The silent twist of fate is most cruel, for I will bleed raw in your arms.
Rosie knows she's destined to, how to say it - bite the dust before she turns twenty five. Every night, the same dream. And every morning? The same horror she seems to be li...
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Dear my beloved,
The asylum was cold. Much colder than what I was used to. The first night, they shoved me into a cell which had a creaky ass bed, and I was too frightened to even fall asleep. One night of peace from my terror didn't overcome the trauma I gained.
Each night, something new. My dreams started to become fuzzier and in flashes. Sometimes they repeated. Day by day, week by week, the cycle never stopped. And neither did the taunting of the other in-mates in the same corridor as me. Why the fuck they put a seven year old girl next to a 'schizophrenic' serial killer is WAYY beyond me. At least Dan showed me some appreciation and gave some good life tips. (I'm not talking about the guide of 'how to kill someone in seventy ways'). Maybe he was a pedophile, or maybe he wanted someone to talk to. I'll never know.
The food they gave tasted like cow shit. By the time I'd spent a few months at the asylum, I dropped half my weight. I was practically bone on bone. The inmates would always ask me
"Did you commit some little pathetic crime? It can't be more pathetic than you are, girl" Some guys spat.
I still remember closing my eyes, silently disgusted at the increasing wetness on my eyelids. But I knew not to say anything. I knew not to give a reaction. I didn't want a repeat of month 2 where I back chatted to an old man and he gave me a black eye. Never.
One woman said, "I don't claim for you to belong to the females. You don't seem insane enough."
Even in an asylum, I was an outcast. And even though I wasn't the type to hate being alone, I will never forget (or forgive myself for that matter) what I stupidly did next.
