(Novocaine)
Nine AM: Breakfast.
A dry breakfast of the usual stale toast with out-of-date butter. A piece of old summer fruit with more preservatives injected into it than Madonna's face. A glass of water that was probably just dunked into the sewers and served up on a silver platter. That's all. Nothing more. Of course, I don't eat it anyway. I never do. It's not like I have an eating disorder or whatever, it's more that I just want to piss off Dr. Holland.
Eleven AM: Group Therapy
An hour of 'talking about how we feel'. There's me, Mikey Way, Brendon Urie, Frank Iero, Tyler Joseph and Marilyn Manson. I know exactly what's wrong with all of them.
Mikey Way- Depression. Attempted suicide five times.
Brendon Urie- ADD and schizophrenia.
Frank Iero- Psychopathic. Not quite like me, but he's fucked up in the head.
Tyler Joseph- Sees and hears things that aren't there. Sometimes, late at night, you can hear him talking to someone called Josh. I once asked Mikey about that. He says Josh isn't real.
And Marilyn Manson- Like Frank, psychopathic but not murderous.
And then there's me. I don't speak. But I glare at everyone and ignore Dr. Holland when he asks me about how my day was, or about what I think should happen this Christmas.
One PM: Lunch
More shitty food that I don't eat. The guards try to persuade me into eating, but I don't listen.
Three PM: Outside Activities
I hate Three PM: Outside Activities. I sit in the corner of the small garden, trying to ignore Frank jumping around and Tyler muttering to his 'mocha-eyed boy', and Brendon getting excited at a flower and then a bee. Mikey sits in another corner and we sometime make eye contact, but never talk. Marilyn wanders around with a large non-friendly grin on his face, like someone told him he could terrorise little kids while they're sleeping. Wait no. That's my fantasy. My bad.
Six PM: Dinner
Surprise, surprise. More shit food. This time it's some form of meat that I eat quickly. The rest, I ignore.
Nine PM: Lights Out
And finally, the night comes back to kill me in my dreams, just like Krueger. Yay me.
That's the schedule. The routine. And that will never change.
YOU ARE READING
Seven Nation Army (DISCONTINUED)
FanfictionPrevious Title: He's My American Beauty. Pete Wentz is a psychopath. He doesn't know right from wrong, good from bad. But he does know he's in love with Patrick, the new kid in the asylum. And he hates it.
