I wonder what it's like outside this building. The only thing I ever see is the trees and the ravine. I can't see much to the side, only a bit of a parking lot to the left and another part of the grey-bricked building with more windows to the right. However, it's not as lonely as one would think, being in a mental hospital.

I have people to talk to. Every day at lunch I go to the cafeteria and talk to my friends. I have three friends, myself being the youngest, and I've known them for about two months now.

There's Nate, the dramatist who longs for the chance to be on Broadway. He was put here because of his stress that was so much it made him snap. It was in the middle of a drama class he was teaching too, he lashed out at a few "incompetent amateur actors" and put two of the students in the hospital. I bet he would be on Broadway if he hadn't buckled under the pressure of his life, which I still don't know what was stressful about it.

Joshua, the schemer who built a bomb in his basement, was so psychotic and dangerous that he was a threat to the other inmates of the prison he was put in. A few years after his meds and therapy finally took effect he calmed down. He doesn't have to wear a straight jacket anymore, or a muzzle thing, but the nurses and doctors still keep him under surveillance just in case.

Desmond murdered his wife when he came home and found her sleeping with another man. Obviously he killed the man too. He was so grief stricken that when the cops showed up they found him in the bathroom with his forearms sliced open with glass from the mirror still in the wound. Psychiatrists declared him to be mentally unstable and sent him here. He's not all that tough, though he is big; I like to think of him as a teddy bear. He let me see the scars on his arm and, one time, he let me touch them too.

I got put in here because I kept having delusions and made a big scene in the classroom when the delusions got really bad. My terrors usually always happen indoors. The room will get really dark and quiet, almost no noise within the whole room, and anyone in the room turns into motionless mannequins. If any of them do move, it's very blurry and creepy. The whole body will jerk and jive when they're moving towards me. They have no face, which makes it worse in my opinion, and they're always reaching out for me, trying to grab me and pull me away. They never get me though, I'm too fast for them, and I run out of the dark room and into another dark room with more mannequins. Just before they all surround me and topple over me, I snap out of it and the light and people come back to me. It scares everyone more than it scares me.

After the fifth time it happened at school, after going to see the counselor a few times, the principal asked my parents to get some help for me. Those people who examined me gave me some drugs to suppress the delusions. Those drugs did the trick but I was pretty much out of my senses when I was drugged up. The kids in the class would laugh at me because I would zone out and start drooling. I hated those pills but it was the only thing keeping me away from that place.

One time I missed a day because I ran out of pills and my parents forgot to get more. That day the delusions were so bad and so vivid it felt like I literally teleported to a different world.

I was in my bedroom when I tripped out. The whole room went pitch black; I couldn't see my bed or my window at all. It's like the whole room disappeared. Then the room came back, same shape of my bedroom, but the furniture and the walls were completely unnatural and scary. My bed was nothing but a rusty metal frame and a bloody mattress. My desk was rotting, covered in moss and other funky stuff, and had a big split in the middle. The walls were scratched and clawed down to the bare drywall. My walls were baby blue but now were white and smeared in muddy hand prints and bloody claw marks. My carpeted floor was still there but it was soaked and smelled like pee. The ceiling was the same condition as the walls but the ceiling had footprints on it too. The light bulb was lit, shining through a thin layer of dirt and grime, and cast a brownish light on the whole room.

Just before I could call out for anyone, the bedroom door opened wide. A mannequin drenched in blood from the top of its head down to its waist, and still trickling down, stood there. No movement. It had a brown paper bag in its grip, the bottom of the bag was wet and dripping. It wasn't blood; it looked like it was dropped in a shallow puddle on the road. Then the mannequin took a step forward, a blurred and quick movement, and then took another step, unfocused and fast. I backed away until I was up against the wall but it still approached me. With its free hand, it reached out towards me. I whimpered and slid to the floor. I tucked my legs in and covered my face, bracing for the worst. They had never gotten me before and now it was going to pull me away into some horrible place. I felt its grip on my shoulder...

"Andrew! Andrew, sweetie, it's me your mom! Andrew, look at me!" I slowly took my hands away from my face. There was my mom, kneeling down in front of me, with her usual look of worry on her face. My real room came back, furniture and everything, and sunlight shined through the blinds of my window. "Honey, I got your meds." She held the white Rx paper bag up to my face. "I'm sorry I didn't get them on time, I'll never forget again."

Unfortunately, two months later, she did forget. This time the bloody mannequin came at me with a knife when I was in the kitchen. I found a knife and retaliated. A moment after I slashed at the mannequin, I saw my mother on the ground with a large cut in her arm. Blood streamed out, she was wailing, and my dad was calling the hospital. It was then that they put me in the care of professional psychiatrists who admitted me to a mental ward.

My parents visit me every Friday, every week, and they're more than happy to see me. My mom forgave me for hurting her and she blames herself for forgetting my meds again. My one friend from school, Jimmy, brings me my school work because we have the same classes. He tells me all about the new games and consoles that are released and the new TV shows and the word around school about so-and-sos and what's-his-names. I miss school and I miss life as a pre-teen. I'm only 15 years old and I'm in an asylum! Jeez!

I don't know why, call it a hunch, but today in the cafeteria when I was talking to the guys I got the feeling that something was going to happen today. Well, more like someone happened.