Author's Note

This is my first story ever so be honest. the first few chapters will be kind of slow but it will all build up soon enough I promise

Prologue insanity and boredom

The day started like it has started for so long now. Waking up in the hospital bed from the doctor's insistence. Oh how much I hated those self entitled doctors. But alas with the straight jacket and the security guards near by doing something would only make my situation worse.

"How are you doing today Alex" the doctor said mechanically. We have been through this song and dance for awhile now.

"I'm still jailed and I have no control over my life, but other then that I still fucking hate this God damned asylum".

"This is not an asylum Alex. This is a hospital. You are just unwell and we are here to fix that." the doctor blandly states. But we both know I don't believe that shit. Not even for a second. The moment I was thrown in here I knew it was an asylum. Hell everyone knows, but I am the only one who will admit it.

"Doc, let's just get this shit over with so I can go eat" I say annoyed. I know any sign of resistance or angering them will not make these meetings any more pleasant. But I learned a while a go I can never get out of this hell so what's the difference. Sometimes they discharge me, but reality, she is a harsh mistress and I always end up back here one way or another.

We go back and forth with the normal questions. "Are you having negative thoughts"; "What is your depression at from 1 to 10"; and so on and so on. After awhile it just gets so fucking tedious. It has always been annoying.

Once the doctor is done asking the same questions he always asks, he goes on to assure me that I'll get out of here soon enough. He finally leaves me alone to enjoy the sweet silence. But of course it does not last long though, as a nurse comes in with my medication. I hate those God damn drugs. I must admit they help a little but they always have side effects that I just can't get used to.

It hurts you know. I've been stuck in this asylum for two or three years now. I lost count on exactly how long though. My brother just turned eighteen a few days ago. He still visits me from time to time which is nice. My mom was a good support in all of this. She passed away a few years ago. I still miss her. When it comes to my dad it's a completely different story. He had an abusive father and though he tried his best his father's teachings showed through. Add that to his own personality and he could be a complete asshole at times. Certainly not good for me in the long run.

At this point I've gotten the routine down to a T. I barely need to focus on this shit any more. I just think to myself and get lost in my own little world. I tend to do that often instead of facing reality. People told me that it was a shame because I was a prodigy and I could do so much if I tryed. They say I'm smart, perseptive, quick on my feet, creative, have a quick wit, and persuasive. The point no one seems to grasp is that I don't want to face reality. Why would I when reality is boring, cruel, and unfair? Why even bother? I'm self-aware. I know they want me to think higher of myself, but I could care less that they don't understand. That's reality for you.

The other patients distract me for a moment. It's breakfast so we are sitting at the table eating healthy things the chefs microwaved.

I barely have any appetite these days. Even so, I eat what's in front of me. I try and remember what my mom would have wanted, but I have always had a fractured mind. I don't mean as in insane fractured. I mean I remember only certain pieces of memories at any certain time. I know it's confusing, but think of it like recovering a photo album from a flood. Some pictures are perfectly fine while others are gone. Some are still there but damaged from the water. Those are my memories and it shifts every so often.

I'm rambling aren't I? Sorry. It's been awhile since I've talked to someone. Whenever I do I feel more insane, but I know this helps keep my head on straight. The one person I tell everything to is me and me alone. But you already guessed that, didn't you? Of course this is the exception.

The hospital does the same things every week, so I have plenty of time to think to myself or find some other means of entertainment. Right now we all moved into a circle. This group session is about talking about what happened that landed us here. Everyday we ask questions to the newest member that hasn't gone yet. To be honest, I could care less. I was never able to get invested in the conversations.

This person is a orphan with anger issues and is scared of abandonment. His name is something foreign and long so I'm just gonna call him dude or something. This had been going on for awhile. It should be lunch soon.

I decided to make a phone call before lunch. I would skip lunch, but they never allow that to happen. It's funny they want us to feel welcome here, yet it's exactly like a prison. Nothing to do in our rooms. Stuck inside at all times. We only get a certain amount of phone calls. If that's not prison I don't know what is though I only know prison through movies so I wouldn't really know.

After the long fucking discussion it takes for them to dial the number and let me use the phone, (which they had to hold up for me which I can tell they 'loved' doing) it starts to ring. The sound of that ring helps me forget all about my previous annoyance. After awhile it goes to voicemail. As shitty as that is, it is to be expected. My best friend never picks up his phone when I call. I like to imagine it's because, like always, he has something to do. But I know the real reason why. We both were a little crazy back then. That's what brought us together. We had fun and we could understand each other. But once he was able to move out of his family's house, he got his life together. Time moved forward and I barely knew him anymore. He got a part time job, a girlfriend he loved dearly, and got into a good college. I tried to stay in touch but he was fading away like everyone else. LIKE HE FUCKING PROMISED NOT TO DO!! Whoops. I said that out loud. Ah what the hell! They all think I'm crazy anyway. He was one of the last threads holding me together. I knew that so I got very possessive over him. Then a few weeks later I'm starting my first day in the asylum and can't get in contact with him.

Time starts to fly by like usual when your stuck and unaware of the outside world. Next thing I know I'm taking my nightly medication before I'll be sent back to my room for the night. Have I mentioned I hate this? I can't stand the strict schedule that I have no power over. In fact, I hate having no power in general, no control and no choices over my own life. I'm in my room now just reviewing good memories. Like Halloween. I like to scare people. When I wear a mask I feel free from the anxiety and depression. I can do whatever the hell I want and the mask assures me that I will be safe. That's why I love Halloween.

I know this is boring but this is my life now. Boring and completely controlled. If I could get out of here I would make sure not one moment of my life would be boring and would not let those damn laws control me!!

That's all I got. There's nothing to do but go to bed. They close and lock the door so I can't even leave. They use cameras to watch us so even without my straight jacket I wouldn't have masturbated because I don't want those freaks to watch me do it.

I look around before I lay down on the hospital bed. Same old white walls. Same huge locked door. Same mysterious hatch on my floor.

Wait a minute that's not right...... I get up slowly analyzing the trapdoor. It appears to be glowing ominously. I've never seen something like this before let alone in here. The more I look at it the more I get the feeling that this was not naturally made. It feels like this thing isn't just any trap door. It feels like it is a trapdoor for my sake. I pondered on what the fuck is going on. The doctors didn't come in so it was not showing on the cameras. Maybe it is one of my hallucinations, so I walk over to it. I used my foot to open the trap door.

Whatever the hell was in there it is changing colors rapidly so it is hard to see shit without getting a fucking seizure. But after a moment or two my eyes get used to it. I notice there is a note on the bottom of the trap door and it simply reads "want to play?". My mother warned me about strangers that want to play with me. But I'm trapped in a insane asylum, already hate my life and I'm probably just hallucinating anyway, so why the hell not. I jump in and feel myself falling until what feels like a metal bat being swung against my head knocks me out.