I've been locked up for 528 days. They will never find the body of my first true love. They haven't searched the bottom of the lake yet. They say I'm mad. But I'm not. They say things, I hear. I say things, they can't hear. They told me to apologise. But he's already dead. I'm not mad. Yet I found myself laughing at their stupid assumptions from behind the bars that kept freedom out of reach. Tears rolled down my face, my mouth stretched into a grin. I'm not Mad...