"what are you in here for?" a young boy, not much older than my sixteen years asks me when i'm sitting waiting to get my stuff back from the strip search. "you won't get your stuff back by the way. they don't give anyone anything back. well except these" he says pulling at the dusky light blue scrubs on his body. he pulls a face as and shrugs "that's all anyone has. that and their mind. so why you here kid?" he starts to call me that, even though he only looks at least no more than a year older me.

"i told my therapist to go to hell" i say, and he laughs and then i laugh and we both just sit laughing until i can't breathe and then i'm falling to the floor and my head is spinning and i can't see anything except blurs of white and blue. the boy is standing over me, and he's holding my body still as it convulses, a sharp pain shooting to my head. i feel like i've been lying there for hours, and when it finally clears, the boy is still standing over me wtih a look of sadness in his eyes, he says "that's the medication. if you laugh too much it does this" he gestures to my body. "you get used to it, i guess" he reaches his hand out and i take it andh e pulls me to my feet, i stumble slightly and he steadies me and assures me i'm going to be okay. i think i'm going to be sick. "the names joe, and welcome to saint nicks" he smiles but his eyes are blank and i wonder just what exactly this place is.