Shatter House

Beginning

So this is the story about me, Scarlet Whittaker, (for those who don't know me). I went through a pretty nasty situation when I was at the nuthouse, and by nuthouse I mean, Shatter House Asylum for the Mentally Incompetent. Now look, I'm not crazy, (obviously because I wouldn't be writing this tell-all book), but everyone else seems to think so. I was in there for no reason if you ask me, but then again I'm "crazy" so my opinion doesn't matter. *sigh* (Yes, I put a sigh because that's what I did just now).

Anyways back on subject, To start off, I have to tell you guys how I got in Shatter House. It all started on a dark dreary night, (well not really, but it sounds creepy and ominous), I was with my mother and she was cooking her usual, disgusting meatloaf. This meatloaf alone is enough to make a person go insane, but I survived for years eating it so I was immune to the taste. My mother had always been a horrible role model, better yet, she's always been a horrible person. She would prostitute half the night, sleep during the day, and do drugs the rest of the time. The days she made meatloaf are the only days I could call her a mother.

So on this day, I had just came from school and I walked into our little apartment. I opened the door and I was stunned by the smell of old ground beef and bell peppers. I went to the kitchen to investigate what my mom was up to, and I saw her in the corner of the tiny kitchen at the table. (That only meant one thing), She's sniffing cocaine as usual, I pulled the meatloaf casserole out of the oven and sat in on a towel on the counter. I looked at her with complete disapproval and pulled a knife out of the drawer to cut the meatloaf.

My mother started to yell at me (for judging her) and hit me intensely. Then she grabbed a plate and bashed me across the head with it. I turned around and pushed the knife in my hand into her stomach. In my defense, I had endured this for years and technically it was self defense. So I called the cops, got arrested, and went to court. The judge said I had psychological damage because of my situation at home, thus I was deemed mentally unfit for a trial. After much debate, they decided to send me to a facility for teenagers. Thus, I ended up at Shatter House. Now, I know some of you readers might think I'm some crazy murderer, but I PROMISE, I'm a good, non-psychotic average teenage girl.