Seven Nation Army (DISCONTINUED)

I Don't Believe In What You Say

(Where Did The Party Go)

Unsurprisingly, I get a hell of a lecture from Camper about how it's not okay to punch people, but 'of course you wouldn't know that, you have ASPD'.

Surprisingly, and to my delight, I'm not put in SC.

Patrick's still hanging around, and it looks like he will be for a while. He even has a lanyard now.

All the nurses and escorts have lanyards, each lanyard describing their patient or patients so people know who they're assigned to. Like the Mexican one, who I now know is called Vic, he has a lanyard with a photo of the pale boy and his name, age, height, weight, everything. Mine's the same. A picture in the top right corner and all the information underneath.

Apparently Patrick is talking to Camper about my condition- his words, not mine. I think I'm perfectly fine. A little overwhelmed, but fine.

I was diagnosed with ASPD when I was fourteen. My parents got worried because I never took interest in anything, and I saw a psychiatrist for a few years. Then got shoved in here.

I had a lawyer for a while who actually thought it was a misdiagnosis. She tried to get me out, but couldn't find anyone who would back her up and support a psycho. I told her I didn't care about where I was going, just that I wanted to make a friend, and she said I need to tell that to the psych I saw. But, psych didn't listen. Now I'm here. Friendless.

Maybe it was a misdiagnosis. I mean, I don't feel like a psychopath. Aren't they supposed to be all emotionless killers or whatever? Or like that detective, what was his name? Famous, always solving stupidly hard cases..

Sherlock. That's his name.

I don't think I'm like him at all. He was perfectly happy on his own, but I dread the idea of Solitary Confinement. He finds a crime scene and gets right into it, honestly I have no interest in stuff like that. Yeah, I'm violent, but I'm not a killer.

Who knows. I'll be dead before they find out what really happened. And by then, there'll be no one left to remember my name.

"Fame!"

I jump. Jesus, what the hell was that?! I stomp out of my room to find Brendon staring at the tiny television screen. "We're famous!" He squeals at me. Oh no, here we go.

"What are you on about, Urie." I go over and look up at the tiny pixelated man behind a desk on the screen. Beside his head is the hospital symbol. I can't tell what they're talking about, the volume's always muted, but it looks bad. I just shake my head and turn to go back to my room. But Brendon inhales sharply and I turn around, widening my eyes at the face on the screen.

That's my goddamn face.