Asylum Mental Institution (TW and TVD)

Chapter 1

My mother always told me that people are mean to others because they hate themselves; because they have no one to make them feel special so they hurt people to get what they want. She always told me that you should treat everyone the way you would want to be treated. She taught me so many things about love and kindness and hatred but she forgot to mention the people who ended their lives because of those feelings. The grief-stricken ones who convinced themselves they were unimportant. She forgot to mention the ones who went to the dark place, the tempting void, in their minds. The ones who stayed there because of the fear plagued in their brain telling them that if they went back they would regret it. She forgot to mention the ones that went. . . Mad. The insanity taking over everything they knew. The ones who travelled so far there, they got lost. Now they sit there waiting for someone to free them out of the imaginary cage they've put themselves in. My questions is. . .

How do you go and save someone from them self without loosing yourself in the process?

...

April 18th, 2015

No. I didn't do it. It's all his fault. I didn't do anything. GET ME OUT OF HERE!" I can hear the words perfectly but I don't realize they're coming out of my mouth.

"LET ME GO!" I say struggling to get out of the sharp handcuffs the security guard has put me in. Tears stream down my eyes as I see my stepfather standing in the doorway. His eyes are enlightened with joy and a smirk is plastered on his cruel face. A scar right above his left eye crinkles up as he smiles. I've never hated a person so much in my life. The hate dissolves into me and all I want to do is kill him. I have to kill him.

"PLEASE LET ME GO. HE KILLED MY MOM! HE KILLED HER! I KNOW HE DID!" I yell at the guard standing next to me. His face looks tired and he looks sad. So sad, as he watches me struggle to get out. In a way, I think he believes me. I think he believes that the monster standing at the doorway talking to the manager of the facility killed my mom. But he doesn't want to look me in the eye again. I can't blame him.

My arms starts to hurt as I keep trying to get out of the handcuffs but I know it's useless. I'm sitting down in a chair with a security guard next to me and two others in the corner of the room. There's no escaping no matter how hard I tried.

A brown clipboard with various printed words on it lands onto my stepfathers hands. He quickly signs and scribbles things about me that aren't true. With the corner of my eyes I can see some of the things listed on the white paper.

Violent behavior
Aggressive anger
Emotional disabilities

He checks all of them.

"She's crazy. She tried to kill me and her brother after her mom died. I had to send her baby brother to live in Florida with his aunt. She needs help. Keep her in here for me will you?" I overhear the conversation with my stepdad and the manager. He's lying. That's all he ever does.

"Course, we'll do everything we can." The manager smiles. My stepdad shakes his hand with a wad of money. The manager takes it and puts it in his pocket. I scoff. He's buying my place in here. The security guards act oblivious to it. Expect the one next to me. He just looks down at the ground with a witty frown on his face.

"What's her name ?" The manger asks.

"Kat. Kat Celeste Thompson."

"Birthdate?"

"8/15/96."

"Age?"

"19."

"Height ?"

"5'3."

"Weight?"

"113."

"Eye color?"