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“What would you say is your depression level, zero being none at all and ten being the worst?”

“Two,” said Ethan.

“What is your anxiety level?”

“Three.”

“Any thoughts of harming yourself?”

“No.”

“Any thoughts of harming others?”

“No.”

These were the questions they asked you in the psychiatric ward every morning and every night. And everything was supposed to be soft there. No sharp objects, nothing someone could use to hurt himself. Even hard feelings were frowned upon. If anyone showed emotion that was too harsh or negative the staff would start talking in a voice most adults use for children. “Oh, I’m sorry, that’s too bad, but you have to calm down, okay?”

It’s not as if Ethan minded any of this. The psych ward was supposed to be a gentle place for recovery. Feeling condescended to was a small price to pay for kindness and a nice place to heal one’s heart and mind. “Thank you, nurse,” he said, swallowing his pills. They had him on an anti-psychotic called Flomoxadil. He intended to stop taking it as soon as he left the hospital, which would be in twenty-two hours. He wanted to see his wife and kids. His wife had visited him twice. They didn’t allow children to visit, another understandable rule.

“Well, people, I’m out of here in less than a day,” he said strolling into the common area.

“Aww, no fair,” they groaned.

“I wish you all the best. May your recovery be swift and your dreams come true.”

“We’ll miss you, Ethan,” said a nurse, “but we hope we never see you again.” This was the standard farewell statement for the hospital.

Weatherview was a friendlier city than most. The miraculous phenomena in recent years had made them so. Strangers greeted each other, struck up conversations, generally felt more at home with one another than people in other places. The general rule elsewhere was to maintain a level of suspicion about people you didn’t know. They were possibly planning to assault and rob you, or maybe they were insane and couldn’t control their violent emotions. Or it was simply considered impolite to speak to someone to whom you hadn’t been formally introduced. Not in Riverview. The dreams had served to make the city more like a family, similar to how those who’ve experienced a traumatic event together feel bonded for life. Similar yet opposite.

Strangely enough acting friendlier toward others made people want to be friendlier, made them feel more positive emotions. This benevolent cycle was slowly transforming the town and reminding the residents that one doesn’t have to get what they want to be happy. If one makes his or her heart gentle and kind, good things start coming his way. The purposes of one’s heart transform the world, not the other way around.

The psychiatric department had been good for Ethan, but now he was ready to go. He wondered how many other people God had sent to Hell recently. The Bible says, “Only a remnant will be saved,” and “Many will be called, few will be chosen.” He shuddered at the thought of a majority of the world’s population enduring what he’d had to go through. Hell lived up to its name, it was truly horrible. He had deserved the worst. He didn’t physically do anything too bad but he wished the worst things imaginable on another person and tried to hurt him spiritually, in the heavenly places as the Bible says. The spiritual realm is where the Archangel Michael fought the devil and that’s where Ethan committed his sins. God had shone him mercy.

“They say it’s what’s inside that counts,” he said quietly.

“It is what’s inside that counts,” a lady sitting near him said, sliding a paper with a bright crayon-colored flower over to him.

“Thank you, dear,” he said.

Later on Ethan paced up and down the hall praying for his family, for his friends, and for forgiveness.

“I love you, God. I’m sorry I let the world get the best of me. I’m sorry I let evil trick me into becoming an awful person. Those evil thoughts were all my fault. They were worse than thoughts because I tried to act on them spiritually. Please forgive me. Forgive me for all the sins I know about and the sins I don’t. I sin every day. Thank you for your holy Cross, Jesus. Thank you for your love.”

Ethan prayed like this at least three times a day. He had been to the bad place. For the rest of his life he would try to be grateful, humble, and faithful.