RED

One

Here's the first thing they don't tell you about mental hospitals. The smell. I'm sorry, I meant Rehabilitation Centres for the Mentally Ill. That's what this one's called anyway. I saw it on the way in. Right next to the monkey doing cartwheels off the wall in slow motion.

I suppose I should clear one thing up: I'm not insane. I was drugged on the way here. That explains the monkey, for one thing. As for why I'm here...well, that may take a while. Here's the summary for all you people with the attention span of a fly on caffeine.

My friends (read family) went missing. As a guy that's not very approachable, I went looking for them in a not-very-nice-way. I'm sorry, I don't have time for formalities. Look, what I'm trying to say is that some people lost their lives on the days that I went out. I mean, they did sorta have it coming...

Anyway, the point is that I got sloppy. Careless. Next thing I know, the fuzz shows and boom. Here I am.

The second thing they never tell you about mental hospitals? The service is terrible. The staff literally push you everywhere. One star. Read my Yelp review.

Another thing: the therapy sessions. Are they trying to make me lose my mind? Today I was graced with the presence of Dr. Something-or-another. I don't remember. I was too busy examining the straitjacket for a way out. None so far. If there was, there'd be several more dead bodies and a considerable amount of smoke and shattered glass.

"Excuse me? I asked you a question." Dr. Something-or-another peers at me from over a clipboard held close to her face. Mid-forties, probably. And probably hoping for an early retirement. She sighs and pushes her glasses further up her nose. "I'll repeat the question for you. Are you dealing with any negative thoughts or feelings, Mr.–"

"Ah," I say, cutting her off. I hate it when people know my real name. Or use it. I play up the act of who she thinks I am. Or what I'm supposed to be. Invincible. Merciless. Ruthless. A smile grows on my face and I plaster it wider and wider. "See, ma'am, thanks for askin', real nice of ya'. But as for feelings, well, I'd invite you to dance with me around them, but this is a one-man show, right here."

The security guard standing in my peripheral vision slaps me. Alright, I had it coming. The act was definitely too much. " Answer the damn question, Hood."

I turn as much as I can to face him, smirking. He knows who I am. The Hood. Yes, he knows and he's scared. Good. If it wasn't for this damned straitjacket, he'd be passed out ( at best) in ten seconds tops. Doctor Lady too.

I look back at Doctor Lady. She's scribbling notes down furiously on her clipboard. Does she really think I'm that crazy? I scoff at myself. It doesn't matter. I'll be out of this place in a month, at worst. Less, if they would put me in the same room every day. Or kept me sober.

The guards wheel me back to the "living quarters." It doesn't deserve that name at all. But I know why they keep me here. They're all scared of me. And it brings a burst of delirious laughter bubbling up to my chest. Me, laughing while being wheeled down to my new quarters, completely strapped down to prevent any deaths. One would think it only solidifies the rumour that I'm insane.

And honestly, I don't care. These fools are going to be dead within days. And soon, I'll be rebuilding my invisible fortress in the sky with my friends. I sigh. I just need to figure out how to trick the minds behind this entire institution first.