Dear Officer Jemma

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Dear Officer Jemma,

Screams echo down the hallway. I've been here long enough to know which scream belongs to which patient. Scarlet's getting electroshock therapy right now. I can hear the tiny whimpers she gives off after each shock. Everyone dreads the red door.

Strangely enough the blue one bothers me the most. I've always had a phobia of water. I'm not fond of the notion of drowning. The feeling of being encased in freezing waters is not something I wish to revisit. They're not keen on being very gentle.

Krystal's wail comes from the white door. She's a violent soul. She ends up in there a lot. I've been in there once. It was a white hell. I never hit back again. It was almost as suffocating but much quieter than what's behind the black door. The walls seemed to be caving in on me.

How are we supposed to get better if all they do is make us worse? How is Shiea going to get over the loss of her unborn if they don't stop reminding her of the pain. This pace confuses me.

The guards tend to like me because I'm quiet and let them do as they please. I've earned enough of their trust for them to give me this notebook and pen. The thing is, no one should ever trust a sociopath with anything ever.

These doors may be closed at night, but these iron bars can't hold me when the guards love me. There will be no survivors. Screw the blue, red, white, green & black doors. Screw the "doctors" and the perverted guards. No prison can hold me. That is what this place is. They say it's a hospital. It's not. They will. learn. The world will learn, just as it will burn.

Love, Silvia

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