The Life of Twitchy Tee

Chapter One

(THE ENTIRE STORY IS IN TEE'S POV UNLESS IT SAYS OTHERWISE.)

I struggled against the stupid piece of fabric, and bit at the whatever-it-was on my mouth. God damn it! How long had I been here?

I felt my body twitch a bit, after that I started struggling again. I've been in the damned straitjacket for a while, but, come on, I only stabbed her a little! Just with scissors, too! I made her death quick, I promise, not much pain! No words came out of my mouth because of the goddamn whatever-it-was on it. The doctors said they were here to help, here to make it better, but they only made everything worse!

The sudden realization that I'd be here forever slapped me across the face. Or maybe it was the bright light in my room being turned on. I don't know.

"Come on, it's time for your daily anger management classes." the doctor cooed to me, smiling softly. One of the fakest smiles I'd ever seen, but I'm sure they don't enjoy this job anyways. I tried, again, to bite off whatever was around my mouth as the doctor walked me to the room. "You're not allowed to take that off, sweetie. Your teeth could hurt someone." she smiled sickly sweetly as she pushed me lightly into my room, quickly closing the door after me.

My teeth could hurt someone. I'm sure that's true. I'd sharpened them to points after I'd killed the bitch, because, why not? It hurt, but I like them more now.

They're prettier.

I was still in my straitjacket, but my legs were freed instead of tied up now. I felt the cage-like thing that was around my mouth slide off. It could always do that, I just chose not to let it, because violence wasn't necessary, yet.

My leg had a bit of one of its spazz-moments (curse you, Tourette's), and I almost tripped, and from that, I heard other patients snicker. I bared my teeth at them and shut them up. The patients were seperated with glass walls, but we could still hear eachother clearly through tiny holes in them. The teacher doctor person was behind one big glass wall, and there was a guard in every glass-wall-cell thing. The guards were armed to their toes with guns and weapons, and I almost smiled at the sight of the scar I inflicted upon one of them a while ago.

I sat down in the chair in the middle of the glass cell, and the teacher doctor person began, as they did every time, by asking our name and what we had done to have to go to anger management classes, or, as the teacher doctor whatever person said, 'bad mood removal classes.' Hah, sure. The usual people were here, some unable to speak because of their mental 'disabilities', and guards had to speak for them.

Most of  the people here had murdered. Including me. All of that murder was out of anger and hatred. They aren't getting rid of those emotions from me, the idiots. Are they that stupid? Apparently so. The teacher doctor's yammering about how to stay calm was really getting on my nerves. Like, really annoying. I shot up and kicked my chair into the glass wall, earning some cracking from it. The guard instantly had his gun pointed at my head, and I smiled and said, "Go ahead. Shoot. I won't mind."

The guard sighed and turned around, putting his head on the cold wall.

Bad move, friend.

I launched myself onto him and did some kind of spin thing around him, using my teeth to rip his throat out. Blood came out of his throat and mouth, and pooled onto the floor. I heard a shriek from the teacher doctor, and almost instantly, I was back in my cell in the asylum, and not the glass cell.

I wanted to sob. I wanted to scream, and cry, and thrash about. But this straitjacket prevented me from doing anything.

I just wanted to be free.