In fairly nice room is where I will start. Telling my story of a dark and twisted misery. This room seemed to have nothing wrong with it, but ahh that was the beauty! Turn a corner and this is where I must leave you, can't get caught trespassing can we? Aha! Oh don't worry, I'll be back! I do enjoy telling my tales, I will never understand the horrified faces people get when I tell them, but oh none the matter! For now my dear friend I do believe it would be in my best interest to let this part of the story be told to you by a more rational person, no? Well weather you agree with me or not, here you go!
"Gasp" I sat, blood dripping down my hands. What had been done here? The crimson liquid still felt warm, how had I gotten to this place?
Lay before me was a person, lying stiff. They were dead, and I already knew who had done it. The one being that was slowly eating me from the inside out. The completely malevolent person that is said to be a figment of my imagination. It was the only explanation, he had taken over, again. Allow me to explain, my name is Mike. I'm just your average seventeen year old guy, all except for one thing. I have been living my life halfway. I suffer from MPD multiple personality disorder, and let's just say my roommate and I don't get along very well. For good reason too. My other personality calls himself Mal. He is a complete psychopath, a homicidal maniac, and he has no value for human life. He has gotten me thrown not only into juvie, but a psyc ward also. He has committed murder, an laughed about it in the cortroom. He gains pleasure out of seeing people in pain. I can only imagine what form of torture this poor soul lying in front of me, would have went through by the hands of Mal. Suddenly my ears picked up the sound of sirens in the distance. I gravely stood up, pushing my hands through my slightly greasy auburn hair. A deep intake of breath caused my body to loosen up. I could still feel my muscles quivering from whatever physical labor Mal had to do to take this poor mans life. My muscles tensed back up and I shuttered as I herd the sirens getting closer. Beneath me my feet shuffled like a confused litter of puppies, and I took off sprinting in the direction of a cornfield. I would not get caught again. I would not be wrongly accused of a murder I didn't commit. So I did what I had to do, I ran.
