SEVENTEEN

You were a normal 16-year-old girl, everything was fine, until one moment... You've been hanging out in the nuthouse for four months now. The doctors are good, and the conditions weren't bad either. Daily IVs with tranquilizers, pills and a bunch of medications, with visits to a psychologist. For four months, you've been "drowning" in this swamp, because you're... just lonely. All the kids your age and younger simply go crazy after two months here: every day you hear screams, yells... You see crazy kids rolling on the floor, being injected with tranquilizers to calm them down.

You were also injected with tranquilizers, and you got a certain thrill from them. You became like a sponge, but at least this way you didn't remember what prompted you to come here: five months ago, there was a terrorist attack at your school. Terrorists, gunfire, corpses. It was deeply imprinted on the convolutions of your brain. It was incredibly sickening, remembering that you could have simply died.

One day, 20 medical students came to your hospital: six girls aged 17-18 and 13 boys aged 17-19. They were there for an internship at a psychiatric hospital. But they didn't remember you in the best light: they saw you screaming, sickened by the tranquilizers. But that's treatment. You want to be cured, right?