Another day went by. They all sort of merge together when you're in that room for so long. I can see the old apple turning brown in the corner. I chuckle. One step closer to becoming a decomposed mess. For a guy who's scared of the dark, my head always goes to dark places. When I'm not being paranoid. I'm not always thinking of grim things or being nervous, though. Despite what you may think, I am a human being. It's just that... not many people treat me like it.
My name is Simon Minter. I'm twenty three and counting. I've been in this asylum for about a month and counting. I've been in isolation for three days and counting. I've made too many enemies. And counting. I've made three friends. I'm not counting those anymore. Not after what I did.
The morning rolls along, and I get another rotten apple, followed by a decent one. It doesn't have a message, but the sentiment remains the same. Another morning, another apple. Three more mornings go by, each with a rotten apple and a healthy apple. And then the apples stop. Nothing passes under that door. Not a drop of water. Not a crumb of food. I begin to panic. What if they're leaving me in here? They said ten days. It's been six. I know I can survive just about without food and water for four days, but if they're not giving me the promised food, what other promises will they break. When day eight rolls by, I begin banging on the metal door. I bang until my fists are red with blood. Nothing. Not even a ''Shut up, Minter.'' I slump to the floor and hug my knees. Making a paranoid patient paranoid will not make him less paranoid. Flawless logic, and yet they're failing to follow it.
Day ten comes around. Light streaming in through the window in the ceiling. I wait for hours, trying my hardest not to freak out. It's difficult, but I manage. I ate all six of those rotten apples. I was sick twice. The cell reeks. I breath out a sigh of relief when the door begins to slide open. But what I'm greeted with isn't quite what I expected.
I stare up at the bearded man, utterly confused. This isn't my normal guard. He isn't anyone's guard... But then I clock it. The hat. The pager. The torch. The taser? I drag my eyes off the weapon and up to the mans face once more. Night guard. But why is he letting me out? I notice two other guards, day time guards, behind him and I shrug it off. Maybe he's just helping out.
I offer out a hand to the raven haired fellow, and he hesitates before pulling me up. And then slapping handcuffs on my wrists. I smile at him sweetly. ''For me??!'' I gasp, and lift my bound hands to my chest, forming a heart with my fingers. I read his face for any changes. He's blushing. I snicker as the other guards grab me roughly by the shoulders and push me down the hall. Back to my cell. Back to what I may as well call home.