Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for language.
Tile makes me so sick; it’s everywhere in this building. Everything smells stale and clean at the same time. My room is no exception, but thankfully we get some items that we buy through magazines, we have little money coming in from our families; if we have any left that is. We all start with a twin-sized bed with grey sheets, a mirror, and a dresser. A shelf, if we are off suicide watch. I have a shelf full of books, Rubix cube on a stand, my slippers (bunny ears included; only the finest from our staff of course), and my dresser is filled with clothes and a picture of my parents in the bottom drawer. We have bars on our windows and we are in the middle of a forest, even in the summer it’s cold, but in the winter it’s freezing. Nothing like living in a mental facility, by a lake, with constant air conditioning, in Michigan. I used to go running in colder weather when the grass was still wet, sprawled out on the morning dew, lungs still burning. My brown hair messy and damp, but I didn’t mind. I enjoyed going to the multiple parks and running, People used to stare at me, probably because of my size and how fast I could go. It was exhilarating, and possibly a bit frightening.
I’m sitting in my room now. Crisscross on my bed, with no one to talk to. I lay down, I decide to close my eyes but am wide awake. Lights turn off as a signal to go to sleep. After hours of shifting and turning, throwing on and off the blanket whenever I get too cold, and then too sweaty; I decided to grab a book, and use the small light, coming from the moon filtering through my window, to read. It’s a book about the dragon prince. Everyone is afraid of him and he rules over the mountains, but he is extremely lonely and starts to go mad. Just as I was reading an epic fight scene between the dragon prince and the knights of the man’s kingdom, I hear a noise just outside my door.
We have locked doors that weigh a ton as if the lock wasn’t enough to keep me in (maybe if I were superman). However, it’s nighttime only night shift should be here and they shouldn’t be in the halls, those are cleaned during the day. These rules are probably for our sanity, if we have any left, keeps us asleep at night. Keeps them from making noise or getting scared by someone who decided to run around in their room naked at night. I’ve thought about it once or twice, but I guess I’m just not that into the crazy. I don’t know what it is about the older loons, they go bat shit. I’m crazy the doctor’s told me so, the doctor’s told the judge. The judge told me. I’m crazy. . . but not bat shit, run around naked, kind of crazy.
I lay my book on my bed and peel off my blankets, the cold air hitting me giving instant chills and goosebumps that raise my hair. A thousand needles pierce my skin as I slide my feet reluctantly across the floor to the door. Don’t get me wrong though, I’m not afraid, just not ready for a naked crazy man to be doing jumping jacks in the hallway (has happened during the day, but not the greatest sight, and I highly doubt it’ll be better during the night), but if he got out maybe he has a key.
I slowly tiptoed to the door and peek into the window, making sure not to show my whole face. I saw a man with a twisted back making his way down the hallway. Scoliosis I presume, however, he walked with a limp, and as far as I could tell no doors had been opened. He turned at the end of the hall to a room, and just stared into a window. Fionna’s room. Then, he was gone. I lay down in bed and quickly fall asleep, the daydreams of a crazy person. When I wake the next morning I wonder if the twisted spined man was just in my head. The only way to find out is to listen and wait for the guards to talk about an escape, or talk to, practically the shyest person in the world (on top of being crazy), Fionna.