In this Madhouse, there is more than one patient. The walls are littered with the stories of countless men and women who have come seeking sanctity from their own minds. Shattered remnants of broken psyches lay littered on the floor, in rotting beds, in crumbling walls... These are the Scribblings from the Asylum Walls. Welcome to the Madhouse...

I gasp, but no sound is made against the trees’ overwhelming screams. I look up through the breaks in the black branches to see scarlet seeping into the cloud encompassed sky, as if my own blood was staining it, pouring my life into it.