"I don't suffer from my insanity- I enjoy every minute of it." -Sherrilyn Kenyon

-

"Oh, oh, now it's my turn! Ask me!" Harry says excited. We've been sitting in the dining hall with our disgusting bowls of porridge but playing Would You Rather has made the morning a little better. There is no secluded corner- since nearly all of the institution's inmates are in the hall at the same time- but Harry and I have found a space away from everyone.

"Okay, would you rather... kiss a snail or eat a live goldfish?" I ask, and Harry knits his eyebrows in concentration as he thinks. He rubs his chin and expels a heavy breath.

"I'm gonna have to go with kissing a snail. I cringe at the thought of biting down on a flopping goldfish." Harry says, bending his head down to mess his curls before pushing them back again. It seems like a natural habit he has.

I've been having so much fun, I almost forget that I'm in a mental institution. Life sure isn't the same but it's actually kind of nice to have someone to really talk to, someone to smile and laugh with.

"Fair enough." I say, forcing the porridge into my mouth. What other option do I have than to starve?

"Don't worry, the food gets better when you're used to it. Every week, we get a piece of fresh fruit just for the sake of it. That's what I enjoy the most." Harry tells me, rubbing his hands together. I nod.

Looking for the nearest garbage bin, I dump out the porridge and put the aluminum bowl on top of the cart to be reused.

"Um, Harry," I fumble nervously, returning to my seat, "Yesterday evening...before I bumped into you, there was a demon-possessed woman."

Harry chuckles. "Be more specific, there are ton of those here."

"Well, she was cutting herself with a key and she had her hair in front of her face and she was screaming weird things about Satan."

Harry's eyebrows shoot up. "Ah, you mean Cecilia. She's from my ward."

"Which is?" I ask.

"Ward C." He responds, a bit grimly. And suddenly, my skin crawls and the hairs on my arms stand again. It makes sense for Cecilia to be admitted into Ward C, but Harry?

"What?" He snaps, almost.

"Nothing." I say quickly, shaking my head.

"You've got something to say, say it!" Harry says, eyebrows furrowed and jaw tensed. When his hands slam down on the table, I jerk back with wide eyes. There is something behind his eyes I can't read; something far from insanity. His gaze is something more distant; foggy; nostalgic, even. Looking around, I realize that everyone else's is exactly the same. I back away as fast as possible.

"I- I have to go." I splutter, breaking eye contact and turning around to head out.

"Wait!" Harry's voice says and when I turn around again, he has the cheeky smile back on like nothing happened.
"I don't even know your name yet."

"I'm sorry, I'll tell you my name another time."

With that, I rush out of the dining hall, sprinting through the corridors, avoiding any disturbing sight I might come across. What's wrong with Harry? He seems pretty normal and claims to be, but now I'm sort of questioning it. I stop at a halt at the Ward A room before going directly to my bed. I plop myself down on it, reach under to pull out my admission forms and my eyes trail straight to the thumbprint and date at the bottom.

November 4th, 1963

At the sight of the year, my heart skips a beat before hammering erratically against my ribcage. This can't be possible. The documentation must be out of date.

"Woah, your name is Grace?" I don't notice Harry's head of curls in the papers until he gasps. He is seated right beside me, eyes wide.

"Why are you here?" I ask, wondering how he got into a Ward A room without being caught.

"Your name is Grace?" He repeats, looking awestruck. I roll my eyes.

"Yes, and?"

"Well you look like a Diana, or Evie, or Sabrina, or Olivia, or-"

"What year is it?" I ask, cutting Harry off from his pointless ramble.

"Oh, it's 1963." He says, squirming at the edge of my bed. I bring my attention to the form again, gluing my eyes to the date and secretly hoping it would change. Harry's fidgeting becomes annoying so I push him off with my feet and he falls to the ground with a soft thud.

"Ow, my bum!" He pouts but I don't look, nor do I apologize. I get up from the bed.

"Wait, I'll be back, I need to speak to Sister Theresa."