A/N: This was written for my English 15B class, AKA Creative Fiction Writing. Inspiration was taken from Netflix's 'To The Bone' and captaincassian 's 'Camp Mental'. Character Nurse Jackie was borrowed from ABC's 'Red Band Society'.

captaincassian currently is working on the sequel, 'Kaleidoscope' and the series is absolutely amazing! Go give them both a read!

Since this was written for a class where my teacher knows I love Star Wars and we weren't allowed to write fanfiction I had to change the names, but there are plain new characters.

Leigh= Rey

Ben= Ben Solo/Kylo Ren

Gwen= Phasma

Phineas= Finn

Rosie= Rose

Dr. Oscar= Named after Poe, but inpsired by Dr. Beckham

Leigh's POV

"Leigh, we know this wasn't your first... attempt," My mother hesitates, as she holds my hand, sitting next to in a white plastic chair, as a lay in the cold hospital bed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I turn my head and see a doctor approaching, she knocks on the white door, although I am already sitting up and looking right at her.

"Come in," my mother answers for me.

"Hi Leigh, I'm Dr. Johanna," she smiles and continues to my bedside in the stuffy room. "I have a question for you that I have already discussed with your mother and the social worker. Your mother has decided to let you choose what happens next." She pauses and glances at my mother, then back at me. "Leigh, we understand-"

No, they don't. The taunting voice in my head, who had been there for the past few years, interrupts her. No one understands you, freak.

Dr. Johanna couldn't hear the voice, so she continues, "this isn't your first suicide attempt-"

"It was an accident," I stick to the story I had told everyone, who dared mention the truth.

She sighs, "you can't explain how you accidentally swallowed multiple pills of all different sorts and-"

"I went through your search history," my mother interrupts her, "this was premeditated, Leigh. This is your life you are ruining. Do you really want to die?" I think back to looking up what amount of pills are lethal and what shouldn't be mixed. I should have cleared my history.

I scoff softly and look at my lap, "isn't that what you both are saying?"

"Don't try to turn this around," my mother says with a warning tone.

"Yes," I look up at her, "I want to die," I say without the slightest hint of emotion.

That's right, Leigh. Kill yourself. She's only acting like she cares.

My mother swallows hard and purses her lips. She gets up and leaves me alone in the all white hospital room with Dr. Johanna, who remains standing at the bedside. She glances down at her clipboard. "Since you turn seventeen in a few days, your mother said for you to make the decision on where to live. There is a mental health facility or a group home."

You won't even make it to the age of seventeen.

I scoff and chuckle to myself. "So either a mental hospital or into a camp of kids 'just like me'-"

"No," she cuts me off, "the group home is for teenagers in your age range, also dealing with mental health issues, such as eating and mood disorders."

I sigh, "I guess I'll do the group home."

"Okay, we will be releasing you tomorrow afternoon and your social worker will escort you there," she writes something done on her clipboard, then smiles at me.

- - -

I pull up to the dark green, wood panel house surrounded by growing trees and bushes. If it wasn't for the woman in the bright, hot pink nurse's scrubs on the porch, the house could have blended into the fresh, crisp greenery, and maybe have passed as a normal home with a poor choice of paint.

The social worker in a pantsuit wreaking of lavender grabs my black bag from the trunk and rolls it to me. I take it from her and walk up the sidewalk towards the dark skinned, heavy set nurse.

"I'm guessing you're Leigh right?" The nurse asks. I give a small nod and wait at the bottom of the two steps. "I'm Nurse Jackie," I give another nod, "Well come on, child."

I walk up the steps and my footsteps echo on the wooden porch, making my presence known.

Nurse Jackie opens the door for me and the social worker and the house gives a warm, friendly vibe and smells of lemon based cleaning products. "Dr. Issac?" Nurse Jackie calls out.

Footsteps sound off the walls as a set of feet hurry down the stairs. "Dr. Issac's talking with Michael," a girl informs us, as she makes her way to a stop on the last wooden step.

"Well, Rosie, would you mind giving your new roommate, Leigh, a tour of the house?" Nurse Jackie asks.

"Yeah, sure!" Rosie hops off the last step and fixes the strap on her red dress.

"Do you mind waiting in the kitchen?" Nurse Jackie addresses the social worker who gives a small, silent nod and they walk off together.

"I'm Rosie," she sticks her hand out towards me.

Don't let her cheerful face fool you. She's already judging you.

"Leigh," I shake her hand.

"I'll show you to our room first," she nods back towards the wooden staircase, "we have another roommate. Her name is Gwen, she's a major germaphobe and is totally OCD, so make sure you don't touch her stuff and use the hand santazier."

"Note to self."

We reach the top of the staircase and there is only three doorways, two of which are missing doors.

"That's the bathroom," She points to the one with the door on the left.

Check for pills.

"Boys room," she points to the right doorway without a door. Rosie peeks her small head in and I follow her lead glancing into the room. There's two boys inside, one asleep and one reading. "Hey Ben," Rosie greets him.

Ben glances up from his book for a moment with his jet black hair falling into his pale face, then looks back down.

He already doesn't like you.

"This is Leigh," she attempts to introduce us, but he continues ignoring her. We back out of the doorway. "The sleeping one is Phineas." She goes into the final doorway, "and this is our room."

"Hand santazier," a girl, I assume to be Gwen, says as we enter.

You're so forgetful, so worthless.

Rosie grabs the hand santazier off a shelf near the door and I stick my free hand out. She squirts a drop in mine, then her own hand. "That's your bed," she nods to the one against the plain white wall with a bare brown chest at the foot of the bed. "Leigh, Gwen. Gwen, Leigh."

"Nice to meet you," Gwen says, as I set my bag down on the bed and rub in the santazier.

"Same," I mumble.

Is it nice, Leigh? She is already judging your hair cut.

I glance up to see Gwen drawing in a notebook with color pencils. She has a short blonde pixie cut, that almost blends into her skin, and a medium frame draped in a pastel blue sweater and black jeans. She contrasts from Rosie's black bob that matches her perfectly toned olive skin, as if she spent yesterday sunbathing.

Rosie sits down on the bed and the strap of her dress falls off her small frame again. She catches me staring and fixes her strap, "So, what are you in here for? You don't look like you have an eating disorder."

"Pardon her bluntness," Gwen shoots her a look of annoyance, "she can be very straight forward."

Gwen's annoyed because of you. She wishes you were dead. Everyone here does.

"I ugh," I swallow hard and sit down on the bed, "I tried to kill myself." I look at my hands starting to twist together in my hand.

"Oh," Rosie says softly, "Dr. Issac says I'm slowing killing myself," I glance up to look at her. "I'm anorexic," she informs me, which explains why she is so small.

You should try that since you're so overweight.

I glance to my size 5 self and tug on my short length brown hair.

"Leigh?" Rosie asks looking at me like I missed a question.

"Sorry, I was just-" I motion to my head, "thinking."

- - -

At dinner, I'm introduced to Michael, who has really bad social anxiety to the point that he has a panic attack at dinner and is excused, and Phineas, who has bulimia and seems the most normal here, even though he sits chatting with Rosie as they both avoid eating, and nervously glance at Nurse Jackie every couple of minutes.

I pick at the fried chicken on my plate, eating the dry skin mainly, and mash my already mashed potatoes that I've mixed my corn into.

You don't deserve to eat. My stomach rumbles softly.

"I'm done eating," I announce pushing my plate away, "may I be excused to get some air?" I ask Nurse Jackie.

"Sure, hun. Just come back in when it's time for group chat."

I get up and take my plate into the kitchen, setting it down in the sink.

Hey look a knife. I stare at the knife, then glance over my shoulder to see no one. Want to shut me up? I glance back to the knife. All it takes is a stab to the heart or the long slit of a wrist. It's your choice, Leigh. I pick up the knife. You want to silence me? I walk outside with the knife in hand.

There's a wooden picnic table and a small flower garden lined with daisies in perfect rows. I walk off the wooden porch and down the stairs on to the green yard that smells like fresh cut grass. I cross the yard and take a spot at the picnic table facing away from the house, leaning against the table portion.

I look at the regular dinner knife and throw it to the ground, watching it stick into the ground with it's handle in the air.

Try doing that into your foot.

I take a shaky breath and pull the knife from the ground.

See how easy it was to get a hold of something sharp? Imagine how easy it will be to end it all here in this home of the mental.

The door leading to the backyard slams shut and I jump startled, dropping the knife to the grass.

I look over to see Ben sitting down on the porch steps. He suddenly glances up and stands when we make eye contact.

"Why are you here?" He asks walking over.

"I just wanted to be by myself," I push the knife with my foot under the table hoping he doesn't see it and take it away.

"No, why are you here in the home?" He clarifies and flops down making the wood creak next to me, "I'm curious because Rosie says you keep spacing out and noticing things at random."

I huff at Rosie's lack of privacy and look at my lap, "You think I'm crazy," I tell him.

"I don't think you're crazy, Rosie probably does, I mean she just called me crazy-"

"I am crazy," I chuckle at myself.

Finally you admit it.

"That's okay, I am too," Ben leans against the table, "you see, I hear a voice inside my head, not like my conscience, but like a bully."

"You have a voice too?" I ask, leaning up and away from the table.

"So you have a voice?" He looks at me.

He's doing this so he can make fun of you.

"I um, no, I don't," I begin twisting my fingers together in my lap.

"Leigh," Ben says, but I ignore him, refusing to look. "Leigh," he places a friendly hand on my knee and my attention draws to it, staring at the back of his hand. "You're not alone."

I look up to his eyes. "I hear the voice too," he tells me, "I just want to let you know that, you're not alone."

I place my own hand over his. "Neither are you."

The corner of his mouth quirks up in an almost smile. "Now, I want you to tell the voice to leave you alone."

That won't work.

I remove my hand from on top of his, "that won't work."

"I think your voice told you that."

"What would you know about the voice?" I snap at him.

"That it's probably as mean as mine," I turn my head and meet his golden brown eyes, "I want to help you. I know my voice used to be awfully mean to the point of me wanting to kill myself. Just try, Leigh," he rubs his thumb on my knee, where his hand still hasn't left, "please."

"Okay," I take a deep breath and place my hand back on his, "leave me alone," I say softly.

"What?" Ben asks.

"Leave me alone," I say louder.

"Leave who alone?" Ben pushes me to say it again.

"Leave me alone!"

"Fuck off voice!" Ben shouts with a huge smile.

"Fuck off voice!" I join in smiling.

"Your voice reply to that?"

"No," I smile a smile I haven't felt in a long time.