You know the way in high school there was always that one guy with the bucked teeth, spots all over, spelt like manure and always had a bad lisp; he had no friends and played World of Warcraft? If so, now we be a good time for me to tell you that I was not that one guy. Nope, I was the one Bi-Sexual kid who got shunned upon by his Christian 'friends'. I got it hard being the apparent Anti-Christ but I wasn't one, I didn't t have faith in God and I was Bi-Sexual yes, but they made me out to be some form of Satanist but I never lowered myself to the standard of returning insults to them, I lifted my head and walked on. By the end of first year I had been sectioned at least twice, and I had earned a reputation as an emotionally unstable. My attire quickly changed from bright coloured hoodies, white T-shirts, blue jeans and sneakers into a morbid black overcoat, a black T-shirt that read Metallica across the front of it, dark grey trousers and black converse. I was all too stereotypical for an alternative, but I'm autistic; when I want to do something I'd do it and I would make sure I did it correctly, and I wanted to look different, so I did. I spent the next two years being terrorized for my looks and I don t mean I was ugly, I was far from it and I don t mean to brag but girls really liked me however I was different and so they'd never allow themselves to be seen with me, but because of my attire I always got the wrong end of the stick. I had had enough of it though, by early fourth year my life began to crumble in on itself; my father's drinking problems had gotten out of control, my mum had been arrested for being in possession of drugs and my older brother had left for college, meaning I had no one left to talk to.

A few weeks had passed since mum's trial and dad had been gone for 4 days straight without telling me where he was going or how long he would be. I couldn't t stand the isolation; I had no one to talk to, no one to care for and no one to love. "Well faggot, ha-ha, you going home to bum your bum-chum?" The regular mockery ensued from my class mates as I made my way out of the front entrance of the school, but instead of turning left and uphill towards my estate, I went right and began to slowly make my way down to the bottom of the hill, and into the valley below my school.
There were rumours of an old mental asylum down there, hidden by the fog and the overgrowth from the nearby forest lands. Little did my class mates know that in my bag was a length of rope, I wasn't going down to the asylum to explore, I knew what I was doing and I knew there was no going back now. As I got lower down the hill the fog thickened and soon brambles began to catch my ankles and tear at my shins, I persevered through the pain, after all what was this compared to the task that lay ahead? A few minutes passed and I reached a red brick wall engulfed by vines, however in the centre of the wall was placed a single red rose, it's thorns sharper than any I had saw before and it's colours more vivid that the northern lights. The positioning of the rose was interesting, how did it manage to grow there? I asked myself over and over again as I slowly searched for the entrance to the facility.

Soon I had found a black iron gate; it towered over me and was wider than the road. On it was a metal plaque that read, "Saint Georgia's Hospital for the mentally deranged" under the plaque was a homemade wooden sign that was carved with what I assumed was a knife and it read, "Stay out! They don t want you in there; they want you dead, all of them, the voices!" the handwriting had gotten more of a mess by the end and it was almost as if the person who wrote it had been in a hurry, but I guessed it was a mere prankster. I slowly pushed the door open, but rather than hearing a large creak I heard an electronic voice emit from a nearby box, "Wel-o-e-o-sai-orgi-lum-or-tal-ran-d". The box was badly damaged and wires had been pulled out at all angles, but to my surprise there didn't seem to be an electrical flow going to it. I assumed it was battery operated and thus the poor quality sound it made, but I had a lot more to worry about than a damaged speaker. I entered the courtyard and in the centre was a large water fountain, but it was cracked and smashed as if it had corroded over time. As I approached the water fountain I heard the trickle of water running, I looked into the fountain to see that the water was still turned on, "is this place still connected to the electrical mains?" I asked myself out loud as I approached the main entrance or as the worn sign has said "Hell-trance" I had assumed it once said, "Hello, entrance" But again I cared little of the matter, it was only a sign. As I reached for the still well polished brass door knob I heard a gargle and turned my head to see a thick, dark liquid passing out of the water fountain s hose. I watched on for a few seconds and then began to gag as I noticed an eyeball in the liquid. "What the fuck happened in this place that they closed it?" I asked myself as I grabbed the door knob and twisted.

The door opened with a long and croaky creaking sound, "How cliché" I groaned out loud as I walked into the main foyer. I walked up to the reception desk, almost as if I was expecting to see a demonic receptionist waiting for me. I released a small chuckle at the idea and wiped some dust off of the counter, only to end up coughing and releasing more dust into the area around me. I looked down at the counter and on it saw that the wood was still in good shape, except for a few marks on it from items such as keys, rings and watches; it seemed as if this place wasn't t very old, not old enough to be overgrown and deserted anyway.

"Hello?" I called out slowly, I don t know why. But it seemed like the right thing to do, perhaps this place was inhabited and I was trespassing on private property. I turned to the door to leave, but as I turned the light over the door flickered on for no more than a second but that was still long enough for me to see it standing watching me, a tall black figure with deep, glaring green eyes. I took it as a figure of my imagination and moved towards the door anyway, determined to make my leave. As I got closer to the place where I had seen the figure I began to hear heavy breathing. It was pitch black so who ever, or whatever was standing there. Couldn't t possibly see me, could they? I slowly began to step backwards and then a voice rang out, it echoed through the room and I couldn't decide where it had come from, it said, "Are you lost, Michael Stalling, I can help you, if you want me to, Michael?"

I stopped moving, my heart skipped a beat and I stopped breathing for a short amount of time. "How do you know my name and who the hell are you?" I called out into the darkness, in return I was given a long blood curdling laugh and it was loud enough to cause a glass pane behind the reception counter to crack from the centre outward.

"Who am I you ask? I am the owner of this grand asylum, of course. The true question is who are you? And why have you come here bearing nothing more than your damnable soul, a length of rope and your blood bag of a body." Before I had the chance to answer the question a gust of wind blew down the hallway and a line of wall lamps lit up the corridor to my right and the voice called out again, "Follow Michael. I know why you have come to this place, you wish to relieve yourself of the curse of life, you wish to swap over to the afterlife and forget about your mortal turmoil, am I not correct?" The voice was right, and I couldn't speak in reply so I merely nodded my head, I don t know why as I hadn't expected this thing to be able to see me. But it let out a soft sigh and said, "Then so be it, follow little one."

I slowly walked down the hallway following the lights and headed towards a door at the end of the corridor that said, Patient Disciplinary Ward. As I walked I heard constant shattering behind me and I turned my head to see what it was. I noticed that as the shadowy figure followed me the shadows followed in his wake and they shattered the bulbs that were on the walls surrounding him. It was a frightful sight, but this thing seemed very calm, and perhaps friendly. "What is your name?" I asked; I had assumed it was Saint Georgia, but the voice sounded like that of a man. "I am the Senior Psychiatrist of this facility, Doctor Chris Wesker. This facility was built by me for my patients to relax and to overcome their problems, but like most mental institutes it was christened with the name of a saint." A sudden flair of cold filled the corridor and I assumed that this was due to the Doctor being angry, or perhaps saddened.

Eventually I reached the door at the end of the corridor and felt a liquid at my feet; I looked down to see that the tiled floor beneath me was pooled with blood and water from a tap, which I could hear running from the room in front of me. "What on earth happened in this room?" I asked as I slowly opened the door wide, trying not to puke at the sight that lay out before me. "This room was not in my original design for the building; I built this place as a resort and not as a prison. But when they christened the building they remade it, the original building was torn down and this red bricked fortress was built upon its grounds. The new design focused more on discipline, religion and confinement. My staff wasn't t replaced, but they didn't like the new building in fact most of them quit on me, the ones that didn't soon lost their minds from having to torture their patients and the ones that went completely insane were assigned to this asylum. The ones that didn't lose their head straight away soon did, after about 3 months the last remaining crew I had lost their minds and were admitted to the asylum. And it's new regime."

The voice fell silent for a moment and I took the time to gather up what information I could from the room in front of me. In the corners of the room bodies dressed in medical gear hung from the roof, some from belts others from rope and wiring. Two tables were on the edges of the room and on them each lay a decaying body wearing the over gown of a patient. And in the centre of the room sat upon an electric chair, sat a young man with Black hair, rough stubble, and what looked like green eyes. "I too, soon lost my mind after seeing my colleagues tortured by the new doctors they had recruited to replace my own staff." The doctor said.

"These new doctors were soldiers; they had seen death and had gotten comfortable with the concept; killing off and harming anyone they didn't like. 8 months after the asylums christening, the population of this place had halved more than twice due to their methods." The man sitting in the chair slowly fell over onto his side and I saw his name tag, it read "Dr. Chris Wesker" I let out a small gasp and the Doctor clearly heard my reaction, "Before you ask, Michael, I did not kill myself in this chair. I was murdered by the new staff; they had killed me as I shunned them for their ruthless techniques and for turning my institute into a slaughter house." At this point I was terrified, if these soldiers were still about they may capture and kill me for trespassing, and speaking to the cost of a man they slaughtered. I guess the doctor had read my mind again. "Don't worry, they're all dead and passed. I remain here to walk the mortal realm as I have one last dying wish before I can pass." He said, I turned around behind me to face the doctor, he was still a black shadow and his eyes still shone green, but he had taken on the shape of a man and was only a few centimetres taller than me. "I want my institute brought back to its former honour, state, and glory." The doctor looked me in the eye and I noticed a small smile grow across his face. "And you can help me, Michael." He chimed.