Psychotic ( A Larry Stylinson Fanfiction)

Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

Wickendale. It was a place full of untold secrets. It kept the notorious hidden, it quieted the outspoken, it detained the insane. It just barely held onto the last bit of sanity of its patients, the pieces of a crumbling puzzle. These broken people either called Wickendale home or hell, depending on how they chose to view it. Judging by its eye-pleasing structure and its extravagant stone steps, one might think it is well-kept and even nice on its inner.

But people with those thoughts couldn't be more wrong. It was a mental institution, after all. You take one look past its large corridors and main offices, you find that there are many other terrors encased in the building than the employees may let on. There are three wards, one for each group of deranged humans. There used to be a children's ward, but that has long since been removed. Each ward has its own nurse's office, main office, guards, and of course, patients.

Tucked away in a far corner of the institution, is Ella Faren. She is on the verge of being moved to the second Ward, her illness progressively getting worse. But very few took note. Because she never showed it, she never spoke the words jumbled in her mind. The only time she had spoken to an employee in a rude manner was a year ago. All she had wanted was a swing, she had said. To make her cell seem her own she had demanded a swing. She hated being still. She wanted to feel like she was flying. So she screamed and cried and yelled and kicked until, finally, the warden had a swing installed in her room to shut her up. And she was happy ever since. Even when it was raining and her room was dark, she sat in her nightgown, swaying back and forth as she smiled and hummed along with the creaking chains.

In another part of the building is Damen Raloff, who's been kept in a straight jacket for as long as he could remember. He was always restrained and had to be spoon-fed whenever he ate, nobody daring to to release him. Because he was self-cannibal. At least that's what they called him. It started with his fingers, then his whole right hand. Then it spread as he started to hunt other people, devouring their human flesh. It had gotten so bad that he almost got transferred to Ward C. But he was actually improving, so he was safe from that treacherous place. For now.

And then there was Cynthia. She had been a patient at Wickendale for many years before her mysterious disappearance. She had murdered her father, yes. In fact she had stabbed him 47 times in the chest. For that she was sent to this institution. She was crazy, they said. She had stabbed her father for no good reason, she must be insane. People shouted accusations and thought they knew what she was. They thought she was a cold-blooded murderer. But they didn't realize that each vicious stab was equivalent to each time her father had took her down to her basement to molest her. He had violated her 47 times, so that number of stabs to the chest didn't seem as bad if people only listened enough to understand her reasoning. But no, Cynthia didn't have proof and nobody would listen, so here she was.

Many different kinds of criminals rested in their cells each night, each with a different story. Some are in fact insane, but others had reason for their crimes. A small few are even innocent. Forced to be kept in order by numerous employees and guards.

These employees that maintain the building also have some insanity within them, though, everyone does. What sets the patients apart is their decision to act upon it. They allowed their madness to overpower their sanity. Other than this decision, though, the patients and employees are really quite similar. In fact, one of these employees are deranged themselves. Someone among the many workers of Wickendale need to be locked up in the building along with the rest, not patrolling its halls. Because one of these employees is a murderer. And there was no telling who will be their next victim..

LOUIS' POV

I was an emotional wreck as I walked out of Lori's office, to say the least. Harry's story had rendered me speechless, and my thoughts had lost any variation as they could only focus on his disheveled curls and beautiful smile. But this time, instead of feeling of fascination or wonder that came with thoughts of Harry were thoughts of adoration and awe. And I was afraid of just how quickly those feelings would develop to those of love under Harry's spell. Because once that happened I don't know how long I could handle seeing him locked up in the filth and cruelty of this building, and I don't know how long I would be able to refrain from kissing him. Which I could sadly never do because I would surely lose my job and also my mind.