Prologue:

Sometimes I can remember it as if I were there. The dark, the smell, the screams, the laughter. A hundred maniacs ruining my mother in a thousand ways. I have nightmares about it. The most realistic dreadful dreams. But no matter how real it feels when I sleep, the story really comes to life through the words of my mother, Amanda.

Westin Hills Mental Clinic, Christmas Eve, 1986

I remember drawing the short straw and having to lock up over the Christmas break for the 3rd time in a row. It was Justine's turn but, well, let's just say BJ's get you everywhere. I was given a walkie talkie, an air rifle and a bottle of gin.

Just after lunch, Joe from security called my walkie talkie, saying that there was an incident in "the pit". One of the patients had fashioned a shiv and during an altercation, sliced his jugular. "Peeled like a grape" was how Joe put it. Of course, I had to go and read him his last rites, so he could pass over and be judged by the Lord.

Usually they are taken to the infirmary in their last hours, and in extreme cases to the yard in an isolated area where the funerals are also sometimes held. So you can imagine my confusion when I was summoned to the pit to do the last rites.

I was hesitant, and rightly so. There were no fewer than 8 dozen mentally ill people all in the one cell.

Now when I asked why they were all kept in the same cell, I was always told the same thing.

It was a different time Freddy. There were no guidelines, no inspections from the state, no new-age treatments. The only treatment present was "shove 'em in a hole and let them entertain themselves". And that's what they did. With the most violent, vile, evil freaks in the whole place.

I got to the locked door of the pit and peered inside. There was an enclosed steel walkway 30 feet above the floor. Looking directly down I could see nothing, but that was normal. The pit was so poorly lit, I don't think I could see an inch in front of my nose unless I was an inhabitant, or unless there was movement. And there was no movement. It was eerily still down there, considering someone had just offed themselves.

I called Joe on my walkie. "Yeah, Red. It's weird in here. I'm on the far side of the walkway, looking for the body." He waved a hand, and it brought my gaze back up to the walkway. The walkie talkie crackled again.

"OK, I'm gonna head down. Have you got the air rifle?"

I nodded, wide eyed, getting more and more nervous by the second.

"Come in and cover me. I'll give you my flashlight."

My legs filled with lead at the very thought of entering that hell chamber.

"Fuck you Justine", I whispered under my breath. I would've given 10 BJ's to avoid doing this.

"Huh", Joe's voice crackled over again.

"Oh, nothing, I, um, isn't there anyone else Joe? Emergency security or a warden?" I pleaded.

"Sorry, babe. It's just us and these nutjobs today."

I turned on the spot. I could've left. I could've run. But then, my precious baby, I couldn't have had you.

At this, I usually smile. But it's more of an anticipatory smile. 'Cause I know what's coming.

"Amanda! Are you coming in or not?!" Joe pushed.

"Fine!" I yelled. "Sorry, fine, I'm coming now."

I opened the heavy steel door and slowly placed a foot on the walkway. It shook slightly as I pivoted and closed the door. I took a deep breath, picked up the rifle and turned back to Joe.

"Boo!" The prick. He'd sneaked up behind me and scared the living shit out of me.

I swung the light rifle and connected with his temple.

"Bitch! What'd you do that for?" He said, smiling playfully and offering me the flashlight.

"You're a real jerk-off sometimes Joe." I couldn't help but smile back. He was very cute. As I gripped the shaft of the flashlight I felt his hand cover mine. I looked up at him and saw a very different Joe. A colder Joe.

"I'm sorry Red, it's, uh. It's you or me" He babbled. Puzzled, I turned back towards the door to face Junior. Junior was a big boy. Black as coal. Wide as a fridge. 3 teeth framed by thick purple lips. He showed me those teeth. I backed towards Joe. That was a mistake. Joe swung his hands over my head and pulled me close, his flashlight against my throat. Junior closed in, panting, his breath the heaviest stench I've ever known. I tried to kick out of Joe's hold, delivering one foot to Junior's stomach. He staggered and then continued towards me. I reached my hands behind my head and tried grabbing at Joe's hair. He yelled and pushed me to the floor. I was helped up by Junior who looked me up and down, licking his lips.

"How do you like it, bitch?" Joe sneered as he grabbed my ponytail.

Junior grabbed my feet and lifted me from the floor. Joe held me from the other side by my hair. They swung me back and forth. I tried grabbing at them, but only managed to scratch Joe's face. With one final swing I cleared the side rails and fell to the pit beneath. My floor was cushioned by hands. Lots of greasy hot hands.

Joe looked over the side. He had a swig of the gin I was given and spat it at me.

"Merry Christmas boys." He said, the last thing I remember of that day.

A/N: There it is. A very sweet origin story. I will try to keep this at a T level. With that in mind I'll have to skim over the nitty gritties and not go into what would be a hellish orgy rape scene. Please keep that in mind if/when you review