Story cover for HAPPY HOMETOWN. by plasticlimbs
HAPPY HOMETOWN.
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Ongoing, First published Oct 02, 2019
Welcome to Happy Hometown Mental Hospital, where we turn your child's frown, into a smile.



{Disclaimer: Please, for God's sake, don't come waltzing into my book, and nitpick about it. I haven't been to a mental ward, or facility, necessarily. So don't say 'oh they don't do that' or 'actually, they do this' I don't care, got it? I give little fucks about your opinions. My book, my rules. Don't like it? Well, lucky for you there's an exit button. Enjoy.}
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PROLOGUE: X: I don't have a name? I don't know who I am? I never have. Everyone calls me X like the letter. I live in a hospital for mentally ill people. But. I am not mentally ill. I never have been. I don't know why, or how I got here? But all I do know is that I don't deserve to be here but we all know why im really here its because they think i'm... different... Tana: I've always liked the colour red. Red, is for rage, and anger, but it also means love and roses. How I love roses. My name is....well i was never given one, my parents didn't care enough i suppose but everyone calls me Tana. I've been stuck in a hospital without knowing why? My sister couldn't take care of me so I was placed in this hospital? I've always wondered why? Sometimes I wonder why I have to be so...different... CA$H: My name is CA$H. No one knows my real name and no one ever will! I am taking that shit to my grave. I have been in this dumb ass facility for two years now. Because I'm supposedly Ill like they have to be high or something right. Because I am not crazy. I KNOW I'm not. I think they put me in here because I'm... different... Ian: "Sometimes, happy memories hurt the most." That is the worst quote ever. How can happy memories hurt and be sad? If I had true, real happy memories I would never complain. Because to have happy memories you need to have sad ones. The meaning of life, what does that even mean? What does anything mean anymore? Maybe they're all right. Maybe I am just too...different...
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The Torment

10 parts Complete Mature

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.