"Kill him! Kill him!"
SLAM.
I'm pretty sure that everything is in my head.
The seagull is saying my name again. "Ash Crane!"
"Devil lunatic yes".
I'm wondering when lunch is. I spent the day drawing in my room. And my gut feels like it has holes in it. Especially on my left side, which is where I've been curled up on.
I'm hoping that maybe, if I don't eat for long enough, if I vomit, I'll be able to burn someone's face off with my stomach acid.
"He knows that he's crazy."
"Do you want to chat with us or would you like to visit?"
"I just want to talk to you."
"About what?"
"We are the rest team. And we try to engage people lalalalablah blah blah."
I need a therapy session, I think.
"Evil, evil, evil."
It's a lunatic.
"Heart attack."
"Touched his ego."
"Radar."
"Devil."
"A genius."
"Force the injection."
Now I didn't say any of these things.
I have a comic book on my bed which I couldn't read without imagining the characters being torn apart in blood. There was a woman in a dress who I sliced in half and watched the entrails flow like wriggling worms, and I looked at the smiling mask and thought, yeah that's my hero. Then I turned a page and saw an exploding building.
I'm sure that's what I saw.
Maybe these people are trying to heal me.
"He wants an injection. Inject him."
Oh dear. That must be someone else. There's a lot of mental people here. But I'm sure they're all secretly security guards and ninjas.
Or something. They seem so normal.
Ah he's going crazy.
"That's right Ash Crane!"
You're a vegetable.
"Fuck his mind up."
Slam. Slam.
"Policuh. Can you call them."
"Happiness. Happiness." Someone sings somewhere probably from the hall.
"Excuse me. Give me your phone. Give me the phone."
"He's a lunatic."
Right I believe this number of words is enough for now, so I'll go eat food. I hope I'm not late for lunch.
"Happiness. Happiness."
Shoot himself. Shoot himself.
Whaaaat?
My head feels tired.
"Don't worry you're going home."
NEVER!!!!
I'M HERE FOREVER!!!
"He actually likes it here."
Whisper whisper whisper.
He's like a vegetable.
Hahaahhaa.
He's absolutely mad.
Bounce.
Bounce.
I think someone was bouncing a ball or making a thudding noise. Something was moving.
Chunk chunk chunk chunk chunk chunk someone walks past with keys.
"He's a vegetable!"
Slam!
Now I'm wondering how I can string these guys up - now, I'm a safe person. I'm friendly.
"YEAAAAAAH!!" Clap clap clap.
"Now he's back! The good Ash!"
"Kill him".
"He's so insane."
"Okay well."
"Hehehehe."
Chlink chlink chlink.
SLAM!
11:57
Can these people read my mind? Nah.
"Hah/yes".
"Ketchup".
"Mememeggmgmfmfmffmfmfmffmffm."
Talking talking talking. I'm starving.
I have no idea if my room is still filled with gas. I'm sure I was hallucinating last night. Or dreaming.
It's so loud here.
Chink.
He's insane.
Tick tick.
Click click click click shrink shrink lock clicks.
"Lunch time. Lunch time."
YAYAYAYAYAAYA
YOU ARE READING
GET HIM!
HumorGrievous mental harm. Blood that'll fill lakes and sights that'll set you giggling. Here's the story of Ash Cane, an inmate at Lindon Asylum who gets gassed every night in his prison cell, where he's up till he finds himself waking up in the morning...
