Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or the characters. All rights go to the creators.

Summary: Scott is committed to Eichen House after his mother catches him in the bathroom with a razor blade poised over his wrist. Eichen House, although known for its "outstanding" cure rate, Scott is sure that they are hiding something.

Eichen House. Echo House. The Nut House. The Looney Bin. No matter what term was used, it didn't make the leering tower of a hospital any less intimidating. The ten foot fence that surrounded the grounds was like a warning to stay away. It didn't help that it had an automatic locking gate.
Scott wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and gave a shaky sigh. His mind was in an utter state of panic; he couldn't believe that this was happening to him. His thoughts were still stuck on the fact that his own mother had called an ambulance to "escort" him to the local mental institution. Scott had done nothing remotely crazy or insane, not in his books anyway.

Sure, his mother had found him in the bathroom with a razor blade poised over his wrists, but he hadn't acted on the urge that said it was okay if he bled out. But now, as he thought it over again, he would've sliced open his wrist if his mother hadn't walked in; since his father had left several months ago, and his girlfriend Caitlyn, had dumped him for a girl, Scott hadn't exactly been the happiest person around.

The EMT's escorted him through the gates and up the steps. Waiting at the front entrance was a pretty woman with dark brown hair that fell down to her shoulders in subtle curls. She wore a white coat overtop a simple black dress, a clipboard in hand.
"Scott McCall," she said, more of a statement than a question. She held out her hand, which he took and firmly shook.
"Follow me," she said. She pushed open the main door, ushering him inside. The foyer was a dull beige color that was several shades off from the beige of the bricks that made up the building. They took a left turn through a set of double doors and entered a very clean, very colorless hall.

He felt extremely dirty as he walked down the white, pristine hall. There were other patients wondering about in these halls; some talking to themselves, some dancing to music only they could here, and some were staring off into the abyss. It freaked him out to some extent, almost like he was walking through a haunted house, expecting and waiting for something to jump out at him.

"I'm sure you'll be very comfortable here, Scott," Dr. Blake said, in attempt at drawing his attention away from the patients.
"Yeah, I'm sure," he muttered, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He kept his gaze straight ahead to avoid unnecessary contact with Dr. Blake or any of the patients. In his peripheral vision, he saw Dr. Blake looking at him, a slight frown on her face. She turned her eyes away from him and they continued to walk down the hall in an uncomfortable silence.

Once they had passed through the adult ward, they turned left and came upon a set of swinging double doors. Labelled in black letters across frosted glass windows was "Youth Ward". Dr. Blake pushed open the door and ushered Scott through the doors into a hallway that was painted the palest of greens. Like the adult ward, the patients were wondering around, but something about them seemed less intimidating to Scott. Perhaps it was the fact that they were all around the same age as him.

"Now, about-" She was cut off midsentence by a sharp buzzing , Dr. Blake sighed and rummaged around in her coat pocket, pulling out a pager. She glanced at her pager and sighed, shoved it in her pocket and glance back up at Scott, an apologetic smile on her face. "I'm sorry. I would show you around the place, but I have to deal with a patient on the secure word."

Scott shrugged. He really couldn't care less at the moment. He heard Dr. Blake sigh and turned to leave, but stopped mid step and waved over a boy about Scott's age.
"Stiles, this is Scott, he's new here and I was wondering if you'd like to show him around."
"Sure," Stiles said, shrugging, "Why not?" He was thin, but no overly so. He had brown eyes that would have been warm if it weren't for the dark circles that sat underneath, making them look hollow. His hair was severely tousled, as though he had just rolled out of bed. Scott couldn't help but notice how his fingers constantly twitched and wiggled like he had been electrocuted. He reminded Scott of a hyper active squirrel searching for nuts.

He trailed a step behind Stiles as he led Scott down the hall to a common area. Unlike the pristine shine of the hallways, the common room seemed cozy- homey even. The walls were painted a shade of blue that were supposed to be calming Scott guessed. One wall was entirely composed of windows that overlooked a courtyard filled with flowers. The sitting area was composed of a beige leather sofa and armchairs. A dark wooden TV stand with a 32" television atop stood across from the sofa.
"So, this is the common room," Stiles exclaimed, "This is where the majority of us spend most of the day." Scott had to admit that it wasn't as bad as he had thought it would be. If it weren't for the fact that there was a nurse's station positioned in one corner of the room, he thought it was a good community center setting. Maybe that's what they were aiming for.

The patients in the room were busying themselves with games, or having conversations with themselves, or simply staring into space. There was one patient that caught Scott's eye though. Scott didn't know if it was the way he was isolating himself from the other patients, or the fact that he seemed more like he could be twenty five than eighteen. He sat facing the wall of windows, a deck of cards laid out before him. Stiles noticed him looking.

"That's Derek," he said, "He's new here too. He's only been here a couple of weeks, but I would avoid him. From what I overheard, he has a major bad case of paranoia and he suffers from IED."
"What's that," Scott asked.
"Intermittent Explosive Disorder," Stiles explained, "It's not as funny as it sounds. It has to do with like sudden outbursts of rage." For a patient, Stiles knew a lot about other mental illnesses other than the one he was diagnosed with.

"How do you even know about this," Scott asked.
"Dr. Blake let me borrow a copy of the Diagnostic and Statistic manual. It gives me something to do when my insomnia is really bad." He paused, glanced away from Scott and then suddenly looked back at him. "Have you checked in with the nurses," he asked. Scott shook his head.

"You should probably do that then. They're the ones that give out room assignments, and also this stylish uniform," Stiles chuckled, gesturing to his white T-shirt, pale green pants, and beige slippers.
Scott headed over to the nurse's station which was in the farthest corner of the room so that it overlooked the entire common area and the hall that led down to the rooms.

The nurse that sat at the desk behind a sliding glass window was Asian and had dark, shiny hair that was pinned up into a bun. He thought that she seemed relatively young to be a nurse, but what did he know?
"Hi," he said sheepishly. The nurse glanced up an gave him a warm smile.
"You must be Scott," she said, getting up from her chair. "Come with me." She exited the nurse's station and he followed her into a side room adjacent to the nurse's station. She glanced at him, sizing him up.

"Are you a medium or a large," she asked.
"Medium." She handed him a folded set of clothes and threw a pair of beige slippers onto the floor. She pointed at his shoes.
"No laces allowed," she stated. Scott kicked off his sneakers and stepped into the slippers. She grabbed his shoes and placed them on a shelf in the room.

"You don't have a belt, do you," she asked gently. Scott shook his head. She headed back behind the desk and sat back down in the chair. She focused her eyes on the computer momentarily and then glanced back up at him.
"Do you have any personal items on you; phone, keys, wallet; anything like that?" Reluctantly, he handed over his phone and his keys; his wallet he had left at home. She slipped them into a clear plastic bag and wrote his name on it in black Sharpie.
"Don't worry," she reassured, a small smile on her face, "These will be stored in a locked, secure place."

He was assigned to room 215. The room contained two beds, both neatly made with pristine white sheets and dark blue covers. A single bedside table with a modern lamp sat in between the beds and beneath a window that overlooked a basketball court. Scott wasn't sure which bed to take; he didn't know if he'd be sharing the room. It was very bare.
"Stiles, is anyone else in this room," he asked.

"Yeah, I think Isaac has this room," Stiles said, his voice trailing off. He ran through his already dishevelled hair. "I can introduce you to him and everyone else, if you want."
Scott thought that Stiles was being extremely kind by going out of his way to introduce Scott to everyone, not including Derek. He met Erica and Allison, who both seemed rather broody; Stiles later explained that they both suffered from Clinical Depression. Then there was Danny, who had to say every second word twice. Then there was Malia, who was almost as thin as a skeleton; Bulimia at its worst.

He introduced Scott to Isaac last. Like Derek, Isaac had chosen to isolate himself from the other patients. He was curled up in one of the armchairs, seemingly asleep.
"Maybe we should leave him be," Scott whispered. Ignoring Scott's words, Stiles shook Isaac awake, practically yelling at him to wake up.
Isaac jumped, his eyes flying open, clearly startled. He glared at Stiles momentarily before turning his attention to Scott.
"Who are you," he demanded quietly, staring at him with piercing blue eyes.
"I'm Scott, your roommate," he said. He stuck out his hand, which Isaac flinched away from before timidly taking his hand in return.
"Nice to meet you."

Scott spent the afternoon with Stiles, who he found was a sarcastic, joke-cracker, and Isaac, who he thought seemed good natured but very introverted. Stiles' attitude, considering the place he was in, was exceptionally optimistic, Scott thought. It made him feel slightly less miserable.

As dinner rolled around, he was surprised to find out that the food was surprisingly good. The variety they had was pretty good too.
There was one thought that kept nagging on his brain.
"So where are the orderlies," he asked, "I never saw any around."

"Trust me," Stiles said around a mouthful of food, "They're around, you just don't notice. They're kind of like shadows."
Suddenly, there was an eardrum shattering scream that echoed off the walls of the cafeteria. Scott flinched and glanced down the long table. All eyes were turned towards a girl with red hair that he didn't recognize.

"Someone's dying," she cried, "Someone's dying." She jolted to her feet, sending her chair skittering back. As if out of thin air, two men dressed in white T-shirts and black jeans appeared. They grabbed her by the elbows, turned her and dragged her out of the cafeteria, screaming all the way.
There was a moment of silence before everyone returned to their meal and the chatter resumed.
"What was that about," Scott demanded. Isaac glanced up from his plate and stared Scott in the eyes.
"Lydia's a schizophrenic; she freaks out a lot," he explained. "It's just that…when she says someone is dying…she's usually right."

A/N: So there's the first chapter! Hope you all enjoy! Tell me what you think; should I continue? Reviews are welcomed and appreciated.