How long have I been in here? I don't even know anymore. There's nothing to really look at, and no clocks. It's so quiet too, and the only smell is disinfectant... This must be sensory deprivation... There's just 4 white walls, with white floors and a white ceciling. The sheets on this hospital bed are white, too, just like the gowns they make me wear. Even the bathroom, everything's white. I'm itching for any color at all, even bright yellow.

The polish is mostly flaked away from my nails, taking the last of the color in this room with it. Funnily enough, most of that wasn't really even color... I mean, can you really consider black a color? I mean, I have never seen a colorful zebra, have you? Now that I remember it, doing that pattern took me forever.

They keep me tied to the bed here. It's not like I'm going to try to kill myself or anything. I don't even have anything to try with. They come in, I'm guessing 3 times a day, and force me to eat. They tell me that if I don't eat like a 'normal' person, then they'll have to use needles. They're none too gentle with those things, lemme tell you. At least, I assume its 3 times a day. I wouldn't be able to tell if it were night or day, considering this room has no windows. Not that I'd care, being stuck in here.

I just want to get out of here. I want them to stop forcing those pills down my throat too. They make me so sick, so tired, but so hyped. You know what it's like when you're dead tired, but you can't fall asleep? I feel like that every day of my life, for the past I don't know how long, however long its been since they've locked me here.

If I stay in here any longer, I'll go insane. Well, more insane. Is that even possible?

Great, now my fucking wrists are starting to hurt. Again. even if I tell them that I'm in pain, they won't do a single fucking thing to help. If I'm lucky, they'll tell me that there's nothing that they can do, or maybe if I'm a really lucky bastard, then they'll tell me that they'll ask the doctor. But I know that I won't get anything that'll actually help me, because it isn't part of my 'plan'. This plan is some shit the doctors have come up with in here...Without my knowing what it is, of course.

Oh, I never did tell you what happens if I'm unlucky, did I? I get yelled at, and told that it's my fault, I shouldn't have done it, all things I already know. Or maybe even, "Isn't that what I wanted?"

Isn't it obvious by now that I just want to get out of here? But this hospital has the stupidest fucking policy of life that says that if I want to get out of here within the next 6 months, someone has to be willing to take responsibility for me. But the thing is, there's no one. My family doesn't give a shit about me. After the hell they put me through, the moment I turned 18, I told them "fuck you!" and walked out. They fucking deserved it, anyways.

I haven't seen them since then. But it doesn't stop them from constantly calling and emailing and shit, forever trying to bring me down. Can't they tell that I just want them to go the fuck away already? I don't want anything else to do with them, ever.

Before, I would've wondered whether Andy or Sandra would be willing to take me. But I know they won't. Neither will Jake, and even ol' Smellybones, my last resort, won't. I wonder what happened to my dogs. I hope they haven't been kicked onto the street, or thrown to the pound. I'd fucking die if that happened. They're like my kids...

I wonder how these cuts are healing? Stupid fucker of a doctor told me that I can be treated "normally" after they heal... Normally meaning that I don't have to be tied down to the bed and watched while showering... I haven't seen them in over a week, and it's not like I can just take the bandages off now to see them, now can I? Last time I saw them, they definitely weren't looking good.

I remember the guys (Sandra included) said that if anything like this happened again, they weren't going to be saving my ass again, because I should've learned my lesson. I wasn't like I didn't try... I did....I really did... But they've probably already found my replacement.

Ashley was torn from his thoughts as he heard the door opening. Great, probably more fucking pills Instead, the restraints holding him to the bed were undone. Before he had a moment of relief, however, he was promptly placed into a straitjacket. The two orderlies who had come in were then shoving him out the door, leading him up one hallway and down another, through doorways, moving him so fast that he almost stumbled several times, not having him arms free to balance himself.

Soon enough, he was in a doctors office. The chair was turned away from him, and he couldn't see who he was dealing with. He hoped it wasn't the same asshole doctor he'd had to deal with the last time. He was shoved into a chair by one of the orderlies, while the other one said, "He's here, sir."

"Thanks, now go." The voice said, sounding mildly distracted. Even so, it sounded familiar to Ashley. It couldn't be who he thought it was, could it? The orderlies quickly left, shutting the door behind them. Then, the chair turned, confirming the bassists suspicions-and fears. His eyes flew wide open in shock, and even though he hadn't used his voice in a while, he whispered, "Davey?"

"The one and only." Well, this was fucking embarassing!

"Don't worry, I'm just here, moonlighting for a while... They had a job, I had a degree, it all works out." Davey said, catching the look of worry on the other man's face. "Now what happened?"

"I don't even know..." Ashley whispered, before he asked, "How long has it been?"

"2 months."

"What?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you go home with Sandra? I know she always takes care of you..." Davey said, looking at Ashley with concern. "She said that the next time something like this happened, that she wouldn't bail me out. The others said pretty much the same thing too."

"Damn... You're actually a pretty good guy, and I like you. I know that you're not a fucking looney who can't even be trusted alone for a half a second. But you just can't go on like you are..."

"You read my file, didn't you?"

"Comes with the job, unfortunately. I can't stand to see you just waste away in here, so I'll make a deal with you. What if I convince one of your bandmates to take you home?"

Ashley nearly fell out of his seat. "Y-You'd do that?"

"One condition though. The cutting stops. And, you have to take therapy. If you start cutting again, you're stuck coming back. I don't know everything there is to know about this situation, but talking to you as a friend, it's gone on too long. I've known you maybe a few years, and I always thought that you had stopped... Speaking as a professional, it's a dangerous behavior, and must be stopped immediately."

Ashley let it sink in for a moment. He didn't particularly like the terms of it, but it was his ticket to freedom. Who knows when he might get another chance like this? "Okay." he said.

True to his word, Davey had contacted the other members of the band.

"Aww, come on!" He yelled, slamming down the phone so hard that he swore that the base probably cracked. Then, to add onto his unfortunate situation, his next-door neighbor, the toerag whose name Davey couldn't be arsed to remember, and had no inclination to remember either, decided to throw open the door, and waltz in like he owned the fucking place, unannounced. "Dr. Marchand, is everything okay in here?" The toerag asked, raising an eyebrow at the singer. Was his tattoos showing again? He hoped not!

"No, no, everything's fine."

"Then why did I hear a crash?"

Just leave it up to that asshole to be all up in other people's business. I was wearing underwear when I left the house this morning, so I don't fucking need you up my goddamn ass! Davey thought flippantly, directing his frustration towards the man in front of him. The ugly, balding, graying, obese, scum of the earth standing in front of him who he would like to beat the living daylights out of and leave to die in a pit filled with- "Ahem!"

Oh joy, it coughed. Does this mean it's going to die soon?

"Sorry about that, I got lost in thought for a moment. And as far as the crash, I accidentally dropped the telephone."

"DO you get lost in thought all that often?"

Now it was peering over its glasses at him. "No, I just didn't get much sleep last night."

"Is this a normal thing for you? Because there's medication for that, you know Yeah, there seems to be meds for everything. Are there any meds to make you stop being such a stupid bastard? Davey's thoughts drowned out the rest of the man's sentence.

"No, it's not a normal thing, the neighbor's dog wouldn't stop barking. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some work to get on with." The singer said, making a half-hearted wave at the folders on his desk.

"Alright then, good to see such an enthusiastic young man!" The toerag said, leaving the room. Poor Davey nearly threw up at this last comment however.

But back to the reason that he had nearly broken the crappy ass phone?

Four failures in a row.

He'd started with Jake.

"Hey Jake?"

"Hey, Davey!" Jake had sounded pretty upbeat.

"How's life treating you?"

"Pretty good, and yourself?"

"Great, thanks. Hey man, I have a favor to ask outta you."

"Well ask away then!"

"Would you be willing to put up with Ashley for a week or so?"

There was a sigh, before Jake said, "Listen, I don't know if he's told you already or not, but I've already made it clear that I don't want to be a part of his self-destruction anymore."

"Oh. Sorry about that, I didn't know you already told him."

"Eh, not your fault, you didn't know. Just don't ask again."

"Ok. Bye, then."

"Bye."

Davey had hung up. That still left 3 other people, maybe 4. Depends on whether they could get CC to agree on it. Sure, he wasn't in the band, but whatever, he was still a techie or whatever, right? He usually filled in for Sandra whenever she was unable to perform...

After several tries, Davey finally got through.

"Who the fuck is this?!?" Was the first thing out of CC's mouth.

"Davey Havok."

"Well, I was fuckin' sleepin'!"

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea. I thought that you would already be awake since it's noon."

"Whatever dude. And whatever you wanted to call me up to harass me over better be fucking good or else you're getting a size 11 shoe up your ass, got it?"

"Well, I'm not sure if it's good, but it's important..." Davey said, unsure of whether he would have to run like hell or be left with a shoeprint on his derriere.

"If it's more important than my fuckin' sleep, then just spit it out!"

"Long story short, Ashley-" was as far as he was able to get before CC interrupted with

"Fuck no! Fuck no! Do you fuckin' hear me over there? I said fuck no! Fuck to the no! If you do anything, I'll scream rape! R-A-P-E! Cuz ya did something even after I told yo skank ass no!"

Before Davey was able to get a word in edgewise, he was promptly hung up on, and was forced to remove the headpiece from his traumatized ear. When CC was hungover, and woken up, he sure was a loud, bitch son of a gun! "Three more fuckers." So far, this morning wasn't going well...

When he called Jinxx up, it was only slightly better than with CC. The biggest difference was that his ass wasn't threatened by shoes, and he wasn't cursed out nearly half as much.

"Heya."

"Whosit?"

"Davey Havok."

"Whaddaya want?"

"I was wondering if you'd be able to do me a favor?"

"Watsit?"

"I was wondering if you'd be willing to help me with Ashley."

"Nah, dude...Just nah...I fuckin' told him dude..."

"Alright. Sorry for waking you up." Davey said, hanging up, to allow the other to sleep off his hangover. Then, he called Sandra.

"Hi, Sandra!"

"Hi, Davey."

"Haven't spoken to you in a while. How;ve you been?"

"Eh, life's ok, how about yours?"

"Great, thanks. Hey, I was wondering if you could do me a favor?"

"Maybe. What is it?"

"I was wondering if you could take care of Ashley for like a week."

"Listen, Davey, I'm sorry, but no. I don't know if he's told you, but I told him to please not come back asking for my help until he kicks this habit. I don't hate him, I love him to pieces in fact. He's like a brother, but the thing is, I just can't sit here and see him tearing himself apart piece by piece, and knowing fully well that there isn't a single thing I can do to stop him."

"No, he didn't mention anything to me about it. In fact, he didn't even ask about me calling you, I was the one who said that I'd do it." He hoped that the lie wouldn't read through his voice. He never was a good liar.

There was a moment of silence, before Sandra said, "Alright."

"Sandra, I'm sorry that I had to bother you with this. If I had known that you'd already made your mind up about it, I wouldn't have wasted your time."

"It's fine. Just leave it at that, alright?"

"Alright."

Then, she had hung up.

That was the incident that had led Davey to trying to murder his poor phone. But now, he realized, there was one last option left before he was stuck trying to rip his hair out by the roots. The man known as Andy Six.