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Chapter Eighteen
Point of View: Narrator

The Nick that sat before Dr. Haseltine on Day 7 was a completely different person than the one that had sat before him on Day 1. That had been a defiant, rebellious, angry Nick. This was a broken, silent one; a Nick with no smart-sarcastic remarks to throw at him. "How are you feeling, Nick?" Dr. Haseltine asked, readying his yellow legal pad.

Nick's eyes were downcast. "Depressed," he answered quietly, not looking at Dr. Haseltine, but at his ankles, which were, once again, showing under the cuffs of his pants. His socks matched today.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Nick," said Dr. Haseltine apologetically, "Why are you depressed?"

"Can we get phone calls and stuff here?" Nick asked, suddenly, looking up at the psychologist hopefully, "And visitors? Can I get visitors?"

"You can," replied Dr. Haseltine.

Nick's face fell and he turned away. "So... it's not that my friends can't visit me, it's that they haven't?" he asked quietly.

Dr. Haseltine made an 'aha' face and leaned forward carefully. "Is that what's been bothering you, Nick? Your friends haven't visited you yet?"

"I just --" Nick frowned, looking down at his hands. Anywhere but at Dr. Haseltine. "I'm lonely, is all." He rubbed his palms together. "I - I really wanna talk to Brian."

"You could talk to me," Dr. Haseltine suggested gently. He waited for Nick to respond, watching carefully while Nick chewed on his lower lip. When Nick hadn't answered after a couple of long moments had passed, he said, "Now you say you miss your friends, Nick, but you didn't mention your family?"

Nick let his lips drop from behind his teeth and his mouth opened a little bit, just the tips of his teeth peeking from behind his lips as he focused on breathing. He half-closed his eyes. He looked like he was in pain. Dr. Haseltine felt a surge of concern, feeling like they had hit a land mine. "I knew they wouldn't come," Nick finally managed to mutter, sounding breathless, "So it wasn't really a big surprise. It doesn't bother me."

"Why wouldn't they come, Nick?" Dr. Haseltine asked.

Nick was suddenly very interested in a loose strand of thread on his sweatpants. He twirled it between his finger tips thoughtfully. After a long pause, he glanced at Dr. Haseltine and regarded him, gliding his eyes from head to foot of the psychologist, before turning back to the thread. "Because they hate me."

Dr. Haseltine watched Nick's body language extremely closely for a moment after these words left his mouth. He seemed cold for a moment as he tightened his arms to his body, then he looked to the ceiling and seemed to count to ten before dropping his eyes to look at a goldfish tank that sat in the corner of the room. "I'm sure they don't hate you," said Dr. Haseltine slowly.

Nick was wondering how he had never noticed the goldfish there before. Usually his eyes went straight to all aquatic life - but it had taken him a whole week to notice this fish.

"You dunno my family," he muttered, watching as the fish floated, suspended in the water. Free, he thought.

"Perhaps I should meet them then," said Dr. Haseltine.

Nick looked up and met his eyes.