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This is supposed to be a maximum-security treatment program, not some free-for-all hippy-haven where we all sing hakuna fucking matata while holding hands in a circle.
Anyway, the truth is, I don’t want her to choose. We all need her, just in different ways. She’s the missing piece of the puzzle.
“Nothing about this place is real, Brooklyn. Don’t you see that yet? It’s all just…” He pauses, grinning and searching for the right word. “An illusion.”
“Y-You’re not a real patient. Are you?”
The cliff hanger at the end!!!!!
