AN: *coughs* *laughs nervously* I-I'll just g-get on with the S-story. *hides in random car* *whispers* Please don't kill me.

(P.S, media above is just to say that there is a schedule, it doesn't match the actual schedule Nico will have.)

TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!

Nico's POV
(Recap from last chapter)

     "I'm going to go find mama, I'll be back in the morning."
     "Alright. Bye Bianca."
     "Sweet dreams, il mio piccolo soldato."
I watched Bianca floated through the wall, then closed my eyes, and went to sleep.

(End of recap)

Persephone's POV
(Recap of last chapter)

     They might figure out Nico has been getting hurt this entire time, and that would send Hades away for quite a few years and I might be prosecuted for not telling anyone. I'll just deal with it. He obviously loves me more than Nico, right? I mean, I'm his wife, and I'm me.
Persephone Di Angelo. Hades for sure loves me more than his faggot of a son.

(End of recap)

Nico's POV
(Present time)

     I woke up a while later, to someone banging on my door. A gruff voice called in.
     "Di Angelo, wake up! It's time to take your medication and eat breakfast!"
     Before I could reply, the door opened, and a plate of food was shoved inside, with a small cup filled with clear liquid. Two pills colored white, and another capsule, a pale blue, lay on a napkin, resting on the plate. Those were probably the medication.
I looked back toward the door, which promptly shut its self with a loud, BANG!!
     My hospital gown was white with blue little, *, symbols dotted on it. The gown was itchy and hung to just below my knees with the sleeves coming to my elbows.
     Bianca wasn't back yet, which made me feel disappointed, but I suppose she'll come back later. Right?
     I sit down on the creaky "bed", ignoring the suspicious, but thankfully old looking, dark stain near the end of the bed.
     My breakfast consisted of a piece of toast, with a granola bar and banana. I decided to take my pills first, even though they say you should eat before you take most medication.
The water in that styrofoam cup tasted bitter, and the pills didn't help with the taste.
     Should I even be taking these? A small part of my mind thought. Do I really need them? Or are they just trying to poison me? Not that anyone would care if I was gone though...
     I shook myself out of my self deprecating thoughts. God, I hate my life. It was my fault Bia died, it was probably my fault my dad had sleep around, a year after my mother died in childbirth with me, and I ended up getting a half sibling somewhere, living with their mom. My dad got a abusive, he took his anger out on me...... and he can't anymore since I'm here.
     I wonder if he will stop being so aggressive. Not likely.  He might just take his anger out on Persephone. I laughed bitterly. That's what the bitch deserves. I may be depressed, and angry with myself, but that doesn't mean I can't be angry with other people. Especially with Persephone.
That bitch didn't do anything to stop the abuse. Sure, she may have found me and called an ambulance, but did she really ever care about me?
I glance toward the spot where my previous clothes were. A black shirt with a skull on it, black skinny jeans, black, very worn, converse and black socks. And, no. I'm not emo. I just prefer black, since it was so different from what the man that killed my sister was wearing that day.
Wearing all black was like my lame coping mechanism. Strange, but I honestly don't give a fuck anymore since I'm probably going to be locked up here the rest of my miserable life.
As my eyes rest upon the spot my clothes were, I see them gone. Gone. I start to panic. I had a razor, contained in a small box, in my pant pockets, the only one I had with me. Did someone come in and take my clothes? Who? What for? Oh God. This can't be happening.
I take a breath. A nurse probably just came in and got my clothes during the night. I quickly swallow all three pills, then take a sip of my water. I scarf my toast and banana. I didn't feel like eating the granola bar, so I left it on my plate.
"Great....." I mutter to myself looking around. "Look what you got yourself into, Nico. Say goodbye to the rest of your nuclear life."
I sigh, the stand up, placing my plate and cup in the floor my my cell. I walk over to the door, then knock.
"Hello?" I call, hoping that the walls and door aren't sound proof. Suddenly I hear maniacal laughter echoing from the outside hall. Apparently it isn't sound proof here.
I pause for a moment, hoping that whoever was outside would have left.
"Hello?" I say again. The response I get is the gruff voice from earlier.
"Quiet down. Now, wha'd ya want?
"I finished eating." Then I realized how wrong that sounded, and added. "My breakfast. I finished eating my breakfast."
The panel on the door slid open, and a small, dark eye peered through. I took a step back, so he could see the plate. He eyed it for a moment, then looked back at me.
"You need to eat the granola bar. We know you don't have any nut allergies, or allergies at all for that matter. Eat the granola bar."
"Uh, I'm full." I tell him, not sure why a granola bar would make much of a difference in my nutrition.
"You have Anorexia Nervosa in its most severe stages. Your not, not eating it. I have strict orders, and I WILL follow them."
Then he promptly shut the panel, leaving me by myself once more. I groan, then turn back to the granola bar. I pick the plate up, and unwrapped the Oates bar. I was about to take a reluctant bite, when I had a sudden thought.
     I bent over and looked under the bed. Nothing but a couple spiderwebs. I smirked and tossed the granola bar under the bed, waited for a couple minutes, then turned, marched back over to the door, and knocked. The panel slid open once more revealing the mans pig like eyes.
"I'm done eating my breakfast." I start.
"Good. Now, leave your trash in a corner of the room. Then sit and contemplate the values of life." He slid the panel shut again. Wow. What a jerk. Still better than Persephone. And my "Father".
I guess I'm just suppose to sit here all day. Why though? Parents give their children time-outs so they can think about what they did wrong, when really the kid is just thinking about Minecraft or Call of Duty, or playing with their friend, and they don't really care about why they were put there.
     It's the same way here. I didn't do anything wrong though. I don't have Schizophrenia, or PTSD! I don't have Anorexia either, I just don't like to eat.
I admit, I do have depression. That much was obvious. I just don't know how I will sit here all day. This is going to be torture.
I sit down on the bed, and stare at the scars on my wrist. I'd gotten stitches in some of the deeper ones, but the ones that weren't stitched were a faint red color, fading into pink, making X's up both my forearms.
I wonder if I'll ever be able to leave this horrible room. They can't keep me here forever, right? I hope so. I lay down on my stomach, head turned towards the left, and sighed.
     When would Bianca come back? Hopefully not too soon. I know it's horrible, but I felt guilty about her death and I just feel even more guilty now that she's here. It's this horrible, choked feeling, like I'm being suffocated with emotions.
     I soon felt sleepiness take over, and a voice, a beautiful voice I had never heard before, lulled me too sleep.

(Time skip to a couple hours later because the author is lazy af)

     "Wake up!" The man from outside shouted, waking me up from my dreamless slumber.
      "What?!" I shout back, sick of his rudeness.
     "No talking back! Don't forget the rules!"
     "Do I care? NO!!" I shout back. What will I lose, anyway? Nothing that I'll care about.
"Punishment for talking back: Shock Therapy!"
I freeze. Not what I had expected. I'd heard about Shock Therapy in places like this. It was treatment for chronic mental conditions by electroconvulsive therapy or by inducing psychological shock. It was them taking sudden and drastic measures to solve an intractable problem.
I remain silent, and hear a low menacing chuckle come from outside the door.
"Behave." Said the man. I sigh. Then respond.
"Yes, sir."
"Good." He said smugly from outside. "Now, I will open this door. You will not attempt escape, or deem me incapacitated. You will wait for my instructions like a good boy. Then, I will lead you to the socializing area, where you can converse with other patients. Your hands will be bound, to help you refrain from any violent actions toward yourself, the staff, or the other patients. How, you will be bound, a strait jacket. I will be the one putting it on you. If you complain, you are taken back to your cell- er, room. If you get violent towards yourself, the staff, and/or patients, you will be taken back to your room and will later be given Shock Therapy. That includes furniture. Any questions?"
     "How long will I be in the, "Socializing Room?""
     "An hour, then you will be escorted back to your room where you will eat lunch."
     "What time is it?"
     "Eleven-fifty eight."
     "When will I leave to the room?"
     There was a click of the door unlocking and then, before it opened, then man who I will start calling John as in John Doe, called in.
     "Now. Back away from the door."
     I took a step back just as the door open.
      "Good. You listened." John's gruff voice said.
     He looked much like the escort that brought me here, but this man actually had a head of thinning, light brown, hair with streaks of gray, showing his older age. He had wrinkles in his pale forehead, and emotionless almond eyes. With thin, chapped lips and a burly, muscled build, he looked like a humanized version of the Hulk.
     He was wearing a white uniform with a tiny white hat resting upon his head. A little, red, cross was centered on the hat and shirt. Large white shoes adorned his feet.
     Holding a strait jacket in hand, he tells me to turn around, in a low voice.
      I oblige and before I have a chance to react, I'm already wrapped up in the yellow-white cloth of a strait jacket, my arms firmly pressed around the sides of my body.
      "Face me." John ordered. I turned around and looked at him, giving the oaf my best glare. He glared right back.
     "Follow me." He growled, and left the room, me trailing behind him feeling useless.
Nothing's new there. I think to myself. I sigh, my posture slightly slouched as I follow John.
As we walk briskly, well, John walking briskly and me struggling to keep up so I didn't get lost in these endless hallways, I noticed restless spirits and lost souls wandering the corridors.
Some are bloody and mangled, while other are sunken in, with hollowed out eyes and hair in tufts of snarls matted at the tops of their heads. Some with gouged out eyes, and severed heads.
Ever since my attempted suicide, everyday passing I see more and more corpses of the damned, walking the earth and roaming the streets.
Although I had only seen the outside a couple times since I stayed in the hospital, I got the feeling there were more dead there than in any building.
As we finally exited the impossibly long halls, with endless turns and twists, we came upon a different room than the one I first saw when I originally arrived at Half-Blood Mental Institution and Asylum.
     It was still had white floors, white walls, white ceiling. Everything in this place was white. Probably because they say white is a calming color. Well not to me.
     White reminds me of the sky the day of Bianca's murder. A blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds and a yellow sun peaking out from behind the Dolomite Mountain range.
     My thought became filled with our laughter from moments before the scene happened. Me racing Bianca home, trying so hard to out race her. Then stopping, and not wanting to race, trying to annoy her. If I had just went along with the game, Bianca would probably still be here. Alive.
     Memories of Bianca's lifeless body and the shot that fatally wounded her played in my mind, tears streaming down my face.
     I couldn't wipe them away since the strait jacket had my arms glued to my scarily thin body.
Why couldn't it have been me?
     "Hey, stop crying and keep moving. Next time I won't be as generous as to stop." John snapped.
     I turn away from my thoughts and study the room we just entered. It was pretty large, but definitely not large enough to fit all the patients in this one room.
They must have different Socializing Rooms for different wings of the building, or just a different times for all the patients to be down here.
     The first one seemed more accurate, but I doubt I'll ever know, guessing from why I'm here and what this place is.
     I followed John to the center of the room and stop to wonder why they couldn't have just added chairs.
     The room had no furniture, just the blinding white that was constantly surrounding me. Then I noticed a clock in the high left hand corner of the room. It was also white except for green numbers.
Green. That was the color of his shirt that day. The man that shot my sister, once full of life and happiness, she was left bloody and lifeless.
     I quickly checked the time, and turned away from the clock that seemed to tick menacingly, as if it were counting down the minutes till my life was over.
If only that had happened before I came here. The time had read 12:01. I stood there, tapping my foot, waiting for other patients to get here while John left to the back of the room, eyeing me suspiciously as if a murder had been committed, and he was the cop and I was the person of interest. God.
     It wasn't even a full minute before another patient entered the room. He had jet black hair and sea green eyes. A troublemakers smile adorned his tan face and complimented his swimmers build.
     In other words, he was cute. I quickly shook the thought aside, reminding myself that I couldn't let my barrier down to anyone. Besides, I didn't need a reminder of a past crush I had just gotten over.
      The boy also had a strait jacket wrapped tightly around his obviously muscular body. When he saw me, his face instantly lit up, and then I realized who he was. The said crush from earlier.
Perseus Jackson. He was a friend of Bianca's before she....... passed. He had been an exchange student at the time. I remember after she died, he'd tried to come and tell me he was sorry for our family's loss, but I didn't want to hear it.
     Somehow, I tried to blame him, and I did for a while, then came to my senses and realized how it wasn't Percy's fault. It was mine. God, how could I have not seen that before?
     I immediately turned away from Percy, not wanting to look him in the eye after I had admitted my crush on him. Plus, now he knew my sexuality. He probably hated me, or was offended that I told him he "wasn't my type."
Please don't talk to me, please don't talk to me. I kept thinking, as if it would stop the inevitable.
     "Hey!" His voice called from behind me. I inwardly groan, then turn around.
     "H-hi Percy."
     Behind him, Percy's.... what, guard? Told him to keep his voice down. His guard was taller and thinner than mine, with brown hair, bleached at the tips.
     He had dark blue eyes, and basically looked like the love child between to old friends I used to have. Jason and Piper. They dated once then had a mutual break-up.
     I turned my attention back to Percy, a wide grin plastered on his face.
      "Why are you here Nico?"
     "Uh, no reason." I respond, not wanting to explain my situation.
     "Well you have to be here for something!" He persisted. "So what's your 'illness'?" He used quotation marks around "illness."
"I don't know. Why are you here?" I ask quickly, turning the tables.
"I'm here for Schizo- something or the other. I'm not really sure what it really means, but they took me here to help me or something. I've been here a year. I just wish my abilities could get me out."
"Abilities?" I ask, with genuine curiosity.
"They say I can't speak to horses and can't breath under water and control it, but I know I can. I can also speak to fish. I know I'm not as crazy as they claim." He smiles at me.
I really didn't know what to think. The 'Schizo- something or other' he was talking about was probably Schizophrenia, the psychiatrist had said I had that, but his was different than mine. He claims he can speak to equestrian mammals, breath and control water, and talk to fish.
Either he just a REALLY big aquaman fan, or really thinks he can. I struggle to find words to respond to all he just told me.
"Uh, cool......?" I say, unsure.
"So I've told you, now you tell me. Why are you here?"
I suddenly take interest in other patients fanning in with their guards. No one else I recognize.
"Nico?" Percy questions, his sea green eyes trying to pry information out of me.
"I'd rather not say, Percy, if you don't mind."
He gave me a small smile, then turned so he was looking out towards the other patients. It was mostly silent except for some random muttering of some people in the room. The silence that stretched between Percy and I was awkward, and a little tense.
Finally I sigh and break the silence.
"Percy, if your mad at me because of what I told you a couple years ago, about my crush on you, I'm sorry. I now realize what I said was a little rude, and I just don't know why I said it like that." I look down at the ground. "I'm sorry." I mumble.
Percy takes this as a chance to speak up.
"Nico, I'm not mad at you. I don't know why people think I would make a big deal over that. It doesn't bother me that you used to have a crush on me. I'm just glad that you had the courage to tell me. Your like a little brother to me, so don't think you can't tell me anything. Alright?"
I felt so relieved at this. At least someone didn't hate me.
"So," Percy says, starting on a new topic.
"What do you think these people are in here for?"
I look around at the various people. Some looked crazy, like they would be willing to murder the president for a quarter, while others just looked defeated, and a couple people looked perfectly happy, but were constantly talking to themselves.
"I think they were all diagnosed with something like us, or even different, but it wasn't normal, so society banned them here. Because they were unique in their own way."
Percy looked at me after I said that.
"Dude," he said with a silly grin on his face. "That was some deep shit."
I turn my head and look back out to the patients. They were all different ages and races, and for sure religions, but because they thought, or saw, or acted differently they were outcasted. Now I was joining the growing crowd.
"How did I never know you went here?" I ask. The question had been bothering me since I had seen him at this place.
He turned to me and shrugged.
"I guess our lives just went different ways. I was taken here after I moved back to America, then was brought to a different place--Jupiter Asylum, I believe-- and then changed back here. We just never saw fit to contact each other, and now here we are."
He gestured around him to the Institution. Some of the patients seemed to be watching us. So I send one of them a glare. A girl.
"Stop staring at me." I growl. "I don't like being watched." (AN: Get the reference? Yeah? No? Okay, I go now.)
The girl made a squeaking noise, then scrambled away. Percy gave me a wary look.
"You've changed a lot Nico."
"Things happen and people change." I say bitterly. Percy sighed.
"Alright. Just, please, try not to cause to much trouble."
I stare at him in shock. Percy Jackson, the troublemaker, a rebel, a rule breaker, telling me not to be trouble.
"That's quite a hypocritical statement coming from you Percy." I say, still a little flustered.
He chuckled softly.
"Yeah. I know. But please Nico, the punishments here.... they're bad. Just please try not to get in trouble. I don't want you subjected to that kind of pain." He looked at me dead serious.
"Y-yeah. Sure." I stutter.
"Good." He says, and relaxes a little bit. He doesn't really care..... who would? A little voice in the back of my mind said. Shut up. I told it.
There was a soft buzz that echoed through the pristine room. All the guards started shouting for us to line up, and some patients rebelled against the orders, and were immediately taken away to God knows where, while the rest of us waited.
Each of the guards then came up one at a time and took their patient. I was in the beginning so I was taken earlier than others, and brought back to my cell. John didn't waste any time removing the strait jacket, and was immediately out the door, slamming it behind him.
     "Your second meal will be here soon. Be patient." He shouted from the other side of the door. I sighed, and sat on the bed. If this was how my days were going to be from now on, then I wonder how Percy hasn't gone insane. He was more ADHD than me.
    As I heard John's footsteps recess down the hall, I lay back on my bed, not looking forward to, or hungry for so  much as a Pop-Tart. I hope that my lunch meal won't be too big.
     I sit alone with my thoughts until the door slid open and a paper plate was slid in with a white sort of mush in a bowl and a plastic spoon, along with a cup of water. No pills this time, but I will probably have more later tonight.
      I brought a spoonful of the goop up to my lips, and cautiously licked it. I immediately wanted to puke, but figured that wouldn't do me, or anyone else any good. Instead I gulped down my water.
       I unfortunately only realized that after I drank all my water that I couldn't store this mush under my bed, unlike the granola bar from this morning. I would have to eat the strange mystery goop.
      I nearly choked at just the thought. I stared at it color. White, just like everything else in this damned place. Then I used to spoon and shoveled the mush down my throat, nearly choking every two seconds.
     After a very painful 'meal', I felt extremely nauseous. I didn't even tell that jerk of a guard, John, I had finished my meal. I just lay down in my bed hoping this feeling would pass. Hoping this was all just a bad dream. Hoping someone would save me.

AN: um...... hi? Please don't kill me? Maybe? No? Well, if you kill me you won't get more of the story so I wouldn't murder me if you happen to like my terrible writing skills.
 
     I do have one excuse, that is the reason for all misery on earth. School. I know that's not a good excuse to not update in.... what? Three, four weeks? But, it's still an excuse. And yes, I know, I'm a horrible person. I feel absolutely awful for not updating in so long. Well, I hope this extra long update makes it up partially.
   
     This chapter is a part one of two or three parts. Did I portray Percy alright? Is Nico's character acceptable for his actual personage? Please tell me! I need constructive criticism so I can improve my crappy writing!

     Anyway, I've decided to call you my Dumpling Children! A thanks and shout-out to Zelda_Air , Hadeschild11 , and Kitten-04 who all helped me with coming up with this name! And just a shout-out to all my readers! You're all beautiful and amazing people if you have the patience for someone like me. I love you all! Until next time my Dumpling Children! 😉

Word count: 4,322