Psychotic | Harry Styles

one

"For the last fucking time! I'm not crazy!" I shout at the bloody nun who keeps coming, and bothering me. She tries to touch me, and I jerk at her touch, the harnesses restraining me tight on my limbs, and core, my chest rising and falling at a fast pace.

"You are a murderer, A sinner you need to be cleansed." She says, her thick southern accent haunting me, as it's been for the past few days.

"I love my wife! I would never hurt her!" I insist, looking at her with hard eyes, I couldn't believe she, and the rest of the world thought I was responsible for this shit.

"Then explain to the police why she's dead." She says before leaving me to my thoughts.

The door opens, and I lift my aching head too quickly. Thank God it's only a nurse, she enters, a small needle drawn between her latex gloved fingers, she sticks it in my skin, and I watch her without resistance. It's the big needles you've got to worry about. She leaves, and a man comes in, unbuckling the straps holding down my arms and legs. That shot was only to calm me down, it was probably time to eat. Time didn't exist in here, in the worst way possible. There weren't any clocks around, you were lucky if you caught a glimpse of one of the visitor's. And it was the same shit everyday, meds, "treatment", resistance, punishment, meds, sleep if you're lucky. I wasn't so fortunate. I'd drift in and out, my only dreams nightmares, and the rest of my time consumed with anxiety.

"Come with me." She says, leading me out of my confinement. Two of the big guys in all white stray behind me, as I walk with her.

"And don't get any ideas." One hisses in my ear, his hot breath makes me wanna knock him the fuck out.

I walk into the 'social hall' where the rest of the freaks hang out. I keep to myself, ignoring the snide ass comments from the whore Candy. She's in here because she can't seem to keep things out of her fucking womanhood, it's extremly unholy according to Sister Ruth.
If you ask me she's had one too many heartbreaks from the men you'd catch gambling at the bars, I wonder how she'd turn out if someone made her a housewife.

"C'mon, if you bone me you might just feel a little better about all those women you killed.." She presses, running her disgusting hands over my chest, I jerk back, glaring at her.

"Don't touch me." I warn, biting my tongue.

"I heard you killed a nigger-woman, she black on the inside too?" She says, I grab her by the shoulders, slamming her against the wall.

"Don't call her that." I say through gritted teeth, beyond furious that people could be so hateful. Strong arms, grab me, and yank me away from her, and I realize what I just did.

"I'm sorry.." I say sincerely to the woman who snickers as I'm being dragged out of the common area, and down the hallway with flickering lights.

I try to catch my breath, as I'm nearly high off of an unfamiliar adrenaline, I'm slammed onto a table, trying to fight all of the hands that hold me down, it's no use, the shots they give me make me weaker.

I wake up in the dark.

"You are a monster." Ruth says, making me grit my teeth. She pulls the lever, beginning the shock "therapy" to cure me of my "unholiness". My skin screams along side my voice, I ache and burn everywhere, as if the place isn't hell enough, the pain is unexplainably excruciating.