bremcfarland suggested a few paragraphs months ago to display the first day in the asylum. I just thought about it and finally have time to do it, so here you go.

P.s. check out her stories. My absolute favorite would be "Saint Rebel."

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I sat in my cold, dimly lit room like a prisoner. The white bricked walls were chipped here and there, the olive green tiles bore a few red stains as well. The musky, unidentifiable smell that lingered in the air made breathing feel like a chore.

The booming sound of thuds, which resembled crashing of bodies, followed by dreadful screams caused me to quake from fear. "I can't do this. I can't live like this. I ca--"

The door slowly swung open and I stopped midway through my sentence to stare at it as it did so. One of the people who worked there came in wearing a white uniform, cap and mask. He also carried a faded blue gown, under clothes and pale white socks.

"Get up and get dressed," its masculine, brash voice ordered me. After tossing the clothes onto the bed, he stood there with his arms folded. "Everyone goes to the rec room around this time."

"What time is it," I asked while pulling myself off of the cold bed.

He rolled his eyes, then turned around so I could change. "Breakfast is at six, lunch is at ten thirty and dinner is around nine. Lights out is nine thirty."

"When do we shower," I asked with furrowed eyebrows to match my narrowed eyes as I swiftly changed into my new clothes.

"Enough with the questions. Get out so I can show you around."

I sighed before walking over to the door and stepping into the cold, bright hallway. I scanned the halls and noticed translucent doors where dark figures trudged behind them.

"Are those people," I asked him while pointing to the doors.

He stood next to me, slapped my hand down, then pushed me towards the hall leading to a grey double door with foggy windows.

"Is that the bathroom," I asked while walking over to it with him close by.

"Ask me another question. Please do it," he spoke with annoyance clear in his tone.

I swallowed hard and tried to catch my breath as we soon made our way to the tall, mysterious doors. I could hear talking coming from behind the doors, which brought a smile to my gloomy face. I'm not alone.

He pushed the doors open, then me before shutting them back. I looked over my right shoulder at the closed door, then back at the diverse room.

Everyone seemed to get along for the most part, we all wore the same clothes and this room didn't smell half as bad as my room.

I walked over to a dingy sofa with my legs pressed together, leaving my body tense. A sigh escaped my lips and I shook my head. "This is just ─ wrong."

I looked around again, hoping and praying that at least one person would be my age, but everyone looked around my brothers' and parents' ages.

After a few hours of solitude, I decided to play a few games with the elderly patients.

One if the most popular games in this place seems to be Wahoo!

Two female patients explained the game to me before we began setting up. I must admit it was quite enjoyable. I won three times in a row.

"Lights out," a female orderly yelled out.

Everyone groaned except for me. I was just confused as to why we weren't served any meals yet or taken for cleaning.

***

The first few weeks here were rough. There's a bunch of lunatics screaming randomly and staring at me. Especially in the recreation room, which was annoying because whenever I came close to winning in Wahoo some guy would yell out and mess me up. It's fine though, I mean those guys with the white clothes and white sick masks over their mouths always take them to the back.

I wonder what this place is. It's so scary. It always smells like death and mildew. Whenever I go to bed the people near my area would scream and I'd hear what sounded like drills. My arms hurt so badly from those long needles the strange people would prick me with. I don't understand, I've never been bad or anything.

I let out a weary sigh. "I wish I could go home. I wish that Betty was here to keep me company."

A gentle tap on my shoulder made me flinch. I turned around quickly and smiled when I realized who it was: It was Betty. We hugged and walked over to one of the mucky sofas. We sat down and I furrowed my eyebrows when I noticed her staring at my gown and filthy socks. I followed her gaze and my face turned red from embarrassment.

"They make us all wear these," I confessed meekly.

She sighed, then smiled faintly, but I can tell it was fake. It always is. It's why I hate her so much, but I also love her because of the attention that she'd give me.

"Ciao," A soft voice spoke from behind me.

Betty and I turned our heads around to see a girl who looked like a child. She had messy, waist length, tightly curled black hair, dark brown eyes and light freckles over her small nose. The dim lighting managed to illuminate her heart-shaped face making the scar on her left cheek barely visible.

Her arms were stained with scars from the injections as well. I smiled at her. "Hey. I'm Melody and this is Betty." I introduced us, motioning towards Betty when I said her name.

The strange girl just stared at the seat with a clearly confused expression, "There's no one there."

I looked at Betty and shook my head before turning my attention back to the girl, "What's your name?" I asked politely despite feeling the anger boiling inside of me.

"Annabelle."

She smiled. Her teeth were yellow and covered in plaque. I made a disgusted expression which made her frown instantly, "Um, so, you're new here, huh?"

I nodded and she continues speaking, "I've been here for a really long time. I don't know exactly, I mean after a while the time seems to become funny."

"What is this place," I asked. My eyes grew to the size of saucers when she told me where I was.

"This is an asylum. When my parents dropped me off I saw the sign outside."

Her calm voice scared me. Why was this girl so calm? Maybe she needs to be here, but I sure as hell don't. I'm normal.

She cleared her throat, clearly meaning to interrupt my thoughts, or so I assumed. I also hated that about some people, but Annabelle was making me angrier than I've been in ages.

Usually, I can control myself, but after being thrown away like a moldy dress, I've developed a lot more hostility.

I stand up and I walk over to her. Towering over her frail and short body, I speak through my teeth.

"Don't make me angry," I say and she gives me a confused look. "You won't like it when I'm angry."

She lowered her head, which made me smile. Her shoulders rose and fell rapidly before she broke out in loud sobs. She looked up at me and I could see the tears staining her cinnamon-colored cheeks. I scared her.

Remorseful, I looked around at all of the watchful eyes, then shushed her when I noticed a few of the orderlies walking over. I stared into her teary, fearful eyes and begged her to stop, but to no avail.

She only sobbed louder and like a strong wind, the orderlies ran over, grabbed her by her brown arms and dragged her to the back. Something was wrong with this poor girl and I was determined to find out what so I could help.

I also always wanted a baby sister.