Second Person sat in his car, waiting as he stared at the time on his phone. Only a minute to go.

He impatiently tapped his finger on the steering wheel. Come on... come on...

12:00 PM.

He smiled. Finally.

Second exited his car, locked it, and made his way towards Canterlot Psychiatric Center. Visiting hours had begun.

Upon entering, Second checked in with the receptionist at the front desk. "I'm here to visit my wife, Sour Sweet."

He presented his ID, signed a confidentiality form, and was given a visitor badge. Cellphones were not permitted, as pictures and video could compromise patient privacy. Second had to hand his over to the receptionist. A nurse came to escort him back to the cafeteria where the visits were held.

When Sour Sweet was committed, Second promised that he and their daughter, Bitter Honey would visit every day. Unfortunately, that promise was made before Second knew what the actual hospital rules were. Patients were only allowed two visitors per day and children under thirteen were not permitted.

Knowing group visitations were impossible, Second contacted Sour's parents and told them to have the first visit. It was only right. They had visited the day before. Now it was his turn to see how she was doing.

****************

"The Storm King demands to watch The Weather Channel!"

"Ghost Adventures is having a marathon right now!"

"If I wanted to see spirits, I'd stop my medication! Put on Tosh.0!"

"How about Teen Titans Go?"

"Who the hell just said that?!"

Sour Sweet leaned back in a reclining chair, watching her fellow patients as they fought over the TV remote in the common room. For her, it was like your standard 'people watching'... only more depressing. Just to prove the point, Sour turned her head at the sound of pained crying. A woman was on her knees, facing the wall. Her hands were reaching up and clawing as she rubbed her face against it. A staff member went over to help her up.

Sour sighed. Despite the heaviness of mental health in the air, Canterlot Psychiatric Center had as much casualness as it could muster. Everyone was wearing their own clothes from home. However, there were no shoelaces, belts, or drawstrings to be found. The reason why should be obvious.

Sour's eyes drifted over to the window for a moment. Outside, some other patients were playing basketball. One was sitting with a doctor on a bench, having a private therapy session. Some fresh air sounded good right about then to Sour, but she wanted to see how the TV drama would play out first.

The guy who proclaimed himself "The Storm King" shot up and went over to the one currently with the remote. He tried the grab it out of his hand, but the other patient was resolute. A tug of war commenced, their fingers hitting the buttons and causing a rapid channel flip.

Suddenly, it halted upon a channel. Sour's eyes bugged. The gaze of everyone in the room was drawn to what was being shown. It was a famous horror movie and they were just in time for the scene where the two killers were taking turns stabbing each other with a large knife. Because that's what Hollywood thinks people with mental issues do to pass the time away, apparently.

"This is kind of violent," one guy commented dryly.

"It's a true story," an old lady claimed rather creepily.

"Whoa, whoa now!" A nurse with a nervous chuckle quickly went over, grabbed the remote, and switched the gorefest over to golf. "There we are. Much more... therapeutic."

The Storm King huffed and returned to his seat next to a woman whose right eye had a long scar streaked over it. There was also a smaller, circular scar in the middle of her forehead. She had her arms crossed, her hands tucked in so tightly that they couldn't be seen.

The nurse then walked over to Sour. "Miss Sweet? You have a visitor."

Sour nodded. "Thank you."

She got up and began her way to the cafeteria. As she passed the other patients, she couldn't help but to notice the woman with the scarred face giving her a dirty look. Sour didn't know what was up with that. Neither did she care, really.

****************

Sour and Second embraced for what seemed like forever before they finally took a seat at one of the cafeteria tables. Lunch had just ended, so they had the whole place to themselves.

"So how are you doing, Sour? Are you comfortable here? How is it?"

"It's kind of like being back in college, actually. I even have a dormmate. Her name is Floor Bored. She doesn't like to talk. Or bathe. There's not that much privacy in the rooms, though. The doors have small Plexiglas windows so the staff can look in. They've got to check up on us every thirty freakin' minutes. You can set your watch by it."

Second nodded. "I see. And how did the visit from your parents go yesterday?"

Sour shrugged. "All I did was upset them."

"What do you mean?"

"When I first saw them, I threw out my arms and said, 'Welp, mom and dad, your little girl finally made it'. Mom couldn't stop crying. Not the best thing to say, huh?"

Second cringed. "Yeah, maybe not."

"And should I not expect a visit from your parents?"

Second cringed even more. "They're set in their ways, you know."

Sour crossed her arms. "So they still think schizophrenia is caused by demonic possession and that mental hospitals are MKUltra centers ran by the Jesuits?"

Second nodded with embarrassment.

"And I can't see Bitter?"

"Well, they told me that you can use the phone to talk to her."

Sour was silent for a moment. Her head then shook. "No. I've scarred her for life enough as it is."

Second reached over and held his wife's hand. "Sour, Bitter's fine. She talks about you nonstop. She loves you so much."

"We'll see as she grows up. She may just inherit your writing ability and put out a best-selling tell-all memoir. I can see the title now: Offspring of Loony: The Bitter Honey Story. She'll kill it on The View."

Second cracked a smile. "At least you seem to be keeping your sense of humor up."

Sour rolled her eyes. "With as high of a dose of medication they're giving me, I'm lucky to be joking at all. It's pretty much killed my libido. Otherwise, I would have already tackled and taken you right on top of this table by now."

Second chuckled. "There will be more than enough time for that when you get out of here." He then became a little more uncomfortable. "Sour? You're not angry with me for committing you, right?"

"You had to do what you had to do."

"You definitely seem better already."

Sour shook her head. "It may seem like it now, but I have flare ups."

"Well, just take it easy. Do what the doctors tell you to do. You know I'm only a phone call away when I'm not here with you. You'll get through this. I know you will. My Sour Sweetheart can do anything."

They talked for another hour before Sour began to feel a headache coming on.

Second smiled as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. "Did I excite you too much?"

Sour softly punched him in the shoulder. "Keep that up and one day I'll commit you for egomania."

They both got up and walked out of the cafeteria.

"Can you think of anything you want me to bring you?" Second asked.

Sour placed her finger on her chin. "Something to read would be nice. How about some novels by my favorite award-winning author?"

"Oh? And who would that be, I wonder?"

Sour smirked. "Anon."

Second laughed. "Just for that, you'll be getting some of mine."

"Oh honey, how cruel and unusual you can be," Sour joked. "You'll be bringing them tomorrow then?"

"Actually, someone else will."

Sour cocked her head. "Who?"

Second winked. "It's a surprise."

They shared a goodbye hug and kiss. Second went his way toward to the front entrance. Sour began her way back to the common room.

"Well, aren't we little miss popular?" a voice caused Sour to pause.

Sour turned to see the woman with the scarred face, leaning against the wall with her arms still folded.

"'Popular'?" Sour repeated.

"This makes two days in a row you've gotten visitors."

"Well, yeah. My parents and my husband. Why wouldn't they come to visit me?"

The woman chuckled. "Ah, newbies. Always good for a laugh. Listen, enjoy your little visits while they last. Eventually they'll become few and far between. Until finally, no more. Some patients here never even had a visit after they were committed. Not even once. Just dumped here to be forgotten. They think they're safe within these walls, but the truth of the matter is that this hospital could just be one government funding cut away from shutting down. And all of us? Tossed out onto the street to fend for ourselves. First abandoned by our families, then abandoned by so-called 'decent' society."

Sour lifted up an eyebrow. "Well, aren't you a little ray of sunshine?"

"Oh, and your husband? He'll move on. He'll find some bimbo to replace you."

If Sour wasn't heavily medicated right then, she would have likely hauled back and dropped this chick. Instead, she just asked in a calm-sounding tone, "You got something against me, Scarface?"

The woman narrowed her eyes. "My name is not 'Scarface'."

"What is it then?"

The woman opened her mouth, but hesitated. "Just call me Tempest Shadow."

Sour rolled her eyes and thought, Great. An edgelord mental patient.

"Look, I'm only trying to save you from inevitable heartache." Tempest suddenly put on a sarcastic smile and pointed to it with her left hand. Her right was still tightly tucked away from view. "See this? This is me being nice." The smile quickly dropped. "I don't do it often. Learn to take care of yourself. Humanity, society, friendship? It's all a lie. You're better off on your own."

Sour shook her head with annoyance. "Wow, five minutes in meeting you and I can already tell you're full of shit. If you think being alone is the bee's knees, then why do I see you always cozying up to that Storm King guy?"

"It's none of your business what I do."

"Look, even if it's just some casual hookup thing, that still counts as being social, emo."

Before Sour could react, her body was shoved hard against the wall. Tempest Shadow's sneering face went right up to hers, eyes locked. Her left hand was pressing into Sour's chest, shooting pain across her body and making it difficult for her to breath. Sour struggled and tried to pry Tempest's one hand away with both of hers. She couldn't.

"Most people learn that life isn't fair very early on, but those like you and me understand that on a whole other level, don't we?" Tempest then finally held up her right hand... or at least she would if she had a right hand. She brought up the stump and slowly stroked her facial scars with it. "We're damaged goods. Nobody truly knows the torture going on in our heads but us. There's nothing but loneliness to look forward to. Those around us now won't be forever. Open up your eyes."

Sour was then released. Her knees nearly buckled as she gripped her chest, heaving heavily for air. With that, Tempest Shadow turned and walked back toward the direction of the common room.

Sour couldn't help but to smile as she thought, First that Aria bitch from years ago and now Tempest Shadow. Are emos my kryptonite or something?

There was one thing Sour didn't want to smile about or even admit to, however. Tempest had successfully put some bad ideas into her head. And if there was one thing Sour didn't need in her current state, it was a head full of bad ideas...