The newest patient screams and screams until he has no air and almost no voice left: he hates it here, he didn’t want to come, his parents forced him here, just like these fucking doctors are going to force him to take all kinds of drugs until there’s no color left, it would have been better to just let him die like he wanted.

Nurse Felicity kneels down on the floor, far enough that there’s no fear she’ll touch him against his will, close enough for him to hear it when she says, “Listen, kiddo, I know this wasn’t your first choice but – okay, bear with me here – you know Vincent van Gogh?” She waits for his gulping sob and a nod before she continues. “What you might not have heard in school is that all his best work, all those sunflowers and stars and swirls, they were all painted while he was receiving treatment of some kind, so I promise you here and now that the color doesn’t go away.”