the mental asylum reject

chapter 1

The smell of stale pee woke me up. I blinked a few times, trying to remember where I was. I yawned before opening my eyes fully to examine the room I was in. The first thing that I noticed was that everything was white. The walls, door, ceiling, carpet, rugs and furniture all consisted of the same dull, boring colour. There was a large bucket in the corner of the room, and I assumed that that was where the smell was coming from. There were no windows, either. Luckily for me though, it was daytime. A tray lay to my right. On the tray, was a bottle of water and a sandwich, which were slightly out of my reach.

I glanced down at my swollen ankle. There was a thick, rusty chain clamped onto it, leading all the way from the wall, squeezing at my swolen and now pale flesh. I jumped a mile when I saw my clothes. I was wearing a tight black t-shirt, which was ripped and now hanging off of my body, clinging to me by only a few thin strands of fabric. I was also wearing a pair of black skinny jeans, which were also torn to shreds, and my feet were bare , and I had a weird plastic band on my unswolen ankle. Shivering, I reached out and gently applied pressure to my swolen ankle. I shrunk back as an immense pain shot up my leg, taking my knee and thigh by storm. Ignoring the agony, I fumbled with the old chain that was attached to my leg. I scraped at the rust with my nail, until I eventually saw a small red button at the back. I pressed the button, and let out a sigh of relief as the chain unlatched from my leg.

I must have been there for hours, because my legs now felt incredibly numb. I lent back carefully on my elbows, as I struggled to get up. I stood and rolled up my trouser legs, so that I could see the extent of my injuries. I was covered in scratches and bruises, but nothing too serious. That's when I noticed my hands. They were covered in blood, the thick, velvet red kind that was impossible to get off once it had dried. Pushing away any reasoning of why I had blood on my hands in the first place, I swiftly wiped my hands on my already dirty and torn jeans, and began to walk towards the door. I hesitated for a moment. Did I really want to see what was out there? Who was responsible for locking me up in the first place? And considering the fact that I didnt even remember who I was, let alone how I got here, it was a big risk to take. I thought about it for a moment. I NEEDED to find out what was out there. I NEEDED to escape!