She was sad when she met him, he was sad when he met her; what else could be expected? This was, in fact, a mental institution and they were both deemed insane. To this day, she still couldn't recognize the way he made her feel, but for some reason, she prefered it that way. It was something about his innocent and hot-headed personality that made her want to hit him in the face then kiss him over and over again. But that's not all she remembered him for.

I was staring blankly at the plate in front of me. I didn't want to eat, I was feeling nauseous and homesick, but even then, they wouldn't allow me to leave. I rested my chin in the palm of my left hand, and toyed with strands of my tangled dirty blond hair with the other. I couldn't stop myself from thinking. When could I leave this torturous place? The white walls, worn furniture and uneven tiled floors didn't shorten the list of problems I had here. I craved adventure and freedom; the ten by eleven room I spent most of my time in couldn't serve that purpose.

I was deep enough in thought when an extremely tall, lanky figure plopped his tray next to mine, startling me. He slid into the bench seat next to me and just sat there silently. I wasn't sure what he was expecting me to do so I spoke, "Borderline Personality." It sure was blunt, the way I said that.

"How unfortunate it must be to have that for a name. I'm Holden, Holden Caulfield." I looked up at him in awe, in this place we only introduced ourselves when we had to. His golden eyes glistened as he tried to force a chuckle of some sort. I had hoped he didn't come around so he could tell me about his problems, I had my own and I didn't feel like pitying him.

"S-sorry I just kinda figured that-" somehow, although I had just met him, Holden was making me nervous, "I'm Daisy, Daisy Watson." I stated mockingly. I flashed him a weak smile.

She was pretty, not magazine-cover pretty, but pretty. She had said her name was Daisy, which suited her perfectly. Her beauty was the same as a daisy, it wasn't a rose or a tulip or a carnation, but it was still a flower. She didn't seem too phony either, I could get to know her.

"Can you dance?" I asked without thinking. She didn't even look at me, her deep brown eyes stared blankly at the table in front of her.

"Never tried," she responded. As I finished up the last of my sandwich, I stood up and grabbed my tray, "We can continue this conversation later on? I could teach you a few moves." I chuckled nervously, realizing I had been too confident. She nodded, but still didn't look my way. I knew what I was getting myself into. I'll get attached, I'll tell her about my feelings and I'll regret it. Honestly, I refused to care.

After lunch was recreational therapy and we were able to play games however we were being monitored so there wasn't much of a choice. That didn't stop Daisy from huddling in the corner of the rec room alone. I couldn't tell from afar, but I think she was crying. I had a thing for crying girls, I don't know why. I wanted to approach her, but I wasn't sure how so I just let her be.