The Mind of the Insane

I entered the building with flowers in my hand, white lilies to be exact. I was visiting someone I once knew, someone I was once very close with but I don't remember anymore. I remember the person's room number - it had been planted into my mind; 157. I knew that I had to visit this room often.
As I entered, I saw many people; some in wheelchairs being pushed by nurses, some who were breaking things here and there and some in their room, rotting away in the dark void of their minds.
I peeked into one of the rooms; Room 103. There was a little boy, about the age of 7, staring at the window, mumbling to himself. I couldn't hear exactly what he was saying but I could make out some of it. He was repeatedly saying "It wasn't me. I promise you. I'm sorry. Leave me alone. I beg you." The weirdest thing about him was that; his curtains were closed and no sunlight entered the room. What might've happen to this little boy? Maybe it was society that killed him. The bullies in school that abused and assaulted him and left him to die. Who would know?
I continued moving deeper into the asylum. The atmosphere was darker and more intense. I felt the stories of these people. I passed by another room on my left; Room 137. There was an adult with long hair - probably a woman. She was on her bed, curled up and her blanket was torn on the other side of the room. It was as if her blanket gave her a feeling of fear, insecurity, and pain. She was the opposite of a child whose only safe haven was under their blanket. On the floor, there was a stick of half-used up lipstick. I looked at the floor which was lit up by the open windows and saw a scribble that said "I H8 U!!!" in dark red. I looked at the "U" a bit closer and realized; that wasn't lipstick, it was dry blood.
There were 20 rooms left until my destination. The closer I get the more heavy the weight on my heart is. I looked into room 155.
There was an old man. He looked normal except for his mouth; it changed from smiling, frowning and grinning. On one side of the room, there were broken cleaning utensils; a broom snapped in half, torn up sponges, and a cup half-filled with blue liquid and a bottle of blue coloured bleach. Did he try to commit suicide?
Finally, I entered room 157. In the room, there was a bed and a small table next to it. On this bed, was a girl around my age curled up facing the other side. Her hair was messed up and looked as if she just went on a roller coaster on a humid day. The girl was rocking back and forth.
"I'm finally here, how are you feeling?" I asked.
The girl turned around and her face... was frightening. She looked exactly like me... no, she was me. I fell backwards, dropping everything I had with me. The girl smiled... no, grinned evilly. She crawled closer. I tried to move backwards but I was paralyzed. This was inevitable. I can never go back... She creeped closer until...
A new scene flickered and there was another image of the same girl. This time, she was on a wheechair. One moment, she was sitting still being pushed by a nurse and the next moment, she was sitting all alone in the hallway of the asylum, and suddenly she started to laugh. It was not the laugh of happiness but the laugh of the insane.