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Danny was on his fourth hour of a Britain's Got Talent marathon, and wondering just how long before the urge to die would return with a vengeance. He was still tied down, the staff not trusting him for a second when he said he wasn't going to try to kill himself again. At least he could still work the telly since the remote was within reach, right beside the call button.
When a woman he didn't recognise entered the room, Danny glanced over at her and he muted the television. "Uhm...hi?" he asked, squirming a little in the bed. God, he hated being tied down when just anyone could walk into his room and do anything they wanted to him.
"Hello, Daniel," the woman said, offering him a bright smile. She looked pretty official, her dark hair up in a tight bun and a leather briefcase in her hands. "My name is Abby Littleton, I'm Thomas' sister? I'm also a consultant psychiatrist."
"Oh-" Danny tried to sit up a little, but it was fairly pointless. Instead he gave her a thin smile and cleared his throat. "Okay. U-uhm...hello."
"Is it okay if I sit down?" Abby asked, and when he nodded she pulled one of the plastic chairs over close to his bed so she could park herself in it. "The hospital asked me to come have a chat with you, and I thought it would be a good idea to check in with you anyway, considering there are very few people who can understand the supernatural elements of what you went through."
Danny didn't really know how to respond to that, so he just nodded. "I'm going to undo your restraints, but if I do so and you remove that feeding tube, they'll be going right back on," she warned him. "You understand?" After another nod, Abby stood and released his arms and legs. He winced as he pulled himself up in the bed, and then he flexed his muscles a little. They were sore and stiff, but being able to move was so nice.
"Thank you," he said softly. "Are you going to put them back on when you leave?" He honestly thought he might cry if she did that.
"No, Danny, if I say you'll be okay without them, they'll listen. As long as you don't do anything to make them need to restrain you again. How are you feeling today? Physically, I mean."
"Sore," he said with a groan. "Sore and tired and bored. I can't do anything beyond sleep and watch the damn telly. Not until I heal up a little."
"What do you want to do then?" Abby asked, and Daniel didn't know how to answer that directly.
"I-I know what I need to do," he said, fiddling with the blanket as he spoke. "I need to get treatment for PTSD and depression and I want to do so as an inpatient. I need to go private though, because I- I can't be in a room with anyone else. That's- It'll make things worse."
As he spoke, Abby was nodding along, so he paused to see if she had something to add. "I can look into institutions for you and bring you a few options. You can decide on the one which you think will be the best fit. So you're dedicated to getting through this?"
He chewed on his lip for a moment before answering, "yeah. Not- I mean, it's not for me yet, it's for my mum. But I guess I'll get there maybe eventually." It was too difficult to be more sure than that. "When can I get this thing out of my nose?" he asked, pointing to the feeding tube.
"Your doctor informed me that you were eating for a few days and then you just stopped. By the time they put the tube in, you'd had practically nothing for over a week. Restricting food intake can be a form of self harm. Do you think that might sound right?"
Daniel let out a breath and then he rubbed his eye tiredly, "probably," he admitted.
"And now that you're recovering from heart surgery, you can't risk not getting proper nutrition. You need to keep your strength up. What I can do is talk to your doctor and discuss phasing it out. If you eat properly they won't have to use it and if it isn't used for a while, they will remove it. Sound good?"
It didn't sound great, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel. He had lost a lot of trust when he tried to die and now he had to earn it all back again, slowly. That wasn't easy for someone who didn't really even want to be here. "Yeah, I can try. It just...it's not very comfortable. So...so you're a psychiatrist and know about uhm...about incubi?" Abby nodded and Danny swallowed roughly. "And do you know my friend Zoe?"
"I do know Zoe. I have to admit we haven't spent all that much time together, but her uncle and my brother are best friends and I've known her mother since I was about...oh...eighteen? I've spent some time with Zoe. She's amazing. Why?"
"Because I think- Because if Zoe trusts someone, then usually I know I can." Zoe didn't trust that many people at all and he did intend to ask Zoe about Abby after she was gone. "And I know inpatient treatment includes a lot of group therapy, but do...do you think maybe I could talk to you too? I mean about the things I can't talk about in group?"
"Of course you can, Danny. I can arrange with the treatment centre to see you however often you want. I will have to report to them, but obviously I can leave certain things out of the official notes."
"I think that would be good," he said quietly. "Do-do you maybe have some time now?" She seemed so nice and willing to listen and smart and official and something about her made him want to spill everything. She seemed like someone he could talk to who wouldn't break from hearing it. That was the important part, because as much as he appreciated his mother and his friends listening to him, he feared how they would handle it. "Uhm. Just...some of the stuff is pretty fucked up-"
Abby leaned forward and she offered him a gentle smile he wanted to trust so badly, "I know, Danny. You can tell me anything, okay? I can handle it. It won't and legally can't go any farther than me unless I think you are going to hurt yourself again."
"Okay," Danny said softly, and then he managed a smile even if it was small. "Okay, if you can handle it I can. Thank you. For listening." And then he settled in to talk.
When a woman he didn't recognise entered the room, Danny glanced over at her and he muted the television. "Uhm...hi?" he asked, squirming a little in the bed. God, he hated being tied down when just anyone could walk into his room and do anything they wanted to him.
"Hello, Daniel," the woman said, offering him a bright smile. She looked pretty official, her dark hair up in a tight bun and a leather briefcase in her hands. "My name is Abby Littleton, I'm Thomas' sister? I'm also a consultant psychiatrist."
"Oh-" Danny tried to sit up a little, but it was fairly pointless. Instead he gave her a thin smile and cleared his throat. "Okay. U-uhm...hello."
"Is it okay if I sit down?" Abby asked, and when he nodded she pulled one of the plastic chairs over close to his bed so she could park herself in it. "The hospital asked me to come have a chat with you, and I thought it would be a good idea to check in with you anyway, considering there are very few people who can understand the supernatural elements of what you went through."
Danny didn't really know how to respond to that, so he just nodded. "I'm going to undo your restraints, but if I do so and you remove that feeding tube, they'll be going right back on," she warned him. "You understand?" After another nod, Abby stood and released his arms and legs. He winced as he pulled himself up in the bed, and then he flexed his muscles a little. They were sore and stiff, but being able to move was so nice.
"Thank you," he said softly. "Are you going to put them back on when you leave?" He honestly thought he might cry if she did that.
"No, Danny, if I say you'll be okay without them, they'll listen. As long as you don't do anything to make them need to restrain you again. How are you feeling today? Physically, I mean."
"Sore," he said with a groan. "Sore and tired and bored. I can't do anything beyond sleep and watch the damn telly. Not until I heal up a little."
"What do you want to do then?" Abby asked, and Daniel didn't know how to answer that directly.
"I-I know what I need to do," he said, fiddling with the blanket as he spoke. "I need to get treatment for PTSD and depression and I want to do so as an inpatient. I need to go private though, because I- I can't be in a room with anyone else. That's- It'll make things worse."
As he spoke, Abby was nodding along, so he paused to see if she had something to add. "I can look into institutions for you and bring you a few options. You can decide on the one which you think will be the best fit. So you're dedicated to getting through this?"
He chewed on his lip for a moment before answering, "yeah. Not- I mean, it's not for me yet, it's for my mum. But I guess I'll get there maybe eventually." It was too difficult to be more sure than that. "When can I get this thing out of my nose?" he asked, pointing to the feeding tube.
"Your doctor informed me that you were eating for a few days and then you just stopped. By the time they put the tube in, you'd had practically nothing for over a week. Restricting food intake can be a form of self harm. Do you think that might sound right?"
Daniel let out a breath and then he rubbed his eye tiredly, "probably," he admitted.
"And now that you're recovering from heart surgery, you can't risk not getting proper nutrition. You need to keep your strength up. What I can do is talk to your doctor and discuss phasing it out. If you eat properly they won't have to use it and if it isn't used for a while, they will remove it. Sound good?"
It didn't sound great, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel. He had lost a lot of trust when he tried to die and now he had to earn it all back again, slowly. That wasn't easy for someone who didn't really even want to be here. "Yeah, I can try. It just...it's not very comfortable. So...so you're a psychiatrist and know about uhm...about incubi?" Abby nodded and Danny swallowed roughly. "And do you know my friend Zoe?"
"I do know Zoe. I have to admit we haven't spent all that much time together, but her uncle and my brother are best friends and I've known her mother since I was about...oh...eighteen? I've spent some time with Zoe. She's amazing. Why?"
"Because I think- Because if Zoe trusts someone, then usually I know I can." Zoe didn't trust that many people at all and he did intend to ask Zoe about Abby after she was gone. "And I know inpatient treatment includes a lot of group therapy, but do...do you think maybe I could talk to you too? I mean about the things I can't talk about in group?"
"Of course you can, Danny. I can arrange with the treatment centre to see you however often you want. I will have to report to them, but obviously I can leave certain things out of the official notes."
"I think that would be good," he said quietly. "Do-do you maybe have some time now?" She seemed so nice and willing to listen and smart and official and something about her made him want to spill everything. She seemed like someone he could talk to who wouldn't break from hearing it. That was the important part, because as much as he appreciated his mother and his friends listening to him, he feared how they would handle it. "Uhm. Just...some of the stuff is pretty fucked up-"
Abby leaned forward and she offered him a gentle smile he wanted to trust so badly, "I know, Danny. You can tell me anything, okay? I can handle it. It won't and legally can't go any farther than me unless I think you are going to hurt yourself again."
"Okay," Danny said softly, and then he managed a smile even if it was small. "Okay, if you can handle it I can. Thank you. For listening." And then he settled in to talk.
