for all your lovely comment and votes!

I've also started up a few tumblr blogs, so I'm just gonna list them here:

@traekenimagines - this is for Theo Raeken Imagines because why not?

@whatthehellisastilesimagine - this is for Stiles Stilinski Imagines, and they are also on here, because who doesn't love Stiles

Also, I bought The Fever Code yesterday, but can't start reading it yet because I need to finish my other book!

Love you all,

LJ xx