He lay down on his bed, the blinds closed, and sighed. This was his third straight month in the St. John's Hospital Psychiatric Ward, and Drew felt trapped... more than usual, at least. The radio he was allowed to have played music. [i]"We Built This City" by Starship[/i], he thought. [i]Maybe it'll make me feel better.[/i] He stared at the ceiling for a moment, and then glanced at the mirror. Something flickered in the corner, and when he turned to look in the spot it reflected, he saw nothing out of the ordinary.
"A reminder," a woman's voice said over the PA system, "All patients must file for weekend visits before tomorrow night."
Drew sighed again, shook his head. "Not gonna do that," he muttered.