"Where's Pow-Pow? Fishbones? Let me go! NO!"
"We're here to help you, please understan-"
"I don't need your help! I'm fine the way I am! I'm gonna blow you all up! LET ME GO!"

I jerk awake. Sometimes, my mind decides to show me my first day in the psych ward I was in for five years.

Why, you ask?
Well, a few years ago, I'd lost my mind. Forgotten who I was, killed people I loved, talked to inanimate objects and people that didn't exist and blew up buildings and killed so, oh so many people – only to get my twin sister's attention. Who had forgotten I existed, because she suffered a psychotic breakdown when she saw me kill the people who had been family for us for years, and lost her memory afterwards.
She remembers me now. She checks on me every now and then. I think she is still trying to deal with the fact that I killed and hurt so many people.'
When they finally caught me, I was in the process of blowing myself up, without even realizing what I was doing.

Five years of intense therapy and five pills a day made me come to my senses.
I still see a therapist every week. And I'll probably never get off these pills. Three in the morning, two at night before bed.
Which means it's about time.

I get out of bed and open the curtains over the window that's across my bed.
It's a sunny spring morning, but the grey clouds in the distance suggest rain later today.
I'm starting college today.

Yeah, it sounds insane. But when they released me for the loony bin, my therapist suggested that I should socialize. And some education wouldn't hurt.

They gave me a new identity. Hannah Rosecorn is my new name.
Admittedly, I still like the nickname they gave me when I was murdering people all over the state. Jinx. The few people I still have close from this time (aka my therapist and my sister) still call me by that name.
I've been out for three months now and I still haven't gotten used to Hannah, I probably never will. It doesn't sound like me.

But then again, who am I? A nutcase that's on five pills a day, that was charged with 108 counts of murder, 165 counts of mayhem, 78 counts of assault and 41 counts of destruction of property but was found legally insane.
I don't really remember a lot about myself. I remember what my life was like, what happened to me, and why I snapped. But I haven't really found myself yet. Which makes me think that they probably shouldn't have released me this soon.
Heck, when I first got there, my psychiatrist told me I'd probably never get out.

But now I'm here. In my own apartment and about to start my first day at college.
I look over to my night stand, which has an alarm clock sitting on top of it.
It's time to get ready o'clock.

I open my closet door. The first outfit that catches my eye is the one I was wearing when they caught me.
Bad idea, Jinx. They gave you a new identity, time to give yourself a makeover.
Mind you, since I got out I left the house maybe two or three times to go grocery shopping in my sweatpants.
I grab a blue dress, but after gagging at the thought of me in a dress, I decide on a pair of black skinny jeans and a T-Shirt.

I make my way to the bathroom where I grab my Anti-Depressants, Anti-Psychotics and Anti-Anxiety medication.
I used to have major issues with swallowing pills, but over the years I've gotten used to it.
I take them all together, turn on the faucet to get a sip of water.
I turn the faucet off, put the pills back in the mirror cabinet and close it. Staring back at me is now a pale young woman with a face that would fit a 16-year-old, bloodshot eyes with dark shadows under them.
They cut my hair when I arrived at the hospital. I'm trying to grow it out again, but it's still only about shoulder length. And it's my natural hair colour – platinum blonde. I've thought about dyeing it blue again, but my therapist told me not to, it might make people recognize me. I also need to cover my tattoo – which means long sleeves, even in summer.

I get undressed, and while avoiding the sight of my naked body in the mirror, I hop under the shower.
Thanks to my time in the hospital, I've grown to resent showers. You were only allowed one shower per week and were constantly being watched by at least two people.
As a result, my showers now only take about three to five minutes.
Once I'm done, I jump out like I was showering in acid and throw on my clothes.

I blow dry my hair and decide on only the teeniest bit of make up, to cover the dark shadows under my eyes.
And now, I guess, I'm ready. I grab my bag, take a deep breath and open the door to my apartment.

Time to start a new life.