Take me to the madhouse; I think a screw is loose. Throw me in a jacket that’s warm and constricting. Put me in a cell that’s maddeningly soft and white. Don’t open the door for the bad man inside. He’s patient, and he’s waiting for you.
-- Unknown author
Quiet, it’s quiet. Always quiet filled with whispers. Whispers of what? Whispers of insanity, maybe, maybe. Are there even any whispers? Is anyone even there? Of course someone’s there, there’s always someone watching, waiting. Waiting for what? Waiting for me, maybe, maybe. It’s hard to tell if someone’s waiting for you here. I’m waiting for someone but that someone could be gone by now… no, it’s too obvious, too soon. They’re still watching, still watching, just keeping quiet. Hoping I don’t notice they’re still around. But I know they’re still here and they don’t know I know they’re still here. It’s been a long time, hard to tell exactly, but a long time. I’m still here, they’re still here and I can wait a little longer before I stretch my legs again.
The walls are starting to brown. I don’t know how long it has been since the room was just white. The pads are still intact, though. I despise the pads, and the whiteness of the room. Brown is a good color. It lets me know time is still passing while I’m waiting. My jacket hasn’t browned at all. This annoys me a bit, a bit. I hope the jacket will brown soon. My arms are getting restless again. I need to get through the door. Then the jacket will brown, it will brown and fall off. They are still safe, watching me. Safety is no fun, no fun at all. I should show them why it’s not fun. That’s why I’m waiting. The door will open soon; I’ll have my chance, the only chance. They’re always so overdressed. They need to learn how to have fun. I can show them soon, very soon, I need to wait. If I wait they’ll come and have some fun with me.
There haven’t been whispers for a while now. Do they know I know they’re still here? It’s not very helpful if they know. Now they might not come at all. But they have to come, it’s their job. They were the ones who put me here. They have to open the door eventually. The camera has fallen off at my feet, so they have to check if I’m still here. I wonder if my toys are still here? It’s a question that needs answers soon. But I’m really starting to wonder where the whispers went. It’s always been quiet here, but this is too much. If there’s nothing there can’t be something. I want it to be loud again, like it was outside. The quiet’s too much, it’s starting to hurt, starting to hurt… I need to make it loud again, like before the door closed. I just need to open my mouth and… and… “EEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Was that too loud? Or maybe it wasn’t loud enough. I don’t know, it’s still quiet past the door. That’s not fair, I shouldn’t have to make all the noise. They should stop being so quiet…
I hear footsteps. Are they coming to play with me? Or is someone just passing by? The former would be much more enjoyable. I want to move, I want this jacket off. The latch on my door is opening. There’s a horrible squealing sound, I think it’s the hinges. I don’t know how long it’s been since the door’s been opened. But it’s opening now, and I can stretch my legs finally.
I can’t believe I’m standing again, I don’t know how long it’s been. The door is still opening; I can see a shadow of someone now. Now a hand has peeked around the door. I’m going to start walking towards the door, hopefully it doesn’t shut again. Now a face is staring at me, and the man (who looks to be about 43 years old and 5’ 4” on a good day), is hesitating. This is good, very good, hesitation is good for me. Not so good for him, though. I’ve started running at him now, and he’s fallen on the ground in the hallway. This is good, very very good. He’s not fighting back, he’s just screaming. Too loud, he’s too loud, I need his lips gone. I’m biting his lips now and he’s getting quieter. He’s shoving me off, but I’m going to take some of him with me. His lips are still in my teeth, good, very good. He’s screaming again, swinging a knife around wildly. He looks comical, with his teeth exposed like that. I don’t think he likes what I’ve done for him, though. He just broke part of the jacket, and my arms are starting to move. I need to wiggle, wiggle, that’s it. The jacket’s falling apart, and my hands are free, very good. This man is still screaming, and he looks afraid. I just wanted to play, but he got me all dirty. He needs to be taught a lesson. I think my hands could help some, help just a little.
The dirty man wasn’t very fun, no fun at all. He was too delicate; my hands dented his neck. Now he’s broken, completely broken. I’m sure there’s someone else here to play with. The dirty man was probably watching me. If that’s the case, I need to find my toys, find my toys. If there’re more people to play with, I need something to entertain them with. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve walked down this hall. I do know where my things were last I saw them. I still wonder if they’re even there anymore. They probably are, the other people have been so occupied watching, watching. I don’t know how long I’ve been walking. I am making progress down the hall, that I know. I can see the door that has my things behind it now. It’s browned considerably, and there are a few holes by the handle. I don’t know if this is the same door anymore. But I’ll try it regardless. None of the other doors have browned yet. I don’t know how long this door has been here. At least my toys are here still. Now I can have some fun, so much fun.
It’s been quiet for a while now. I’m only just hearing more people. It’s exciting, and I don’t think they know I’m close by yet. I’m getting myself worked up now, the anticipation is killing me! I feel like I need to sing. Maybe that’ll calm me down. I need a steady hand for these people. Alright, here I go, “Cut and stab, rip and tear, strip the flesh right from their bones, when they run, give them hope, then crush it with their knee caps.” I don’t know how long it’s been since I sang that song. They know I’m here now. A door just shut from around the corner. Are they afraid of me? I just want to play with them. This door isn’t browned, but it’s weak. I barely kicked it and it’s already wide open. I can see the men across the small room, so very small. They’re dressed in white; I don’t like white. I can’t be angry with them. They’re my playmates, so I’ll just bite their tongue and say hello. I’ll whistle my song, maybe this bunch will whistle back. No, they’re not whistling, just screaming again. It’s too loud again, my toys need to help these men along to silence.
None of them are screaming anymore, good, very good. I stopped one from trying to leave. He’s twitching now, and a bunch of red stuff is coming out of his leg and his head. My toys are still really sharp, so so sharp. The men are really quiet now, so I want to make some new toys from them. I’ll take a finger from the man who tried to hit me (he was really mean). I want a tooth from the man who wouldn’t stop screaming during our playdate. I need a toe from the man who tried to run out on all of us. But I can’t leave them sleeping on the floor, cold floor. I’ll give some jackets to them. Then when they wake up they’ll be warm and happy, so so happy. Why are there no jackets in this room? I don’t know how long the jackets have been missing. It’s getting loud again. But there are no other people around. Why is it loud? It’s starting to get dark too. Why is it so dark now? Now there’s a pain behind my eye. I don’t know how long it’s been hurting.
My eye is starting to bleed. My hands are scratching at the arms of a chair. It hurts so much. There’s a door in front of me and it’s shut. This door hasn’t browned at all. A man is standing in front of me wearing white. I hate white. My eye hurts more. The man in white just said something and my eye started hurting less. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting. The man in white is staring into my eye. His noise hurts more than my eye. He just stabbed me with a needle. I’m starting to feel tired. My eye is hurting again. The man in white says something again. I can’t understand him. My face feels like it’s on fire. I hear something metal hitting my eye. This is strange, I can’t feel anything… I don’t know how long I’ve been here.