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TRIGGER WARNINGS : talks about self harm (cutting), PTSD episodes, talks about depression & anxiety & anorexia, talks about abuse (hitting), talks about severe bullying and attempted murder, death, talks about drug abuse, talks about attempted suicide, lots of swearing

Damien POV
Happy tears filled my eyes as Quinn opened his eyes. He didn't move much, just blinking a few times and staring at the ceiling.

"Quinn?" I mumbled, gently rubbing his knuckles. Evan moved and slipped a hand over Quinn and I's joined hands.

"Is he awake?" Asked Patton, yawning and sitting up. He rubbed his eyes before placing his glasses back on.

Patton broke out into a smile and started waking up the other upon seeing that Quinn was awake.

"Everyone's finally okay," Virgil sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Now you two just have to get better," Roman said while giving Virgil a kiss on his forehead.

"I vote knives for when we beat the shit out of Jackson for putting both Virgil and Quinn in the hospital," Remy said. "Or is that not violent enough."

"Violence isn't the answer," Emile chastised him. "And it's good to see you're awake Quinn."

Quinn didn't say anything. He was looking blankly at his hand being held by Evan and I. Then he pulled his hand away and curled up on his side.

Evan looked up at my in confusion. I met his gaze with the same confusion before looking back at Quinn.

"Are you okay?" I asked him. No response.

A part of me wondered if he just didn't want to be touched right now. But he wasn't talking either.

"Quinn?" Evan whispered, gently resting a hand on Quinn's arm.

Quinn reacted quickly to that. He shot up, wide eyed and starting to hyperventilate. He pressed his back up against the headboard and scratched at where Evan touched him.

"Stop," I said sternly, grabbing his hand to stop him from making himself bleed. I know it's not good to touch him when he gets like this but I can't let him hurt himself like that.

"Is he okay?" Roman asked, looking worriedly at him.

"I don't know," I mumbled, slowly sitting back down. Evan curled up in my lap, distraught by Quinn's state.

"At least he's awake," Patton said, trying to remain positive. "And even if he isn't talking, he seems to know what's going on."

"But why isn't he talking?" Remy asked. "Can ya hear us?"

Quinn nodded his head 'yes'.

"Then why the hell aren't you talking to us?" Remy continued.

Quinn flinched, not responding.

"What's wrong?" Patton asked.

"Maybe he just doesn't want to talk about it," Emile suggested.

"Or maybe he just doesn't want to talk to us," Virgil mumbled. "Is he mad at us."

Quinn didn't respond. He just laid his head down on my knees, now refusing to even look at us.

"Does he hate us for not getting to him sooner?" Evan asked me.

"No, of course not," I told him. "I think..."

Everyone fell into silence. We all looked in concern and confusion at Quinn. It was an awkward silence, no one knowing what to say now.

"WHATS UP FUCKERS!" Yelled Remus, bursting into the room. "I BROUGHT MCDONALDS!"

He dropped about five bags from McDonalds on the floor, looking proud of himself. Quinn seemed to curl up even more now, shaking badly.

"Is this a bad time?" Remus asked, looking at Quinn weirdly.

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock," Roman growled at his brother.

"Well I brought food," Remus said. "Peace offering?"

"Food is good," Remy said, sitting up. "Gimmie some of that shit."

Remus tossed Remy a bag. Nobody else wanted any. Saying no with either excuses of hating McDonald's or not being hungry.

Remus sat down on the floor at the end of Virgil's bed. He took a bite of a hamburger before pointing at Quinn.

"Is he okay?" Remus asked.

"We don't know," I answered. "He's awake but not talking."

"Do you remember what happened?" Remus asked him. "At the tree."

Quinn started nodding frantically, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to scratch himself again. A few tears slipped down his cheeks. He started shivering.

"It's probably not good to talk about that," A female doctor said, entering the room. "I received a notification that Quinn woke up."

Quinn stared at the doctor with wide, fear filled eyes. The doctor gently helped him calm down and lay back in the hospital bed.

"My name's Dr. Cuthbert," She said. "As of now I'm one of the doctors for Virgil and Quinn. I'm not the doctor that's going to give you medicine and treat your injuries. I'm here to help with patients that develop any type of trauma related mental illnesses from their injuries. You two each have your own different doctors that come with insurance and all that insanity. I'm just here to help with the psychological injuries."

I just nodded a bit, still not sure. Emile looked interested, and that was an understatement. He was practically looking at Dr. Cuthbert in awe.

"Why do we need your help with that?" Virgil asked. "Aren't there therapists?"

"I diagnose, I don't help treat," Dr. Cuthbert answered. "And I also believe it's well past visiting hours and none of you are family members."

"That is correct," Patton started. "But they're our best friends and they need comfort."

"I understand that, but I also have rules and regulations to follow," She told us. "And patients to talk to about classified and personal information."

"It would be wise for us to leave," Logan agreed, standing up.

"It'd be nice to sleep in an actual bed," Aren't agreed.

"And the snow finally stopped," Remus added.

"Okay, lets all go," Patton said. "I'm sure these two want a break from all of us."

"Finally, some peace and quiet," Virgil laughed in a joking manner.

"Oh you love us," Roman said, getting out of the bed.

I stood up slowly, holding Evan's hand tightly. We both looked at Quinn worriedly. We don't know what's wrong with him but we want him to be safe and happy.

So I led the way out of the hospital room. Silently thinking a plea to whatever god was out there, begging them to let Quinn make it out of this okay.

Virgil POV
I watched silently as everyone slowly left. Once everyone exited the room, Dr. Cuthbert shut the door. She took a seat in a chair located roughly in the center of the room.

"Would you two prefer to do this individually or is it okay together?" She asked us.

"I don't mind," I told her. "And I'd rather not have to get up again."

Earlier today, my doctor made me get up and started walking around with crutches. I hated it. I don't know if I'm just weak from the injury or I'm just severely out of shape.

"Quinn?" She asked. "Do you want to be alone during this?"

He shook his head 'no', but otherwise didn't look up at us or say anything.

"We'll start with Virgil," Dr. Cuthbert said. "I've looked through your files and gathered some information. You attempted suicide and self harm during the summer after you freshman year and then spent three months at the New Dawn Mental Hospital. You were diagnosed with severe depression, severe anxiety disorder, anorexia, and possible PTSD. After you were released, there's nothing else. You dropped therapy after only one session. Now you're in the hospital after an accident at Opal Gorge. You broke your leg and don't remember how you got the injury. The doctors suspect it to be traumatic memory loss. Currently your father has been arrested on child abuse towards you and your mother put into rehab for drug abuse on antidepressants. And based of the levels of antidepressants you were on when you first arrived, it's suspected you might be abusing them in some sense."

"Yep, you hit it spot on," I sighed, looking up at the ceiling. A few tears appeared in my eyes but I blinked them away quickly.

"So you haven't had the best life," She said.

"You could say that," I mumbled.

"Have you ever self harmed?" She asked me.

"Yeah, that should've been in my file thing," I said.

"I know, but admitting it helps recovery," Dr. Cuthbert told me. "When's the last time you hurt yourself and it what way?"

"Maybe a month or so ago," I mumbled. "I just cut."

She nodded solemnly, writing something on the notepad in her lap.

"Now about the antidepressant issue," She started. "Would you say you're addicted to the substance, or at least rely on it to some extant."

"Maybe last year," I said, trying to be honest. "My boyfriend made me stop taking them when we started dating. I just took a lot because it made me feel calmer. I think I just took some because things were really shitty the day I broke my leg."

"What happened?" She asked, writing again.

"There's this guy, Jackson, who picks on me and my friends. It's cause we're all part of the LGBTQ+ community. He cornered my boyfriend and tried to force himself on him. I thought my boyfriend was cheating on me. I went back to my house and that's the last thing I remember."

"Do you know how you got to Opal Gorge?" She asked me.

"No clue," I mumbled. "My boyfriend said he explained what happened, showing me a video that proved he wasn't cheating on me. But then I slipped and fell off the bridge."

"Okay," She mumbled, writing again. "Now about your parents. I read that you have a sister that died when you were younger."

"Yeah, she was really sick. It was kinda inevitable, but still a slap to the face," I said.

"And your parents?"

"Dad was mean. He hit me a lot. He was always drunk. He locked me in the basement a few times. He kept threatening me. He didn't hit me when Evangeline was alive. It got really bad when she died." I mumbled.

"Your mom?"

"She never did anything. She tried to help but it just got her in trouble with Dad. I don't think she's really there anymore though. She needs help." I said.

"That's good enough for now," Dr. Cuthbert said with a smile. "Quinn?"

He slowly looked up. His face was blotchy and his eyes were red. He was really good at crying silently.

"I also looked into your files," She told him.  "You've also had a pretty chaotic life.  Your father is a serial killer and spent many years in prison, but he is dead now.  But before that, your father locked you in the basement of your house for two years where he raped and tortured you.  After this, there's many cases of bullying and harassment towards you but school administrators did nothing.  Your father than escaped prison and killed your mother.  He threatened you and eventually tried to kill you.  Now you're in the hospital after getting severe hypothermia from being tied to a tree during a snowstorm."

Quinn slowly nodded along to everything.  He doesn't deserve any of that.

"I understand that right now you don't want to talk and I'm not going to force you to,"  Dr. Cuthbert told him.  "So we'll stick to yes or no questions."

"You have PTSD and touch sensitivity, correct?"  She asked. 

Quinn nodded 'yes'.

"Have you ever self harmed?"  She asked.

Quinn nodded 'yes' after hesitating a bit. 

"Cutting?"

Quinn nodded yes but than lifted his arm and pretended to scratch it.

"Due to your PTSD, you tend to scratch yourself until you bleed as a distraction?"  Dr. Cuthbert asked.

Quinn nodded 'yes'.

"I'm going to have you fill out these two forms,"  She told him, setting two papers and a pencils in front of him.  "You've already been diagnosed with PTSD, but I'd like to see if you have an anxiety or depression disorder."

Quinn started slowly filling out the papers.  After a few minutes, he moved away from the papers.

Dr. Cuthbert took the papers and sat back down.  She read over them and wrote a few things down.

"Are you willing to talk to me about what happened yesterday?"  She asked Quinn gently.

Quinn very fiercely shook his head 'no'.  He visibly paled and tears filled his eyes. 

"Wound you rather talk to me or a police officer about what happened?"  She asked him.  "We have the photo of you tied to the tree, supplied by one of your friends.  But I'm going to need you to explain to authorities how this happened.  It's either me or an officer."

Quinn pointed at her.  He didn't seem to like the idea of having to talk to a cop. 

"Then I'm going to need you to tell me what happened,"  She said.  She set down a tape recorder and started it.  Quinn took a deep, shaky breath. 

"I was walking home from the library.  I like spending time there away from my boyfriends because it's quiet there.  I can read and draw in peace.  I walk down backroads to get back to my boyfriend's house because I can't drive and I don't like crowded areas.  Jackson showed up and he kept yelling at me about Virgil and Roman.  When I didn't answer he started hitting me.  He told me I was the closest punching bag he had and if he couldn't get the emo fuck to kill himself, he'd try with the psycho.  Than he tied me to the tree.  He burned my sketchbook in front of me and then just left me there."

Quinn was crying when he finished.  His eyes wide, seeing some bad memory of that night.  He started shaking.

"It was so cold,"  He mumbled.  "It was so cold and dark under all the snow.  It was suffocating.  I kept telling myself to not fall asleep.  But than I did..."

"You don't have to tell me anymore,"  She told Quinn gently. 

"I want a hug,"  Quinn mumbled.

"From who?"  Dr. Cuthbert asked.

"Virgil?"  He whispered it more of a question. 

"You'll have to come here, I can't walk,"  I told him.

Quinn got up and walked over to me, dragging his IV with him.  He crawled into the bed while I scooted over to make room for him.

He curled up next to me, shaking badly.  I hugged him tightly, understanding that he really needed comfort right now.

"Something you both said was about some boy named Jackson,"  She said. 

"He's a dickhead that bullies the shit out of us at school,"  I said angrily.  "He's the jerk that tied Quinn to the tree and tried to assault my boyfriend.  He picks on all of us both physically and verbally."

"You said earlier that there's a video?"  She asked.

"Yeah, I can show you,"  I told her.  "But why so much about Jackson?"

"Well if what you're telling me is true,"  Dr. Cuthbert said.  "Jackson could go to juvenile detention on assault and attempted homicide."

Quinn started shaking his head 'no' frantically. Both Dr, Cuthbert and I gave him a confused look.

"I don't want to press charges towards Jackson," Quinn mumbled.