- Reads 12
- Votes 2
- Parts 1
- Time <5 mins
Ongoing, First published Dec 27, 2015
I've heard some stories. The ones about me. Who I used to be. But nobody will tell me how i got here. Here, is were the wails and moans of my fellow sick inmates haunt me every night. Where everything is white, and clean. We don't have beds, because the entire room is made of mattress. Here where we are given pills to confuse us. Why am i here? And why wont they tell me my name.All Rights Reserved
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