𝐆𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 (𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐙! 𝐟𝐟)

𝙲𝙷. 𝟸𝟽 ☯︎︎ 𝙾𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚗 𝙿𝚝. 𝟸

𝙼𝚊𝚡 𝙲𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝

☯︎

Guilty.
Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.

The only words that he's heard ever since he got into this mess.

Why did he have to have an episode on that damned day? Why did he have to witness the whole thing? Why did he have to pay attention and go snooping into that dead man's apartment instead of minding his own business like he usually does?

He just had to hear the yells of the man getting stabbed on the flat above his. He just had to get curious and leave his flat to inspect the other man's flat. He just had to...

The sudden buzzing of his cell brings the man out of whatever pondering he was just in, startling him a bit. He stands up quickly from his bed, scooting over slowly to the toilet in this small compartment they call a room and waiting patiently for whatever it is that's going on to make sense to him.

The metal door of his room clicks open as whoever is controlling it from outside of A-Block, his section in the Asylum, presses the button to open his room.

As the door slowly opens to reveal who is on the other side, the security guard speaking over the intercom that's controlling things from the control center barks orders at him to follow.

Put your hands behind your head.

Get on your knees.

Keep your head low.

Don't speak.

Don't make eye contact.

The routine instructions every time a guard comes into his room. He follows the orders robotically, having them ingrained into his head and beat into his body from all of his prior attempts at escaping.

Originally, he was placed in C-Block with the other patients who have been accused and convicted of Second-Degree murder. With each of his attempts to escape, he was bumped up and up until he was placed under Maximum security in A-Block with the serial killers imprisoned in this asylum.

He wasn't allowed to speak to anyone, he wasn't allowed time out in the yard with the other patients, he wasn't allowed any communication via mail or anything else; it was hell on earth for him.

And as if it couldn't get any worse, they'd make him wear a shock collar in case he got too out of hand, but he didn't need to get out of hand for the guards to use it on him. Sometimes they would make him starve for days at a time or even mess with his head knowing that he was a schizophrenic.

Every day he would wake up to the purgatory that his life was and every night the haunting images of the death he witnessed would play over and over. There was no escape for him.

"Wakey, wakey, you freak!" One of the two guards that came to get him this time cackles after slamming his hand twice on the side of the door that slid to the right, sending a small shiver down the imprisoned man's spine.

The first guard walks over to where he is kneeling on the floor, chuckling to himself at how timid the man looks.

"You freaking scum." The guard pushes his head roughly, almost making him bang his head against the metal toilet. "Get your ass up."