Frank P.O.V
The strong and clinical doctor's office smell hit me like a brick wall to the face. It stung the insides of my nose, burning the back of my throat. A male, middle-aged warden was holding my arm, leading me along the seemingly endless corridors. To my surprise, there were no patients lying in pools of their own piss and tears- like in those dumb movies about asylums. The white floors matched the white walls, and my mind instantly lost the one ounce of happiness that I had left.
The rest of the happiness had ebbed away over the past few months. From the fear of my sexuality, to the soul-killing depression that followed. My parents; they never understood, and they never would. They wanted their perfect little Frankie back, their little boy that would grow up to be a doctor and earn them a lot of money. Instead, their perfect little boy battled with himself on a day-to-day basis, attempting to end his life a few times.
"This, is the common room. Many of our patients like to sit here, talk, watch the television etc. Be careful, though some people just don't want to be spoken to." He added the last sentence in an exaggerated whisper. I was that person that didn't want to be spoken to. I wanted to be alone, to get through my sentence in captivity as quickly as possible. The quicker that I could convince the doctor that I was fit to be released- the better. The warden holding me led me to the window, pointing at an old, red-brick building with a green copper roof.
"That's the chapel, you can go there if you want to talk to the pastor. Or, if you want to be alone- it's the perfect place. Sometimes they have events on in there, a nurse'll let you know when that happens." He quickly pulled me away from the window, as if looking out on the real world was a sin. I had no objections, the less time that I spent looking at the outside world, the less sad that I would feel about missing out. Missing out on feeling the wind rustle my hair, the rain soaking my clothes to the point that I was ten times heavier, the sun when it burned my skin to reddish sores.
Coming to the end of the corridor, there was a series of doors. One was apparently my room, which I would share with another male on the ward. He was a sex offender, and proceeded to tell me so as soon as I perched on the edge of my concrete-slab bed. The cotton sheets itched my skin.
Another door was to the boiler room. The last was a thick, iron door with a tiny little window carelessly punched into it. There was a keypad as well as a lock just to get in. There was something- somebody in there that nobody was supposed to see.
"That ward is strictly out of bounds. That's where I am for the majority of my day. I'm Joseph, a warden. If you have any questions there are always nurses in the common room." He waved goodbye, moving from the doorway. I heard him punch a code into the door, twist a key into the lock, and slam the door to signal his exit.
"Want to know what's in there?" The sex offender giggled goofily behind his hand. He leant towards me, the smell of rotting flesh and gum disease escaping from behind his lips.
"Sure." I said, lying down on the itchy sheets. The bed was rock solid, it hurt my back to lie on it.
"Hear about that murder a year or so ago? A guy murdered his parents, and there was a huge SWAT team that broke into their mansion, and it took them hours and hours and hours to find him," He was a shitty storyteller, but as I needed to make at least one friend, I nodded along as he spoke, "And he apparently booby-trapped the entire place, loads of people were hurt and killed. And there were corridors that lead to nowhere, it was like he'd been planning it for years or more." He flashed me his diseased, yellow teeth that would usually hide behind his lips.
"Maybe he had a motive, not all parents are supportive." I shrugged, there's always a method to somebody's madness, everybody deserves to voice an opinion in some shape or form. Maybe not murder- but you get the picture.
"Yeah, don't we all." He rubbed his legs, giggling wickedly. Truthfully, he grossed me out. He needed an urgent dental appointment, maybe a new face entirely, but I'm not one to judge. I'm covered in tattoos, half of which I can't remember the meaning for, and scars from all sorts of trouble that I've managed to find my way into.
"Want to meet some people?" He asked with a grin. I wished that he'd stop showing me his teeth. He definitely fit the child-molester, woman-murdering stereotype. All that he needed was a beige coat and some cheap sunglasses.
"Sounds great." I sat up, following him from the room. I stopped. I could hear shuffling from behind the locked, forbidden door. I told myself that it was just a warden, that it was nothing. But the manic, completely insane laugh that ripped through the air told me otherwise. My curiosity told me that I had to go beyond that door and see whatever, or whoever was behind it.
"He knows." The sex offender said, giggling like a small child.
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Song Of The Chapter- Guns For Hands by Twenty One Pilots
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Psycho Circus (Frerard)
Fanfiction~•<~ After the bloody murder of those closest too him, Gerard Way found himself in solitary confinement at the only remaining asylum. As the maximum security patient, he was locked away from the world. Until a new arrival, struggling with the deepes...
