Sister's Great Escape

I padded along the floor with great agility, slipping past doorways. I could see flashes of light as the storm raged. Power had gone out long ago. I could hear my fellow Crazies as I speeded down the hallways. I listened to the fracturing of bones, the trickling of blood, and oh, the screams. How they screamed as the more Crazies took down other crazies, their primal instincts to kill unleashed like the doors to cells had been as the power went out.

My favorite was the "boot-through-water" sound, as someone slammed an already crushed skull into a pool of brains and blood, almost like jumping in a puddle. I smiled and laughed manically as I heard the boots through water.

I sighed as Lauren stepped out. She was a lesser crazy. Dang, I already killed Sean, Kate, Chrissie, Jon, Tristan, Penelope, Ron, Francesca, and Gabby. I really didn't want to get even lower in my levels. I sighed as I bashed Laurens head against the floor, relishing as her screams subsided into nothingness. I laughed again as I banged her head through the puddle of blood.

In this asylum, I classified the crazies in here. There are the lesser crazies, like Lauren, who are more sane than the rest of us. So, on a scale of 1 to 10, she's a 10. Then there are middle crazies, ranging from 11-23, like Tristan and Chrissie. Then there's the Crazies. With a capital C. They range from 24-47. I killed Sean, Kate, Jon, Penelope, Ron, Francesca and Gabby in this category. I killed mostly Crazies because they do the most of the killing. Then there's me. On my best day, I'm a 67. On my worst, I'm a 88. On a scale of 1-10. I've escaped from eight mental asylums, this being my ninth. I'm at level 57 in h***, because I've killed 57 people.

Call me Sister.

I laughed and laughed as I ran through the rivers of blood. I relished as I heard my favorite sound. I enjoyed the show of asylum life. I jumped over dead bodies, occasionally stopping to bash some heads, already dead or not. I absolutely love my fellow crazies, as their favorite way of killing is bashing heads. I'm really enjoying my marathon of skull smashing.

I laughed, and laughed, and laughed as I leaped and twirled, dancing to my music. I conducted the choir of blood splats, ordered around the skull crashes, soaking up the blood. My billowing white gown, now red, circled around me as I danced. So free. My feet rejoiced as they slipped and slid in the sticky, sweet liquid. I spun in circles as I ran full force down the longest hallway and let go, sliding all the way down, laughing and twirling, singing and dancing.

I stopped at the end of the hallway and kept going. I ran and dodged my fellows, listening to my sweet, sweet music. I joyously laughed as I neared the exit. I paused to listen to my music, enjoying the last notes of it, before I ran out the door.

It's a long way home.

A/N: Sister: And that, my little toe funguses, is how I escaped my most recent asylum. Which Fang put me in. So... I killed him, but apparently sissy healed him to life.

Fang: You scare me.

B: You are one messed up child. I'm not letting M (our littlest brother) near you anymore.

Sister: Whatevs. S'long as I get to type about my escapes, I'm good. Maybe Fang will leave after I tell him about my seventh asylum escape. Now that's a story worth listening to!

Fang: Ummm... No thanks.

Sister: You WILL listen.

B: Stop being mean to Fang! One day, you'll wake up and he'll have hung himself in your closet with a Nerds Rope- the delicious way to commit suici- STOP BITING MY ARM, SISTER!

SISTER: I CAN'THELP IT! I forgot to bite someone in my recent escape! Gotta bite something! LOL, you typed "stop being mean to Fag!" at first. Hypocrite. Even you see the truth. He also doesn't deserve to be killed deliciously. He deserves a torcherous death, slowly killed, dripping blood, ahhhh. Beautiful.

Fang: O.o *whispers* Help... me...

Sister: Tried that. No one helps you. They only make the voices worse.

B: Okay, we all know you're bat-s**t crazy, Sister. Now can we go to bed?

Sister: Time also makes voices worse. They slowly get stronger and take over for short periods. I know from experience. Well, I have to go. Some nice people looking like Jesus in white coats say they want to talk to me. Guess I gotta sharpen my knife. I freakin hate those stupid straight jackets. They really cut off circulation. REVIEW OR DIE! This also may turn into an eight-shot, one for each asylum escape. This is so fun. Sharing these beautiful stories with my lovely little toe funguses.