The storm had passed, leaving behind a thick fog that engulfed the Happy Volts Asylum on the edge of the Blue Skies Industrial park. Winston, a chunky white male wearing a white uniform, sat in the guard's post by the front gate occasionally glancing at the clock to see how long he had before his shift was over—too long, he thought. He decided to get up and stretch his legs, grabbing his flashlight and keys. Nothing too interesting in the yard at that time. Most of the residents that resided at the Asylum were usually in their cells, but a few still wandered around—talking to the trees and themselves, while one or two were passing around a cigarette behind a smaller shed-like building. Nothing Winston hadn't seen a million times over. He sighed and lit his own cigarette, enjoying what little excitement it brought him. About half way through his mini-break, the phone rang in his guard's post. Stepping on his cigarette quickly, he darted for the phone and answered it barely on the last ring. He quickly nodded his head and hung up. He tucked in his shirt and fixed his pants, not that it mattered, but he liked to keep up appearances. To open the gate, Winston had to insert his key and when the time was right—press the button; it wasn't much, but it was something to do.
A few minutes after he inserted his key, lights appeared down the road, lighting up the fog as the vehicle turned the corner. The vehicle approached and waited for Winston to come to the window. He stepped out of the small door next to the large gate and looked up at the thin black man with glasses staring back at him. "State your purpose" demanded Winston. "New patient" said the black man, pushing his glasses back on his nose. Winston nodded and went back inside, slamming his hand on the button. A loud noise echoed around the yard, breaking up the silence as the gate creaked open. One or two patients scattered from the noise. The white van finally pulled through the gate and pulled up to the entrance to the asylum where a nurse had been waiting for them. The black man and his partner got out of the van and headed towards the back, unlatching the doors; the white male stepped in to retrieve the occupant. "What do we have tonight?" questioned the nurse as she held up her clipboard, ready to write. "We already wrote up a report for ya, Marcy" smiled the black man, handing her the papers. "Oh good. Saves me the trouble" she chuckled, looking them over as the white man emerged from the van, carrying the new patient in his arms. "What the hell did you do to him?" she demanded, seeing that he was limp and unconscious. "We had to sedate him. He came to about halfway and we thought it'd only make our trip easier if he were quiet again." Nurse Marcy rolled her eyes. "I think you just like playing with needles Darren" joked the black man. "Eric has a point" agreed Marcy.
They headed inside, Eric opening and holding the doors. "It says here that he was on meds. Did he have any on him?" questioned Nurse Marcy. "Nope. Crabblesnitch says he got rid of them awhile ago. Probably sold them—you know how kids are these days. Always looking for a high." "Well, it says here that he is a deranged psychopath that went off his meds earlier this year and attempted to overthrow the authority at Bullworth and attacked a student which resulted in the two of them crashing through Crabblesnitch's glass roof. Good heavens! Do we really want that kind of person here? All of our residents are angels compared to this—child!" she said, looking at the boy in Darren's arms and stroking the scar across his right eye. "We'll just have to keep him medicated, that's all. Sneak it in his food or whatever if he won't take it willingly. Besides, we're the only place that will take him." Marcy sighed as they continued to walk down the halls. "He'll need to be psychoanalyzed before we medicate him though. We can't have the State coming in again—we just can't." added Marcy as they turned a corner and towards the right hand side of the hallway, passing door after door of moaning patients, begging to be released. The group stopped at a specific door. "Mark—open this one!" she yelled to a young man that was in the control room, reading a magazine. Mark hesitantly got up and ran his finger along a chart, pushing a small button that opened the door. He sat back down and continued what he was doing.
"Here we go then. Home sweet home" smiled Marcy sarcastically. Inside the room the walls were bare and peeling off, there were tiles missing from the floor, exposing the raw, rough cement underneath. There was a long, narrow, barred window in the center of the wall that was directly across from the door and a twin sized mattress laid bare and diagonally near the window—as if someone had just thrown it in there. Darren took the boy and tossed him on the bed. "Eric, did you bring the clothes?" asked the nurse as she handed her clipboard to Darren and began pulling off the patient's shirt. "Yep. There right here." The black man set them on the bed next to Marcy and then he and Darren headed out of the room to stand guard. Marcy undressed the boy from his Bullworth attire and replaced it with a white button up, long sleeve shirt and some white pants. There was also a blanket underneath the clothes that she unfolded and placed over him. Before she left, she wiped off a smudge of dirt on his cheek and sighed, shutting the door behind her—locking him in.