~...Screaming at the window, Watch me die another day
Hopeless situation, Endless price I have to pay...~

He never saw the bars upon the windows, just the blurred shades of grey distorting his view of the outside world. Beyond the window everything was clear to his tired eyes, the trees and large iron gates stood in sharp definition against the aging sky. But those bars that separated him from what lay beyond were never clear. Maybe, he was standing too close to them?

With his face pressed between the bars, smashed against the reinforced glass all he could do was scream. He'd lost track of the days he'd watched slip away from the too white room with its padded walls. Too long had he been in this self inflicted darkness against the harsh lights constantly baring down on him. His world had been slipping for so long that most days he couldn't even remember his name. Nor whatever he had done to be locked away and forgotten.

Forgotten by who...? Sometimes he could see their faces, their names unspoken words resting on the tip of his tongue. They had meant so much to him, whoever they were. He beat his unkempt hair against the wall as he tried to remember, to understand why they had left him in this place alone. He never had visitors, and even the doctor avoided any talk of them.

Before his medications wore thin he remembered them best, but even in those brief moments of clarity he was too angry to focus. He hated the medications, the things he knew when he took them, the all too real memories of the violence that had brought him here. When he was himself, he wanted vengeance. When the memory of their voices beat against his mind all he could feel was hurt and rage.

~...Diary of a madman, Walk the line again today
Entries of confusion, Dear diary, I'm here to stay...~

Day after day in his endless cycle he followed the rules of his imprisonment. Playing nice with the others, talking to his doctor once a week. He ate the bland meals with his plastic spoon and took the medications to keep the visions at bay. But when he was alone in his room, his eyes burning against how bright it was, he felt the madness seeping back in.

The grief coursed through him as he stared out that singular window, waiting for the moment when he could rejoin the world. The others laughed at him when he spoke of what he would do when he got out, but without that singular hope, he knew that he would fall into permanent darkness. He refused to accept that he was as far gone as the others believed.

So out the window he stared, like a gargoyle frozen in time. He bit his lips to try and restrain the screams building within himself as his mind tore itself apart, in constant mental battle with himself. Trying to remember who he was, who those phantom memories had been. What he'd done... He couldn't uncage those memories anymore then he could open that window.

~...Manic depression befriends me, Hear his voice
Sanity now is beyond me, There's no choice...~

The pills he took left his dreams empty, but they couldn't quiet the whispers of his slipping sanity. All through each night he listened to the words of those he'd forgotten. Words of love turned to cries of terror at some unseen act he'd committed against them. His only comfort came of his own creation, his distress giving life to what sanity he still retained. It promised him that he would remember, that he would break free of his imprisonment and right the wrongs done to him. The ones that had been caused by him...

~...A sickened mind and spirit, The mirror tells me lies
Could I mistake myself for someone, Who lives behind my eyes?

Will he escape my soul, Or will he live in me?
Is he trying to get out, Or trying to enter me?...~

The hardest part of every day was staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. Looking into those distant eyes, seeing his own face yet being unable to remember who he had been enraged him. He knew that reddish brown mess of hair and those deep brown eyes had a name. His mind would whisper names to him, all of them he knew were wrong. They were the names that belonged to the voices of those who'd abandoned him, condemned him to this living nightmare. Only his own name stayed hidden,, tucked away until the time was right.

Staring into those lost eyes, he swore he could see distorted events from his life before playing out like a cinema film. Running free through the grass, holding a woman he must have loved. He was sure that those memories were his, or maybe, maybe they were tricks of his mind. Years of medication and false hopes building a life that had never been. Even not knowing, he hoped that the man he saw within his reflection was himself. That before all of this, he had been happy, free.

Over the past few weeks he'd been able to hold on to some of those brief glimpses of his past, slowly putting himself back together. He couldn't explain how, after all of these years he was finally able to bring himself back. He was unsure as to whether the man he was becoming was the man he had been, or just a manifestation of the things he'd come to believe were true. He wasn't sure it mattered after all of these years. He wanted to be somebody, anybody.

After years of failure, he'd finally developed a way of tricking the orderlies into thinking he'd taken the countless medications. With careful concentration he held them in his throat, clearing the check and waiting until he was alone and unnoticed to force them out. His mind was returning to him, and with it the extent of the madness he was supposed to be fighting. He told himself that for now, he could handle the hallucinations and ghostly voices tearing away at his mind. He wanted to know what the world was trying to make him forget, no matter the cost.

~...Voices in the darkness, Scream away my mental health
Can I ask a question, To help me save me from myself?...~

Late into the night before his escape he saw what must have been his past in violent flashes. The phantoms he'd carried with him all these years, their names still lost, had been his family. The woman he'd sworn he knew was the wife he'd cherished. The children he'd sired and raised stared back at him, fear in their eyes as the flames rose. He could feel the blood on his shaking hands as he lit the match that had destroyed their home and torn them away from him.

He shook his head, trying to clear the past away as he searched for the voice of his sanity, hidden within their screams. Why did I do it? He begged himself, needing to know. If he couldn't find the answer, couldn't understand why he'd destroyed everything he had loved then he knew he would loose what was left of himself.

Shaking hands tangled themselves in his hair as he pulled at the roots, waiting for the reply only he could give himself. He had seen something, known something was in their home. It had possessed his son, was going to harm all of them. So he'd tried to burn the evil away, to save them from it. He fell to his knees, tears falling over his face. He didn't know if they had survived the fire, couldn't remember what had happened after those flames had risen and the screams had stopped.

Perhaps his only visitors were the ghosts of his memories for a reason, though he didn't want to acknowledge the thought. If he let it in, then it threatened to become the truth. He couldn't have done what his mind was telling him had happened, he would never hurt them... What had he seen in that house to make him do it? What if it was still out there? If they were alive, then it might still hurt them.

~...Enemies fill up the pages, Are they me?
Monday 'til Sunday in stages, Set me free...~

He spent the long hours of the night writing on bits of paper he'd hidden in the room, trying to work out what those pills had made him forget. The events of that night, what had led up to it. No matter how much he wrote, nothing made sense. The names of the ones he'd loved eluded him as his body ached for sleep. He pushed it off as long as he could, willing himself to remember. His hands moved on their own as he roughly sketched out hideous monsters, all of them hidden within his own eyes. Had they been real? Or just the illusions of a mentally unstable man?

Gathering the mess of papers, he hid them under his mattress before curling up on his bed. He let his eyes fall upon the bared window, seeing for the first time the sharp outlines of his imprisonment. He didn't know how he would do it, but he would break out of this place. He was going to find himself, and know what had happened. He had to, lest he be trapped within his unknowing insanity until it finally took control.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Disclaimer: I do not own Drake and Josh, nor am I profiting from the story written here. The lyrics in italics are from the song Diary of a Madman, by Ozzy Osbourne. I don't own those either.

A/N: This fic is being written at the request of Seekertheoriginal, hopefully I'll be able to due the request justice. I don't know how regular the updates will be, as I am currently working on another fic, and doing real life stuff, but I'm going to try and keep up with them. So here is the beginning, hopefully any reading have liked it so far. Reviews and critique are welcome as always, and looked forward to.