Chapter 3: A Guide to Making Friends

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I was escorted back to my room at Wallace's. The two buildings were connected by a long corridor so that patients like me wouldn't have to go outside. I was on the Lockdown list. Under no circumstance was I to go outside, as I was "at high risk to reoffend". Yes, because I would totally try and destroy London whilst outside of a prison, not even in London. Totally.

I've no need for revenge nor justice anymore; I have already done my part. Bill Hawks is doing the same as me right now, sitting in some useless cell letting his life fade away. He deserves it. Damn well he deserves it! But I too deserved my punishment as well.

I could have killed and hurt so many innocent people because of my stupidity. I feel terrible. I felt terrible 629 days ago too. So I should be released, there's nothing else for me to do here. And there is certainly no progress to be made.

I have no friends here, nor reason to live. I see the guards, Jaycie, and sometimes they'll let me go to group therapy which is just a blast! Can you hear my sarcasm?! We all sit in a circle and talk about our crimes, or mental status, or both. Once, a psychopath tried to stab me with a fork! A goddamn fork!!! These people were crazy!!!

And I'm not sure that staying secluded from the world was beneficial to my health. I wanted someone to talk to who wasn't writing down every word I said. Is that to much to ask for?

I doubt toying with his-or-her pathetic life would be a good way to treat my "new friend" if I ever made one. I hate to even think about it, but I suppose I'd have to be sincere and kind with the poor bloke. I don't see how that could be much fun though...

However, I didn't have time to contemplate the matter because I heard a sudden rapping at my door. I wasn't supposed to have anything scheduled; was this a guard dragging me back to Jaycie's for another session? I loathed the idea, but I simply waited for the door to open.

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