BVB crossover. Davey is taking a break from touring, so he decides to put his psychology degree to good use, and who should he run into but Ashley Purdy?
How long have I been in here? I don't even know anymore. There's nothing to really look at, and no clocks. It's so quiet too, and the only smell is disinfectant... This must be sensory deprivation... There's just 4 white walls, with white floors and a white ceciling. The sheets on this hospital bed are white, too, just like the gowns they make me wear. Even the bathroom, everything's white. I'm itching for any color at all, even bright yellow.
The polish is mostly flaked away from my nails, taking the last of the color in this room with it. Funnily enough, most of that wasn't really even color... I mean, can you really consider black a color? I mean, I have never seen a colorful zebra, have you? Now that I remember it, doing that pattern took me forever.
They keep me tied to the bed here. It's not like I'm going to try to kill myself or anything. I don't even have anything to try with. They come in, I'm guessing 3 times a day, and force me to eat. They tell me that if I don't eat like a 'normal' person, then they'll have to use needles. They're none too gentle with those things, lemme tell you. At least, I assume its 3 times a day. I wouldn't be able to tell if it were night or day, considering this room has no windows. Not that I'd care, being stuck in here.
I just want to get out of here. I want them to stop forcing those pills down my throat too. They make me so sick, so tired, but so hyped. You know what it's like when you're dead tired, but you can't fall asleep? I feel like that every day of my life, for the past I don't know how long, however long its been since they've locked me here.
If I stay in here any longer, I'll go insane. Well, more insane. Is that even possible?
Great, now my fucking wrists are starting to hurt. Again. even if I tell them that I'm in pain, they won't do a single fucking thing to help. If I'm lucky, they'll tell me that there's nothing that they can do, or maybe if I'm a really lucky bastard, then they'll tell me that they'll ask the doctor. But I know that I won't get anything that'll actually help me, because it isn't part of my 'plan'. This plan is some shit the doctors have come up with in here...Without my knowing what it is, of course.
Oh, I never did tell you what happens if I'm unlucky, did I? I get yelled at, and told that it's my fault, I shouldn't have done it, all things I already know. Or maybe even, "Isn't that what I wanted?"
Isn't it obvious by now that I just want to get out of here? But this hospital has the stupidest fucking policy of life that says that if I want to get out of here within the next 6 months, someone has to be willing to take responsibility for me. But the thing is, there's no one. My family doesn't give a shit about me. After the hell they put me through, the moment I turned 18, I told them "fuck you!" and walked out. They fucking deserved it, anyways.
I haven't seen them since then. But it doesn't stop them from constantly calling and emailing and shit, forever trying to bring me down. Can't they tell that I just want them to go the fuck away already? I don't want anything else to do with them, ever.
Before, I would've wondered whether Andy or Sandra would be willing to take me. But I know they won't. Neither will Jake, and even ol' Smellybones, my last resort, won't. I wonder what happened to my dogs. I hope they haven't been kicked onto the street, or thrown to the pound. I'd fucking die if that happened. They're like my kids...
I wonder how these cuts are healing? Stupid fucker of a doctor told me that I can be treated "normally" after they heal... Normally meaning that I don't have to be tied down to the bed and watched while showering... I haven't seen them in over a week, and it's not like I can just take the bandages off now to see them, now can I? Last time I saw them, they definitely weren't looking good.
I remember the guys (Sandra included) said that if anything like this happened again, they weren't going to be saving my ass again, because I should've learned my lesson. I wasn't like I didn't try... I did....I really did... But they've probably already found my replacement.
Ashley was torn from his thoughts as he heard the door opening. Great, probably more fucking pills Instead, the restraints holding him to the bed were undone. Before he had a moment of relief, however, he was promptly placed into a straitjacket. The two orderlies who had come in were then shoving him out the door, leading him up one hallway and down another, through doorways, moving him so fast that he almost stumbled several times, not having him arms free to balance himself.
Soon enough, he was in a doctors office. The chair was turned away from him, and he couldn't see who he was dealing with. He hoped it wasn't the same asshole doctor he'd had to deal with the last time. He was shoved into a chair by one of the orderlies, while the other one said, "He's here, sir."
"Thanks, now go." The voice said, sounding mildly distracted. Even so, it sounded familiar to Ashley. It couldn't be who he thought it was, could it? The orderlies quickly left, shutting the door behind them. Then, the chair turned, confirming the bassists suspicions-and fears. His eyes flew wide open in shock, and even though he hadn't used his voice in a while, he whispered, "Davey?"
"The one and only." Well, this was fucking embarassing!