A satisfying sigh of relief escaped his lips at her affirmation of handling the new guy Adam. The feeling didn't linger long though. She was right; It<i>was </i>a very serious situation and he understood that there would likely be consequences for his actions in some fashion or another. If he was being honest, the whole ordeal irked him. He had been provoked and aggressively beckoned physically by Adam, yet he was the one that would likely bear the brunt of the punishment. Still, he couldn't voice such things, not even to Dr. Prescott.<br/><br/>He shifted in his seat as she began to speak again. Being confined to his room wasn't the worst thing that she could have said. Sure, he didn't have access to the television there but Trevor had a small collection of novels that he could use to occupy himself.<br/><br/>"Understood," he said obediently. The drugs that had been administered to him had made him docile. Such a punishment may have gotten his blood boiling on an ordinary day, but in that particular moment he was left void of any aggression. Trevor responded to her last comment with a simple nod of his head.<br/><br/>Half-lidded eyes peered down at the small notebook she had placed in his hands and he flipped it from one side to the other, examining the build of it. He thumbed through the blank pages; the book was neither college nor wide ruled. The pages were simply white with nothing on them and no margins to contain the words he would write. Perhaps it was a kind of metaphor or some sort of foreshadowing of the vehement script he'd eventually fill the book with.<br/><br/>"Yes, Dr. Prescott," he responded and rose to his feet as she stood. "I can do that. Thank you."<br/><br/>Ralph entered the room and Trevor took some joy in Dr. Prescott's rebuke of the pudgy man. His eyes lingered on the doctor, perhaps a bit too long before she was forced out of his sight and he was escorted down the hallway.<br/><br/>"Fucking bitch," Ralph muttered under his breath, making sure that they were far out earshot of Jessica. He pushed on the small of Trevor's back, urging him forward and causing him to stumble a bit before recovering. "Hurry up," he hissed. "She thinks she owns this place, but she doesn't."<br/><br/>"You shouldn't talk about her like that," Trevor said in response as they came upon his door.<br/><br/>"You listen to me," Ralph ordered before spinning Trevor around to face him. "You might think that you're her little puppy or charity case or whatever, but listen up! She may have the power to pull you in for conversations. You can tell her the problems you have and list everyone you think has wronged you in here, but at the end of the day, I run this shit!" Trevor fell against the door, Ralph looming over him as if he were a much taller and larger man than he actually was. "She can't save you in here, so I suggest you don't burn any bridges, do you understand?"<br/><br/>Under the influence of medication, Trevor nodded obediently. "Good, now get in your room, you're on lock down." Trevor slid in through his door and shut it behind him.<br/><br/>Trevor roomed alone, which was a good thing because his room was a little on the smaller side. After filling it with a bed, and small desk which sat in the corner, there wasn't a lot of free space for much else. He took a seat at the desk and reached for a pen. Trevor scribbled his name just inside the front cover of the book before flipping to the first blank page. His hand began to write:<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'">January 19, 2018<br/>
<br/>
<s>Jessica</s><i> Doctor Prescott gave me this notebook to write in. I assume it is so that she has some sort of written record of how I'm feeling and when I am feeling that way. I'm not sure if I like the idea or not. The anger is bad enough when it rears its head. Having to write it down makes it seem more real I guess. Half the time I get angry, I black out and can't remember it. Writing it down here is like the physical manifestation of it. I don't like that at all.</i><br/>
</span></i>​</div>Trevor lay the pen down on the page and folded the front cover closed over it before standing up. He walked into his bathroom and turned on the sink faucet, filling up his cupped hands before splashing his face. He felt alone now and staring into the mirror made him realize the he<i>was </i>alone. He had no one to talk to other than Dr. Prescott and she had already said she wouldn't see him for a few more days. What they had wasn't real. It was a profession relationship. She didn't truly care for him, but why would she? The thoughts were frustrating.<br/><br/>He entered back into his room and lay on the bed, pulled a blanket up over his frame and shut his eyes. He was drained physically, but more so mentally. Sleep came fast for the young man.