Lauren led Brett to a table near the window. There weren't many of them in the psych ward, but this one boasted a view of the parking lot and a McDonald's. Not much to look at, but being locked away from the world does something to your head. Brett was jealous of cars waiting in the drive-thru lane. They got to grab their food and go--wherever they liked. He craved the freedom he'd once taken for granted. 

The words Lauren spoke in the pantry unnerved him. He hadn't considered that anyone else in the ward would be testing out the same drug as him. The doctor made it sound like it was super controversial, and he'd just assumed he was one in a handful of saps across the country who got to play guinea pig. But if Lauren was on it, too, maybe he had an ally in here. Someone who could understand. 

"You go first," she said, sitting expectantly. 

"What do you mean?" he asked. What did she want from him?

"Your story. How you got here. Tell me."

"I'm not sure--"

She cut him off. "You're uncomfortable. I get it. It sucks, spilling your entrails for all to see. But you can trust me. I've been through it all. Name the drug, and I've tried it. Electroshock therapy? Been there, done that. You can't tell me anything that will surprise me." 

Lauren's face looked haggard. She hadn't been sleeping, that was for sure. Her green eyes were drooping with the sleep deprivation he'd been struggling with for the past week, ever since the dog died. Still, he wasn't going to just come out with his life story in front of a stranger. 

"If you're so unbothered by all this, why don't you go first?" 

She didn't blink a tired eye.

"I've been depressed since I was sixteen. Tried to kill myself by taking a bunch of drugs from the medicine cabinet, but I was too young and dumb to know what combination would do the trick. That was my first time in the hospital, the first time of many. You'd think I was a cat, how many lives I have. This last time I came close." She held up her wrist. "I only got one done, but they said I lost about half my blood. My roommate came home just in time. Fast forward to being admitted and they tell me they have this new drug they're testing that can have an immediate impact on depression. It's saved lives. I signed all the papers, got hooked up to the IV, and went on what I assume was one crazy ass trip. I don't really know because I've never done psychedelics before."

Her story checked out. He couldn't believe how forthcoming she was being when she didn't even know his last name. He could be some psychopath off the street, for all she knew. It was unsettling and yet refreshing at the same time. Skip over the getting to know you small talk. It's not that he wished more people were like her, but he could understand her perspective.

"Any questions?" She clasped two fingers around her injured wrist. He wasn't sure if she did it consciously or for comfort. 

"Um." He paused, not sure how to respond. He couldn't sum his life up in a paragraph like she could. Not that he thought that was her whole life, but the important parts for this purpose. The dying, and not dying, and dying, and not dying. He could relate to that. 

"How did you do it?"

 She leaned forward slightly. He'd been asked this question before by other patients in the hospital. It was like some grotesque curiosity, a compulsion almost, to know how other people chose to die. It said something about them, about their personality, their identity. Some people chose to do it quietly, like Lauren taking the pills. Some people wanted to make a ruckus, a scene for people to be forced to confront when they didn't look before it was too late. According to Lauren, she'd tried it all. A million ways to die, a million ways of coming back to life. 

"I don't know where to begin," Brett said, staring out the window. 

"It's like that." Lauren nodded. 

"I just didn't want to do anything. Just wanted to be gone. For it to be over."

"The pain?"

"No. The nothingness."

The two were quiet for a moment. 

"I didn't mean to kill myself," he admitted. "I was drunk and stupid. I dove into a lake."

"Sounds like suicide to me," Lauren said. 

"My dog died," he continued, and then blushed. It sounded ridiculous. He waited for Lauren to laugh. When she didn't he went on. "I spent a week drinking. Thinking. Kind of about everything. Like if there is a purpose to anything. Because if there is, I don't see it. I wanted to know more. But at the same time, I didn't want to look. The thing is, I couldn't stop myself from looking for the more. And then one night, I was standing there by the lake and looking at the stars and thinking, that's something that's real. Or was real at one time. When everything else seems fake. And... I wanted to touch it."

She breathed in. "And now you're here."

He concurred. "Now I'm here."

"We're both here," she said.