Violins and the sound of a piano filled my ears, the crescendo matching my heartbeat. I realized I was standing among a crowd of people in fancy clothes and dresses in a ballroom fit for a King. The women had curls piled on top of their heads and draped around their shoulders, while the men had neatly kept hair and fancy suits with pea coats.

Looking around, a man and a woman sitting on thrones behind the feast caught my eye.

The man sported a crown on top of his shaved head. He had an icy stare as he peered at his subjects, but when he glanced over at the woman next to him, it was as if the ice in his eyes melted. She too wore a crown on top of her curly, brown hair. His hand lightly touched her tawny skin, and he shared a small smile with her before looking back at the people dancing. The woman's attention also turned to the crowd and she locked her eyes with mine. They were blue like the boy I see in my visions, but instead of happiness and love, hers held a different emotion that I couldn't decipher.

Her gaze left mine as a slower, elegant song played. Upon something touching my shoulder, I turned around to meet those aqua-colored eyes I see in my dreams. He looked over my shoulder at the sad woman, giving her a meaningful glance before he set his sights back on me. As he dipped into a bow, his bright eyes never left mine. A small smirk played on his lips before he dragged me to the dance floor. A laugh escaped me as I was spun around and pulled back into his arms. The embrace was electric and like nothing I had ever felt before. When our eyes met again, it looked like he was about to speak, but everything began to fade out before words left his lips.

Light blinded me as my eyes adjusted to my surroundings. Everything began to sharpen the more I blinked. When my vision cleared, I staring up at the white, rectangular tiles on the ceiling. I tried to move my arms to rub my eyes, but they were strapped down, along with my feet. When I went to call out, my throat tickled and an unpleasant, dry feeling wouldn't go away; I must have been out for while.

I ran my tongue along my chapped lips and attempted to move my fingers. My hand he was holding in my vision tingled as if his fingers were still entwined with mine.

A clicking sound, followed by the door opening behind me stole my attention from my hand.

I already knew who it was before she spoke, "I see you're finally awake."

I didn't look at her. Instead, I forced my head under the strap to look the opposite direction, rubbing the leather against my forehead. This annoyed the nurse, prompting her to grab my jaw to force me to look at her.

"Don't be like this Claire. We are trying to help you," she scolded, bringing her face close to mine before letting go. "Well, if you're not going to talk to me, then you have to talk to Dr. Carson."

The blonde nurse removed the straps and forced me onto my feet by squeezing my arm. She made me walk in front of her on the way to the doctor's office, pushing me whenever I slowed to a pace she disliked. We continued on like this until we reached a door. After knocking a couple times, the nurse ushered me into the large office and sat me down on the chair across from Dr. Carson's.

"Thank you, Elise. I'll call you when I need you," Dr. Carson addressed her with a formal tone.

With a nod, the nurse left me with the doctor. After all these years, I still haven't gotten used to his office. It is always cold, dark, and too quiet. I feel like someone is watching me even though there is only one small window behind his desk. You would think that his office would represent the hospital stereotype of looking bright, clean, and sterile. Instead, the office had dark-green walls with ebony, wood flooring, giving off an dark vibe.

"What are you thinking about, Claire?" Dr. Carson interrupted my thoughts.

"Nothing," I simply replied. I shifted in my chair so I could look anywhere else but at him.

"I heard about your episode today. I also was informed that they have been happening more frequently," he stated.

I took a deep breath. "Mhmm." I ground my jaw as he wrote something down.

"Are you not taking the medication you are given?" He asked like he always does. That nurse probably told him I wasn't.

"I am taking your medication. It just doesn't work," I gritted in frustration. "I told you that no matter what you give me, it doesn't stop anything from happening."

The doctor gave me a look that said that he didn't believe me. "This is serious, Claire. I know you believe that medication doesn't help, but it will if you just take it. You don't have to lie to me. This is a safe place to tell me things, remember?" He leaned forward and took his glasses off.

Yeah right. Tell that to Nurse Ratched.

I began tapping my foot, getting more irritated.

"What we do here for you is for your own safety and the safety of others. You are here because the state has declared you unfit to live amongst society. You have to take your medication. Elise informed me that you have had cuts and bruises on you too. You are being self-destructive," he accused, still looking at me. "Claire, self-harm is a serious matter..."

I finally snapped, "I heard you the last two times, and I already told you that I am taking the damn medication! I'm not doing anything to myself. I'm telling you that it is from the dreams."

"Claire." He sighed. "We have been over this. When you finally come to realize, we will be able to fully help you. They are just flashbacks from your PTSD. Nothing more. They cannot harm you. If you keep this up, we are going to have to find another type of therapy to help you."

"Help me?!" I yelled, getting to my feet. "Is stabbing me with needles to put me to sleep when I have done nothing wrong supposed to be helping me?"

Dr. Carson stood up, meeting my eyes. Mine held fury, but his brown ones held nothing, almost like a shark.

"This is why you are sedated so much. You have outbursts such as this. Now, sit down so you can calm down." He reached over and touched my shoulder.

I flinched at his touch and sat down to get away from him. Something has always creeped me out about him. I'm not sure if it's the way he combs his brown hair to the side or his empty eyes, but whatever it was made me want to run far away.

"Good." His lips twitched before sitting back down, crossing one leg over his knee. "Now, tell me about the episode you had today."

When I first got here, I would tell the doctor everything. I truly thought something was wrong with me, and I was drowning in grief. I thought I trusted him, but then I realized that he would use what I would say against me. It took me awhile to find that he didn't care about helping me. I may be "crazy", but I'm not stupid. My mom used to warn me about people like Dr. Carson. He seemed to care about his patients on the surface, but deep down he was indifferent, most likely in this field for the money.

I used to tell him things, confidential things, and later the nurse would use those conversations as a weapon to control me. I would hear whispers in the common room about old methods being used by him on some of the patients. This man was not a good man. He was taking advantage of the mentally ill.

"It was just about me waking up in the car upside down," I finally answered after being quiet for a few moments.

"Just the car accident? No boy, or castle, or anything else?" Dr. Carson asked, skeptical. His eyebrow lifted slightly. He was suspicious.

I rolled my eyes. "Nope. Just waking up to my entire family being dead."

I locked my eyes with his, making sure I had no expression on my face that could give my lie away. We stayed that way for what felt like forever.

"Well, I guess that's progress then." He gave me a look before writing something down. "At least you are seeing reality."

I chewed on my bottom lip while crossing my legs up onto the chair so I could lean back into it. Hopefully, he would let me go back to my room.

"We still need to discuss the marks you are giving yourself though."

And with that, my hopes are crushed.

"I told you that I am not self-harming. I'm not sure how they get there," I murmured and avoided his eyes.

He flipped his notepad up and glanced at it before answering, "How would you explain the cut on your chest that the nurse found yesterday. That just doesn't happen out of thin air. It needed stitches, Claire. If you don't come clean now, that's fine, but you are going to have to be on suicide watch until you do. We just want to help you get better."

We just want to help you get better.

That's what he always says, but I don't believe him.

"Then so be it," I whispered, defeated.

No matter what I say to him, it won't matter. It won't save me. I was trapped here in my own personal hell, which was fitting since my family was gone.

"Very well," he responded with no emotion. "I don't see getting through to you today."

Dr. Carson pressed a button on his pager, then wrote down something else before walking to his desk and sitting in his leather chair. Seconds later, the blonde nurse came in to whisk me away to my room. The walk back was just as pleasant as the walk to Dr. Carson's office. This time she didn't say a word to me though. As we approached my room, I noticed one of the male nurses sitting in a chair outside of my door. He must be the watcher tonight.

Just as I thought I was free when I stepped through the door, the nurse pushed me towards my bed.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

"On doctor's orders you are put on suicide watch, which means you lost the freedom to wander around your room," she answered, icily.

My heart raced at the idea of being confined. They were going to strap me to my bed again.

"It would all be easier if you just let us help you."