Tadaaa~ A new story for you all! c: For most of you that know me personally, will know that I love crazy people, scary movies involving hospitals/asylums and anything else along those lines, so this will be a joy to write, PLUS it's got my otp, ~davezi~ A few things I should mention, this is human stuck and Terezi is not blind at the beginning. I tried to make all the disorders fit the person in someway, and the characters will be introduced slowly. But enough of me talking, go read it. Now. Like seriously. Why are you still reading this? I said stop!

==Dave: Introduce yourself

Cool kids are just that; cool. Cool kids go to cool places and do cool things. They look cool and are completely ironic. Cool kids don't show their emotions easily and they don t have problems, or at least none that they make others aware of anyway. I am one of these kids, well I was. I guess I still am pretty cool, compared to the people I live with now.

My name is Dave Strider, I'm a patient at the Skaia Institution for the mentally unstable. However, most of us so called 'unstable patients' just call it the shithole, or Doc. Scratch's sex chamber. In case you're a little confused by that last name; Doc. Scratch is the biggest paedophile on this side of the fucking planet.

I was admitted to said shithole about three months ago. That was when I was diagnosed Dissociative Identity Disorder, or DID. Luckily, I only have one other personality. I call him Trickster Dave.

How do I even begin to explain the extremely fucked up, alternate personality that is Trickster Dave? Well for starters, he's kinda the opposite of me. It's not hard to tell when I m actually Trickster Dave instead of regular Dave.

TD always smiles and laughs. He's violent too which is never a good thing, especially in school. That was when he first came out. God I can remember that day almost too well. Uh.. well the parts before and after.

One of the kids in the older grades tried to pick a fight. I ran for awhile and then he cornered me. That guy, he was one of those huge bulking guys, that when an 8 year old simply looks at him they wanna cry. But cool kids don't cry.

After that it was a blank, like a black out, until I was sitting outside of the nurses office. Blood nose, bruised cheek. But I got the better end of the stick. The guy was much, much worse. I had apparently bit him, then proceeded to punch him. They had to pull me off.

Of course no one believed me when I said I blacked out, cause everyone saw. Everyone watched. That was the day that Trickster Dave started making my life hell. Insane bastard.

He's the reason I'm stuck in this asylum. If he wasn't around or maybe, if Bro, my caretaker, hadn't gotten suspicious and taken me to a psychologist, I'd still be back in Texas. Everything happens for a reason; whoever said that must have had a sick sense of humour.

But don't get me wrong, the institustion isn't all bad. I mean, not as bad as when I first arrived at the gates of hell. It just takes a lot of getting used to, like, two months of getting used to. The rude awakenings, the therapies where you sit and stare your doctor down; and of course the other insane people you're forced to spend each and every day with.

Speaking of insane people, there was a loud knock on the door that could be heard from the back of my mind. It grew louder and louder as I was rudely snapped out of my thoughts. The knocks were followed by a pause which was in turn followed by the incredibly dorky voice of one schizophrenic, John Egbert.

"Dave, Dave! Are you in there?" He squeaked and knocked on the door again. I spun in my swivel chair to face the door, hands brought up to my face and elbows propped up on the arm rests. "Dave come on, open the door or the imps will get you!"

With a half sigh, half groan, I hauled myself out of the chair and lazily wandered over to the door and opened it. I was met with a buck teeth filled grin and bright blue eyes slightly dimmed by the curved square glasses resting on the end of John s nose.

I could see my own reflection in his glasses, although slightly warped. Blonde hair, large black shades and a stoic expression; a poker face if you will. "What is it Egbert?" I questioned, running a hand through my fringe idly.

"You gotta come to the foyer!" John cried once more, tugging on my wrist insistently. Shit he was annoying sometimes. Annoying or not though, he was the first friend I had here. He was a cool kid. Not literally.

I allowed him to pull me out, whilst I grabbed the handle of my door and pulled it shut. "And why am I going with you, Egbert, to the foyer where Doc. Scratch likes to lurk and perve on my sister?" The tugging continued so I followed. Not like I was doing anything. But after a therapy session I liked to whine. "That's not a sight I like."

With a laugh and a shake of his head he turned back to me and grinned, flashing his pearly whites once more. "The crocodiles will keep that omniscient arse at bay! I promise!"

To open my mouth and protest about the realness of the crocodiles would be pointless. As a schizophrenic, John was highly convinced that the crocodiles and imps and whatever else he saw were real.

"Come on Dave! Hurry up" another tug, he was trying to rush me the little shit. "We'll be late! The new patient will be here soon, and I wanna be one of the first to meet her!"

A she, he said? That was always good. Fresh meat, a new flighty broad to ogle. Sure it sounded perverted, but what the hell. I was legally insane after all. Perhaps this would be fun. Hopefully she'd be better than the other girls here.

==Be the new patient

"Long car ride is long" I murmured to the car driver. He smirked at me in the rear view mirror before directing his eyes back to the road. What. An. Arse. This guy hadn't said a word to me the whole car ride; that's a three, going on four hour ride in case you were wondering.

All the fuckass had done was smirk, grin and send sympathetic glances back my way. But did he ever respond to any questions I asked? Nope. Not at all. It was rude to say the least. Not that I can talk.

The name's Terezi Pyrope. I'm an orphan who, up until now, was living with my foster family. But, they found that there was something wrong with me recently. I mean, they always knew I was different, odd. But they didn't know the extent of it.

Till now that is. They decided it was time for me to talk to my school's counsellor, who then diverted me to a psychiatrist, who deemed me as mentally unstable for regular school with regular people. I was diagnosed with Antisocial personality disorder; which I think is just a fancy way to say a sociopath.

So like they do with all insane people, they shipped me off to an asylum. An asylum in the middle of the country. It sounds like something straight out of a horror. And the sad part is, that my Foster parents were probably really happy to get rid of me. Just like my real mum and dad. Just like the rest of my foster families.

It was a shame. I really liked these ones too. They actually seemed to care.

Glancing out the window at the wide fields and grazing cows, my mind ran wild with thoughts of what it would be like at my new home. People in straight jackets and nurses walking around with syringes filled with various drugs to knock you out. Bluh.

It wasn't long until the car was rolling to a stop and the driver stepped out, opening the door for me and smiling. It was a hollow smile. He didn't want to be here and he knew I didn't either.

"End of the line, Miss Pyrope."

"Thanks..." I murmured and stepped out of the black car. My eyes were immediately drawn to the large building. It was depressing already. Two large front doors that looked way too heavy for me to push open and small windows with the curtains drawn, save for a few where people were peering out at me.

The most notable was a very pale girl, long black flowing hair. She looked like a ghost straight out of a Japanese horror. Fuck. A few moments of silent walking and keeping my head ducked down later, I made my way to the front doors. My bags where being carried by the driver thankfully; they were way too heavy for me.

Reaching out a shaky hand, I gripped the door handle. Hesitation. I didn t want to open that door. I wanted to turn and run back into the car. I didn't want to be insane. Or, at least I didn't want to confront what was making me insane. Even the orphanage would be better than this. But I needed to man up. This was my future. This is where I was meant to go. After all, everything happens for a reason right?

I knew that I was only having one of my moods. Manic episodes, the psychiatrist had called them. They lasted about a week or so, then I'd be back to my overly chirpy self, with the crazy cackle and I'd be violent as always; completely going against the norm as sociopath does.

Pushing down on the handle, I found the door to be rather easy to open. Not as heavy as I thought. It slid open and opened up a large tiled foyer, no furniture save for a desk along the back wall and a love seat by the other wall. At the top of the large staircase stood two boys, one grinning and buck toothed, the other was void of emotion.

"Uh... hi."

AN: And there we have it, folks! Chapter one done and dusted! Please feel free to leave reviews, they're most welcome!