"I'll see you later Luke," Michael says, hugging me.

"See you soon," I say sadly. I'm going to miss him so much.

"Bye Lukey," Calum says next, hugging me as soon as I'm done hugging Michael.

I try to laugh, but it comes out as a harsh breath. "Don't call me Lukey, you loser," I say, punching him lightly on the bicep.

Finally, it's Ashton's turn. It must have finally all hit him because I can see the smallest amount of tears in his eyes. But he doesn't dare let them drop. He wordlessly pulls me into an embrace and it feels like forever until we both let go. He drops a kiss to my lips and whispers, "Don't worry, I'll visit as often as they'll let me." It makes me smile, our foreheads resting together. Then he pulls away, too fast for my liking. I'd like to stay like that forever.

"Ready Luke?" the nurse in front of all of us asks.

"Yeah," I say through a long sigh. I wave to all of them as I get led through the double doors of the psych unit, locked behind a key card. I look back while walking, and notice Calum holding Ashton, with Ashton's head buried in Calum's shoulder. It breaks my heart, knowing I'm hurting him like this - knowing I'm hurting them all like this.

Then the doors close, locking me away from them.

The ward looks empty, and it makes me wonder if there's anyone here at all or if I'm the only one. But then I remember this is LA. This place is probably packed and they're all busy in group or something.

It does feel scary, all for a different reason that it was when I was hospitalized at the center. Back then, I had never experienced being hospitalized. Now, this isn't new to me. However, this is an entirely different country where I know almost no one personally. My family isn't even here.

"Lucy, can you finish up the plans for afternoon activity for me? I need to show Luke here around."

"Sounds good! Hello Luke," I hear a cheery voice say from an area with a big banner that reads NURSE'S STATION!

"This way," she says to me. She leads me down a corridor with a few rooms on the left and a lot of rooms on the right. On the right side are patient rooms, with a name per room. Once we find mine, she shows me inside. It's a room with a bed, a chair, and a bookcase. Just like the center I stayed at before but without a desk. Once we leave the room and she shows me around a bit, I realize the nurse's station is in the centre while the patient rooms are surrounding the nurse's area. It's a big square, for perspective.

Finally, we come to the group room that everyone is in. "Do I have to go in, or can I be in my room so I don't interrupt everyone?" I ask, secretly hoping I won't have to join them halfway. Then everyone's eyes would be on me and... just, no.

"Groups are mandatory, sorry bud." She says to me. I nearly groan, but hide it behind a cough. As we walk in, everyone's eyes turn to me except for a few, who seem to be intently listening to a man speak.

"But nothing is working, and I feel like I've run out of hope now. My friend and siblings aren't enough anymore to keep me going," he says sadly, nearly crying. I can tell I came in at a bad time.

"Are you religious Tom? Believing in a higher power seems to give a lot of us that extra hope we need," she says and oh please no, not someone overly religious. Don't get me wrong, be who you are, but please don't push your beliefs on others.

"I'm an atheist, Karen," he says harshly. It almost makes me laugh. It reminds me of those typical American mom memes that say Your tuna casserole is shit, Sharon.

Karen seems taken aback by his comment, but then notices my presence in the room. She waves, and the rest of the people who were listening to Tom turn around to look at me. Tom continues to vent though, letting his tears fall this time.

"The meds don't work, therapy isn't doing crap, and I'm just, stuck. Again. Always stuck."

I take a seat very carefully, making sure to not open any stitches. I'm seated next to a pretty girl with blonde hair lighter than mine. I tune out the conversation and look around at the people around me.

One person sticks out the most though. Another girl, frizzy dirty blonde hair, bordering on brunette, with her jaw dropped looking at me.

Oh god, I think to myself, please don't be a fan.

After a few seconds, she closes her mouth and looks down. Maybe she'll be chill.

I continue to look around. There's about eight people total in the room. There must be another group room because I noticed there are at least double the rooms on the unit than people in this room.

After a while of spacing out, I hear my name said aloud.

"...Luke who will be joining us for the next few days," Karen says. Doesn't she mean next three days? Is there an unspoken rule about not mentioning the three days?

I then realise they're waiting for me to say something. "Hi," I say simply, hoping that will be enough. It seems to do the trick, because the attention is off of me, and back to the others, as Karen wants them to introduce themselves.

The only two names I catch are Tom and Sierra. Sierra is the dirty blonde/brunette whose eyes don't leave me   It's making me extremely self conscious. Is she judging my body? Probably.

I must have come at the end of group because before I know it, group is being wrapped up. Everyone gets up but I'm the first to leave the room, feeling so uncomfortable in my skin right now. I'm walking fast and I can feel tugging at my stitches and it hurts, but I don't care. I make my way to my room immediately, feeling an anxiety attack coming on. Recently when I felt like this, I would just cut. But that's not an option right now, and I'm left to old treatment center techniques of in-and-out breathing and trying to distract myself. It's hard to distract yourself in a bland room filled with nothing but a pristine bed and chair. Soon the anxiety starts to cover me like a blanket and I can't even curl up into a ball to calm myself down because of the stitches on my thighs. I lay down with hands over my chest, trying to breathe.

A nurse walks in five minutes later and asks if I'm okay. I barely fumble out, "anxiety attack," and she quickly makes her way over to me. She tells me to sit up and I follow her direction. Anything to get me out of this situation right now.

She leads me through a breathing exercise, which is so much easier when there's someone with you doing it. I can already feel myself start to breathe, as if this was a small attack. Thank god, honestly. I don't think I could deal with a heavy anxiety attack right now.

After a few more minutes of breathing, she offers to bring me a cup of water. I nod my head, and she's on her way out. Although she did help me, I can feel myself relax once she leaves. I hate letting people see me like this, it makes me feel weak. Once she comes back in with a paper cup, I let her know this.

"Anxiety, or anything else you're struggling against, doesn't make you weak," she says to me, "if anything, it makes you stronger than others who don't experience it. You're constantly fighting against these demons you struggle with, and each day it makes you stronger, whether you feel that or not." Her words help me to calm down further.

"What's your name?" I ask her.

"Lena," she tells me.

"I like you, you're good with words," I say, still trying to take deep breaths.

She laughs and thanks me, then says, "Do you want to talk about what brought your anxiety on?"

Should I tell her? Well, I'm in a psych ward, what do I have to lose?

"Well, there's this one girl, Sierra. I walked in to group and she wouldn't stop staring at me. The logical side of me is worried she recognises me, but my disordered side is telling me she's staring at me because I look horrendous. I mean, no one stares at you for that long unless you're fat like me," I tell her honestly.

"Darling," Lena says, shaking her head, "you're certainly not fat. If anything, you're very thin." It makes me smile a tiny bit, having someone say I look thin. But it's not enough, it's never enough. It matters what I see.

"Whatever you say," I tell her, then reprimand myself for mentioning anything about my body image. I didn't want to let any of the nurses know about my eating disorder, in case they make me eat like they did in the center. Hopefully she keeps this to herself.

"Do you know Sierra?" she asks me curiously.

"No, never seen her before, but I bet anything she recognizes me," I open up.

"How so?"

I sigh. She looks to be in her forties, so unless she has kids, I doubt she'll care. "I'm in a band. We just toured with One Direction."

"Oh, my daughter use to love them! But she's at that age where if it becomes popular, she refuses to be associated with it, thinking it's uncool," she laughs.

"Has she ever mentioned 5 Seconds of Summer?" I ask, filled with dread, hoping this nurse won't say anything to her daughter.

"Never heard of the name, is that your band?" I nod my head. "So there must be five of you, I assume," she says, making me laugh the smallest laugh ever.

"There's actually four of us," I say, and that makes her laugh. We talk for a little bit longer and I've calmed down nearly all the way when she asks me, "Do you want to come to the main room with the others or would you rather stay here?"

I let her know that I'd rather stay here, and she tells me to come to the nurse's station if I need anything.

"Don't worry about Sierra by the way," she says while walking away. She reaches the door and turns around. "She's only here for three more hours." Then, Lena's gone.

I don't leave my room for a while, trying to avoid Sierra. Even if she is a chill fan, I don't have it in me to interact with someone who recognizes me. I'd rather be left alone, left unknown by anyone.

Eventually, the boredom outweighs my fears and I make my way out to the main room. It's an open area with tables for eating and other activities, as well as couches surrounding a TV. I slowly take a seat next to a man who seems to be taking up a lot of space with his arms. He nods at me but goes back to watching what's on the TV, which seems to be the news. A boy and girl that weren't from the group I was in are playing cards while another girl from my group is on an exercise bike. There's another one available and it's calling my name, but I stay where I'm seated. I haven't ate a lot these past two weeks, and I definitely don't want to pass out in part of the hospital. That just means a longer stay.

After a few minutes of watching the TV, someone takes a seat next to me. I try not to look out of courtesy, knowing I wouldn't want someone to look at me right now. I look like a mess.

"Is your last name Hemmings?" The person asks. I look over and see Sierra staring into my eyes. I actually take a moment and decide if I'm going to lie or not, but then come to terms that my accent is a big give away and decide to be honest.

I nod my head, and she seems to be excited but sad at the same time. "Can I have a hug?" she asks me, and sends me back to moments of meeting fans at my worst but smiling through it anyways. I do the same for her.

"Sure," I say, and reach out to hug her, even though having someone feel my body is the last thing I want to do. When she lets go, she asks me, "So is this where you've been? You've been gone for a while."

I don't feel comfortable talking to her so I just shrug in response.

"You're not very talkative anymore, are you? You use to be so chatty two years ago." And, yikes, she really is a fan. Her words make me cringe, knowing damn well I've crawled into a shell in the last two years. What she doesn't know is that I'm being quiet because of her.

I stay silent.

"Well, I'm leaving soon, so like, uh, could you possibly sign my journal?" she asks, pulling a journal out from behind her. I sigh, not wanting to do this right now. Although hearing her confirm that she'll be leaving soon does help the anxiety building up in me dissipate again.

"Only if you don't tell anyone you saw me here," I tell her, she she nods her head rapidly. I grab her journal and open to a random page. At the top of the page, it says DAYS WITHOUT BURNING: 11. I look up at her, really looking at her this time. She looks even younger than me. She's wearing a thin long sleeve shirt, one that you can see through a little bit. You can see the wrap around her left arm. I don't blame her for wanting to cover up, I find my recent marks to be atrocious, I don't want anyone seeing them.

It makes me feel bad, being so fearful of her. She's just like me. Maybe not the same, but we have similarities. I write out don't give up and then sign my name.

"Thanks Luke," she tells me excitedly. I only nod. She seems to get that I want to be alone because she gets up and leaves. I can feel her stare from across the room, but then I hear a nurse call for her, saying she needs to sign discharge papers. I take a deep breath, not realising I had been holding my breath.

"You okay?" the guy taking up space with his arms asks me.

"Yeah I'm just, yeah. I'm good, thanks," I mumble out.

"It's okay not to be okay here, you know? Think of this as a break from your real life. You don't have to put on a show for anyone because you don't know anyone here," he says to me, which is great advice actually.

"What did you say your name was again?" I ask, not remembering from when he said it in group.

"Jim," he says with a smile, "and it's Luke, right?" I nod my head. "So do you live around here or are you visiting? Your accent sounds Australian to me."

"I'm... visiting," I divulge, but go no further, not wanting to talk about anything at the moment.

He senses that as well and puts an end to the conversation, saying, "Well, it's nice to meet you," and focusing back on the news.

I pretend to watch the news but really listen in to the conversations around me. The two playing cards are chatting about cats. The girl wishes she wasn't allergic because cats are her favourite animal.

I listen in to another conversation.

"I can't wait for lunch, they're gonna give us grilled cheese. Grilled cheese is my favorite, man," a boy says.
"I don't like grilled cheese," a girl says.
"How can you not like grilled cheese? It's toast and cheese! What's better than that?" Another girl says.
"Literally anything else," the original girl says with a laugh.

I tune out there because, fuck, lunch.

What the hell have I gotten myself into? What are they going to do if I don't eat? Will they recommend me to an eating disorder center? No, they couldn't, I weigh too much right now. Those are only for people who need to be weight restored. Maybe they'd put me in an outpatient center.

Haha... fuck. What have I done.