Miranda watched as the doctors walked through the hallways with the new boy.
She looked with general curiosity and scanned him as they led him to his room that was down the hall from hers. His skin was pale and a large wade of cotton had been taped to his left wrist. It was obvious that he was in the psychiatric hospital due to self harm, but something else seemed funny about him as he looked around at everything with a dull look in his eyes. The two made eye contact for a second before he was put into his room and the door shut behind him. The doctors gave her raised eyebrows as they noticed her watching from around the corner of her doorway. “Isn’t it time for you to be getting to sleep, Miranda?”
She nodded her head, and shut the door to her room. As she closed it and rested her back against the wood, she sighed to herself. “Looks like another person has joined the party. I’m sure I’ll be seeing him either crying praying at breakfast tomorrow. Sounds like fun.”
You’re awful. Spying on somebody like that? You should be ashamed of yourself.
Miranda looked across the room where she saw a figure sitting on the edge of the bed. “Oh, Blaze. I didn’t see you there.”
The figure looked just like Miranda; without the detail. The demon was pure white, with hints of darker energy that made her look like the static on an empty television station. Her body was nothing but energy and voltage, and she looked like a lightning bolt that had been stenciled in to shape a person. Her eyes were a cool blue that peered over at the girl judgingly. Everytime Miranda had ever tried to explain what Blaze looked like, everyone just laughed at her or called her crazy. They didn’t believe her when she told them a figure lived in her head and gave her awful advice. Most of it only made her constant anxiety worse. Deadly, even.
Of course you didn’t. The figure muttered, in a very sassy voice. You’re always too busy judging others, apparently.
“It’s not like that.” Miranda told the demon, as she went over and sat on the bed beside her. “I was just curious is all. He’s different from the other people I’ve seen here so far.”
A jeweled knife is still dangerous. Blaze warned. Don’t talk to him. Don’t look at him. Don’t think about him. Boy’s are dangerous and will cause you nothing but harm and bad thoughts.
“You’re a bad thought.” Miranda warned her.
Blaze stayed silent.
Miranda looked down at her cotton pants and shirt the hospital had given her to wear for the next few weeks. She had been sentenced to one month of therapy and group activities after her latest...attempt. Her parents weren’t too proud of her at the moment and forbid her from returning home until she felt better. Until things finally changed.
They never did understand her anxiety, or how bad her mental illness had gotten over the years. She scratched at her thighs, where the itching had gotten worse.
You needed to do it, Love. Blaze told Miranda, in a suddenly sweet and sickly voice. It was the only way to gain control during your anxiety attack. I’m very proud of you for it. Next time, let’s try to make it even bigger, okay?
Miranda felt tears bead her eyes and she shot up from the bed and walked over to a mirror that hung on the wall above a small dresser she had stored some of her belongings from home inside. In the mirror, a girl with long blonde hair and purple highlights looked back at her. She constantly changed her hair color depending on her mood. Most of the time she kept it something vibrant and exciting in an attempt to take the attention away from her naturally stressed personality.
She also had three tattoos on her arms, and planned to get many more throughout her life. On her upper right bicep sat a moon over a waterfall, while an elephant’s head was on the underside of that arm. On the underside of her left arm was a pair of ornate and decorated scissors that gleamed with black, detailed ink. She loved her tattoos, and was an enormous fan of art of all kinds. It was her dream to die as a living piece of art, and believed that humans should try harder in general to decorate themselves like she did. It made you special. Unique.
A feeling of pleasure filled her as she thought about her tattoos, but it quickly faded away as she looked at her face in the mirror.
Her face was round and swollen from the crying, and her gray eyes were tinged with red. “I look awful.”
It’s the price that comes with success, Love. Blaze told her from the bed.
“I suppose I better take a look at it.” Miranda told herself, as she started to pull down her pants. She pushed them past her knees and looked down at her thighs. At the tops of both were layers upon layers of scars that criss crossed like a quilt of red lines. Fresh lines on the very bottom were darker than the others, and they appeared irritated but not infected. Miranda wiped more tears from her face, as she pulled up her pants. Her parents had sent her away again when they learned of the most recent act of self harm. It had been another visit to another psych hospital. Another place for her to feel crazy. Another place to talk about Blaze.
“I wish you would just disappear.” Miranda said, as she looked at Blaze in the reflection of the mirror.
I’m stuck with you for life. Blaze told her, as the vision gleamed a large smile. You better get some sleep, Love. Another long day waits for you in the morning.
Miranda cried herself to sleep that night as Blaze’s grip tightened around her body. The static wrapped around her like a rope that squeeze every ounce of happiness out. As her sadness guided her into a fitful sleep of nightmares, Blaze watched over the girl with an evil grin until finally fading away into the night.

Later the next day, Miranda sat across a large oak desk in front of her therapist, Dr. Monet.
Dr. Monet was a very thin indian woman with long black hair that curled around her slender frame like a delicate waterfall. Her eyes were large and brown and scanned Miranda curiously as she sat in Monet’s office. The two were both completely silent, and Miranda took the awkward moment to take in all of the plaques and letters of congratulations on Monet’s walls. She was a very decorated psychiatrist, and all of her bookshelves were also filled with books she had helped write and publish over the years dedicated to the human mind. Most of her studies were based around young adults, which made people like Miranda the perfect target for Dr. Monet to prod and poke at anytime she wanted something to entertain herself with.
Today, Miranda had given her quite a bit to think about.
“So...you want to legally file an abandonment form?” Monet asked, breaking the awkward silence. She gave Miranda a curious look that was crossed with hints of confusion. “You realize that those forms aren’t exactly used regularly. They’re a last resort clause.”
“I’m very aware.” Miranda told her. “From what I know, if I ask for that form, I’m legally allowed to file to have myself sent away for permanent isolation, correct? I could live in some psych ward for the rest of my life in absolute peace and quiet?”
“Yes…” Dr. Monet muttered. “You aren’t technically wrong. But why would you want to do that to yourself? You’re so young, Miranda. Why would you want to file yourself away for a lifetime of isolation? We use those forms for people in serious harm to themselves or others. Not young women in need of a break?”
Miranda sighed. She knew the doctor wouldn’t understand.
What a nuisance. Blaze muttered, as she leaned over the side of Miranda’s chair. She just doesn’t get it. Doesn’t she know that you just want to be left alone? You don’t need anyone but me.
“They can’t see you, Blaze.” Miranda muttered. “Stop being so sassy so early in the morning. It’s annoying.”
“What was that?” Dr. Monet asked.
“Nothing.” Miranda quickly replied, realizing that she was speaking out loud in front of another person. No matter how many times she tried, Dr. Monet couldn’t and wouldn’t ever understand the presence of Blaze, and she wasn’t going to waste her energy explaining herself. “Look, I just want to be left alone. Can you do that or not?”
“I can.” Dr. Monet told her. “However, I refuse to sign any paperwork right away. I’m giving you another 90 days to figure out your plans. This is too rash.”
“Rash?” Miranda asked, getting slightly frustrated. “I just want to be left alone. I’ve been through too many psych hospitals. I have too many scars. Too many breakdowns. Can’t you just let me live alone in a hospital with my thoughts?”
Dr. Monet went silent again, but it didn’t last long as a knock on the door interrupted their conversation. “Dr. Monet?” A voice asked.
“Come in.” She told them, as she pinched the bridge of her nose and lowered her glasses.
Miranda looked over as a young man walked into the office. It was the same boy from last night with the damaged wrist. His brown hair was tousled and his face looked tired and pale. She could tell that he didn’t get much sleep last night, and even the cotton hospital wear he was given was wrinkled and ragged from constant laying around. He blushed when he saw her, but quickly averted his gaze. “You wanted to see me, Dr. Monet?”
“Have a seat.” She muttered, as she pointed to the empty chair that sat beside Miranda.
This is stupid. Dark muttered in Shawn’s ear, as he took a seat in the empty chair. We could’ve been sleeping right now. Why did that annoying nurse have to go and wake us up?
Shawn ignored him as well as the girl in the room. He snuck another peak at her from the corner of his eye and was surprised at how beautiful she was. He first noticed the tattoos on her arms, and then to the colored streaks in her hair. She gave him a nervous glance, and he could tell that he was unwanted in the area, and hoped that Dr. Monet was going to make it quick with whatever she needed from him. As he sat and silently stared at her, she clasped her hands together and gestured from Shawn to Miranda.
“You two kids meet yet? Probably not. Shawn here just came in last night for his fiftieth or so visit. He’s a frequent flyer, Miranda. Just like you.”
“Nice to meet you, I guess.” Shawn muttered to her.
Miranda ignored him. “Weren’t we in the middle of something, Dr. Monet?”
“We were. We still are.” She explained. “You see, you and Shawn have more in common than just being frequent flyers of our psych hospital. I can’t go into details as to why each other is here, as that breaks too many codes. Having you both here during a session is enough stress alone to mess up my career. However, I believe you both have issues that you can benefit off each other for.”
“Benefit?” Shawn asked. “Look, I just want to go back to sleep. Let me just wait out my two weeks so I can fill out my paperwork and go home. I have preparations to make before I-”
“Before you try to kill yourself again?” Dr. Monet asked, interrupting him.
Smart ass. Dark muttered bitterly, as he hovered beside Shawn. Who does she think she is anyway?
Miranda gave him a curious look.
The suicidal type, huh? Blaze muttered. Looks like you were right on the money, Love. He’s a lost cause after all.
“The form I asked for is entirely legal.” Shawn told Dr. Monet through grit teeth. His eyes narrowed and his hands visibly tightened around the arms of his chair. “Please, just let me have that paper signed so I can go home and make my last preparations.”
“A paper?” Miranda asked, adding herself to their conversation.
Shawn looked at her in curious surprise.
“What paper?” She asked, this time glancing at him timidly. It was rough for her to make eye contact and she had to settle with looking at his chin.
Still can’t look men in the eyes, huh? Blaze crooned in her ear. You’re an awfully pathetic girl, aren’t you.
“A suicide contract.” Dr. Monet muttered, not taking her eyes off Shawn. “Much like you, Miranda, Shawn wishes to sign his life away with the ink of my pen. Isn’t it an ironic world we live in?”
“What’s a suicide contract?” Miranda asked.
“Doesn’t all of this break your codes or whatever?” Shawn asked.
Yeah. Codes. Dark muttered.
The kid has a point. Blaze remarked.
“I brought you both here to tell you the same thing.” Dr. Monet explained. “A suicide contract is meant for people who have tried too many times to take their life. Lost causes. Lost souls are what we call them in the business. Shawn here has tried too many times and has been unsuccessful each and every time. Therefore, he legally has an option he’s allowed to take. Despite how much I beg of him to reconsider.”
Miranda looked at him curiously. “What’s the option? What does a suicide contract do exactly?”
“Legally lets you die.” Shawn explained, as he looked over to her. “The doctor here will sign a paper that will basically get me sentenced to an electric chair. Or lethal injection. Whatever gets the job done, I guess. According to my medical records, I’m legally and mentally too unfit to operate in society, and am allowed this option due to a small loophole in the laws.”
“What?” Miranda asked in surprise. “That’s crazy. Not to mention inhumane!”
Shawn shrugged. “My life. My choice.”
Miranda opened her mouth to argue with him but Dr. Monet put a hand up to interfere. “Miranda, I didn’t bring you here to object. After all, you’re in no better position than he is. You wish to sign a self isolation form, after all.”
“I know what that does.” Shawn said. “It means they send you away to a looney bin in the middle of nowhere. You’re stuck in an empty padded cell forever and nobody is allowed to bother you. Why would anybody willingly do that?”
Miranda’s face flushed three different shades of red. “You’re one to talk!”
You tell him! Blaze yelled. Give that punk the manners he wasn’t taught.
Stupid girl. Dark said in Shawn’s ear. What does she know about your issues?
“You both have a lot to learn from each other.” Dr. Monet noted. “That’s why I am officially placing the both of you on mandatory intertwined therapy.”
“What?” Both of them asked at the same time.
What! Dark and Blaze both yelled at the same time.
“Shawn, you believe that death is the only way to escape your depression.” Dr. Monet told him. “Miranda. You think that hiding away in a room is going to get rid of your anxiety. You both have similar issues. Inner demons that need treated. That is why I’m putting you on joint therapy.”
“Is that even allowed?” Shawn asked, as his face fumed with anger and surprise. “All I wanted was my paper. I don’t need anymore therapy. Therapy doesn’t work!”
“For once, I agree with him.” Miranda muttered, as they both stood up from their chairs. “I don’t want to talk to somebody about my problems anymore. Just leave me alone already!”
Dr. Monet crossed her arms and looked at the two young adults until they calmed down. “We have had lots of success with the joint therapy sessions. Your families both also completely agree with the circumstances. We’ve already contacted your loved ones and got their permission for this endeavor.”
“You called my mom?” Shawn asked, as Dark began to grow larger and larger beside him.
She’s the absolute worst. Dark said in his ear, obviously very disgruntled.
“They all care about you both.” Dr. Monet continued. “None of us want to sign the paperwork. Legally, I am allowed to wait the 90 days. After that, you are both free to make your own...decisions.”
“That’s stupid.” Miranda told her. “I’ve wanted that paper for a long time. I’m a legal adult. I don’t want to wait for it?”
“Rules are rules.” Dr. Monet told her. Her face softened as she looked at the obviously upset duo. “You both have a lot of things to experience in this world, and you’re both still so very young. It breaks my heart that you want to throw your lives away. I’m afraid that I’m not bending until your time periods are up. I pray that your minds will be changed in three months.”
Shawn growled.
Miranda huffed.
“I’m glad we all see eye to eye.” She muttered, as she started handing them each folders. “I’ve taken the liberty of ending your visits. Neither one of you have had any success with our hospital before, and I don’t believe you’ll start having any either. Instead, I will be leading your joint therapy sessions twice a week for the next 3 months. Your families, job locations, and loved ones have all been told of your situation. You both will be handled extremely delicately for the next three months. Is that clear?”
“This is stupid.” Shawn told her.
“Very.” Miranda added.
“Great!” The doctor said, as she clapped her hands together. “You two seem to both want to be alone in the end, yet I believe you both can learn a lot from each other.”
“Is this up for negotiation?” Shawn asked.
“Nope.” Dr. Monet told them. “Now go get your bags packed. I have rides that will be sending you both home in several hours.”
She quickly shoved them both out of the door and slammed it behind them. As they looked at each other in curious wonder, Shawn was the first person to speak. “So...your name is Miranda?”
“Don’t talk to me.” She told him rudely, as she started walking down the opposite end of the bleach white hallway. “I hate men. I also think suicide is the most selfish thing you can possibly do. This experiment of hers is hopeless, but It looks like I’m stuck with it for now. Don’t talk to me and we will get along perfectly fine.”
She’s a piece of work. Dark muttered, as the two of them watched Miranda stomp away.
“Something’s definitely different about that girl.” Shawn agreed. “I wonder what her story is.”
Who cares. Dark said. We have bigger things to worry about. Do you think you could sneak into the kitchen and grab a steak knife? Maybe you could try slitting your wrists before your ride gets here?
“Or stab myself through the heart.” Shawn said, as he agreed with his inner demon.
Good call. Dark told him.
However, they were quickly found by an employee and led back to their room before they could get any funny ideas.

Dr. Monet walked back into her office where a man in a long coat and thick spectacles sat and waited for her. “I assume you gave them both the news? How did they take it?”
“About as well as we hoped, Professor Curtis.”
The older man grunted as the woman sat down behind her desk. “Why exactly did you make me pair those two up like that anyway? They’re complete strangers. You expect them to get better just by attending therapy sessions with each other? What is your game, Professor?”
He didn’t answer with a response. Instead, he pulled out two separate files from a briefcase that sat beside his chair. He set each one out on the desk and showed Doctor Monet the contents. “Shawn Relter: Age 22. Has attempted suicide 32 times over a span of ten years according to his medical file. Has tried psychiatric hospitalization, intensive trauma therapy, weekly treatments, medications, and different forms of psychosis. Claims that an inner demon lives inside of his head that he calls Dark, and is the cause of all of his self harm and depression. His family background shows lots of signs of schizophrenia, major depression disorder, and multiple personality disorder. No medications or treatments seem to alter or help this mindset of his. He wishes for the suicide contract form that became legal here in Idaho three years ago so that he can acquire help from a professional unit to...end his life. It’s a document we made up for cancer patients. Not mental patients. Unfortunately, he found some loopholes in the paperwork.”
“Yes, I know his medical file.” Doctor Monet told him, as she rolled her eyes. “He was just brought here last night for his latest suicide attempt. Tried to throw himself off the old office tower downtown after chugging a bunch of aspirin and whiskey. Not to mention his arm…”
“Moving on.” Professor Curtis muttered, as he opened the other folder and began pulling out documents. “Miranda Thorn: 20 years old. Has a long history with severe anxiety and nervous tendencies. Has had multiple issues in the past involving self harm, sexual harassment of various degrees, and a near-miss accidental suicide attempt when she sliced one of the veins in her leg a little too deep after one of her ‘episodes.’ Not only is this girl very hazardous to herself, but she doesn’t trust or allow anyone else inside of her head or heart. Also claims to have had a demon inside of her since the age of 4; named it Blaze. Unlike Shawn’s, her demon seems to be made up of pure anxiety and nervous paranoia. She wants us to file a ‘keepaway form.’ Is that right?”
“The self isolation act.” Doctor Monet answered. “Yes. The one that we use for people who have undergone severe trauma and stress. However, it’s a last resort.”
Professor Curtis puts the folders back together and sets them back inside his case. He clasps his hands and looks at Doctor Monet expectantly. “Tell me, Doctor. How many patients have you had over the years try this hard to escape their inner demons? Especially demons to such degrees such as these?”
“Not often.” She replied softly, as her eyes looked to her desk in thought. She played with a small desk toy shaped like a bird that bobbled its head up and down. With every thought that passed through her mind, she tapped the small toy with the tip of her pen. “Usually, medication and therapy are all people really need to move past their demons. Everyone has them.”
“These two, however, don’t seem to understand that.” The professor explained. “One wishes for a swift death. The other wishes for a long life alone. Ironically, their situations aren’t too different from each other.”
“I understand all of this from the medical side of things.” Doctor Monet said, as she began to tap the toy even harder. “However, both of their documents can be filed In 90 days. It’s just a stupid coincidence that the two of them filed for them on the exact same day. Shawn somehow managed to file while in a hospital last night after he woke up from an overdose nap, and Miranda was caught using the psych ward’s computers earlier this morning during her free period.”
“Is it, though?” Professor Curtis asked. “I do believe we have a bit of fate working with us, Doctor Monet. I think it’s best that we ride this out and do what we can with it. After all, this psych hospital isn’t going to help those two. They need direct care with a close eye, and they need it immediately.”
He began to gather his things and leave her desk. As he made his way for the door, he looked at her from over his shoulder. “Sometimes, the most important things for a patient to learn are from other survivors of their situations. People like you and I who have never felt their pain before...we just simply can’t understand it. You can’t fix something you can’t understand.”
He left her office with that to think about. She sighed, as she clicked on a small laptop that sat on her desk. As she looked at the two files of the young adults side by side, she scratched her temple with curiosity. “What was Professor Curtis seeing that I’m not?”


© Stoneink