Reality, or imagination. A Joseph oda x first person reader pov story.
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- Parts 4
Darkness. That's all I remember. I awake in a dirty, dingy room, no idea where I am. There's a pain in my side, for some reason, my head is hurting a lot, and there's all these thoughts circling in my mind. Mostly about that guy, Ruvik, who was burnt, damaged, covered in a bloodied, dirtied cloak. And all these other thoughts I can't keep up with. I wonder if Leslie escaped, and, why didn't he kill me? I composed myself, but realized.I need to get out of here. Cause I have a feeling something's going to happen. Something worse. And it's not going to be pretty.
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#25
thewattys
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December twentieth is the day I remember being brought into the asylum for the first time. Like any typical psychopath, I screamed. I cried. I remember snatching the nurse's hair until she screamed and I was slapped into unconsciousness and thrown into the room. The only difference? I wasn't a psychopath. For the first few days, I would cry maniacally upon hearing any nurse go by, to catch one's attention and tell her that I wasn't insane. "That's exactly what an insane person would say" They said, unbothered and it was as if my fate rested in the mouldy walls of the Asylum. And I soon realized that there was no use fighting for my life now .Which brings me to the present day, another one that I'll mark in history with red. The day I met him.
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