I've been sitting here for awhile, in a musty, old prison cell. I know I brought that onto myself, the day that I thought it would be fun to stab enough people to make a army. That's a different story, and I don't want to talk about, but I have gotten better since then. I didn't want to do it, but voices in my head had told me to, so I did. Since my arrest, I was diagnosed a schizophrenic and immediately put on medication. I feel a lot better now, I wish now that I hadn't done it.

I use to have an amazing career, others would call it a job but to me, it was a career. I loved what I did and no one could take that away from me, but myself. I use to chauffeur, kind of like a chauffeur for rent up in Aspen, Colorado, it paid well enough and I got to meet lots of people. Its also how I met a majority of my victims, shocker, huh? Anyways, I loved my job and my life, if I had only gotten help, then I would still be living that life. Now I have a strict schedule to follow. I never liked taking orders anyways, I feel like a child, being told what to do by their parents. Ironic, isn't it?

As I lay here thinking to myself about all that has transpired in the past five years, I hear a guard shout that it was time for dinner. I drag myself up and walk to the door, waiting for a guard to come to the door and take me to the isolation room. The isolation room is a special place they decided to put me whenever it is meal time or if I need exercise. I'm not allowed around the other in fear that I will do something to harm someone. I've tried telling everyone that I was sick at the time, I would never do it again, but as the saying goes, "Actions speak louder than words." And my actions screamed.

I look around as I am walked to the room, with my hands cuffed behind my back and my legs shackled together, staring around at the same theme that I've seen for the past one-thousand, nine-hundred and fourteen days of misery, yes, I've been fucking counting. It only takes the guard a few minutes to walk me there, once inside the room, I am cuffed to the table with long cuffs so I can eat my food. The guard walks to the door and stands in front of it, I know from experience that another is standing behind it.

I stare at my food for a few seconds. not bothering to eat. I haven't wanted to in a while. I look up at the guard and stare at him, once my food isn't enough to sedate my boredom.

"When are you out of my life again?" I decide to ask, knowing that their yearly guard rotation is coming up.

I laugh a little to myself when I don't get an answer, "Oh, I get it. You're too good for me to answer a simple question. God forbid a prisoner says a fucking word." I scoff and roll my eyes.

The guard just sighs and stays quiet. Great, now I only have a few minutes before I have to go back to my room. I decide it is probably for the best to take a few bites, this is suppose to be my dinner time after all and I know that if I don't eat now then I will be starving later. I only manage to choke down a few bites before the guard decides it's time to go back, asshole.

Instead of making it difficult on myself, I decide to just follow along as he switches out my cuffs, for the short uncomfortable ones. I know the bastard shortened my lunch time, he does it every time I open my mouth. as we walk back I grumble in frustration and wiggle around a little just to make holding me, as we walk, a pain in the ass.

"Not so fun, huh asshole?" I instantly regret talking as soon as I open my mouth. I have never had cuffs that tight around my wrist before, grinting my teeth as I inhale sharply, trying hard to forget about the throbbing pain that my wrist is making.

I don't think I have ever been more happy in my life to see my cell, only to get this, asshole of a guard, to stop manhandling me. He puts me in my cell and I put my hands in the slot where he takes my cuffs off and sigh in relief as the painful grip of the cuffs are loosened.

I walk away from my door without even looking back to see if the guard is watching or not and lay down. I sigh softly as I look at the exact same ceiling that I look at every fucking night. In recent years I have been feeling lonely, as cliche as that may sound. I never had much of a love life when I wasn't in prison. See, I went to prison when I was twenty. I'm twenty-five going on twenty-six and the only interacting I get with anyone is the guards, occasionally other prisoners, but I have a guard by my side at all times.

Anyways, I never had a love life in school either. No one ever was appealing in my eyes, well I take that back. Maybe one or two were but I was so confused with my sexuality to even know where to start. Not like I could explore it with random people, when you grow up in a small mountain town, everyone knows everyone and everything. So I basically been alone, no boyfriends or girlfriends and now I will never know for a long time what having one feels like.

Maybe I might have a chance when they decide to release me to a mental institution, but I don't know when that will be and it may be too late by then. I'll probably be a old man, or hell, I maybe even dead for all I care. I just want something now, or I wish I could, just to make me feel like I have something, someone who care. My family gave up on me awhile ago and I've been alone since.

A/N: I decided to leave the main character up to the imagination for this chapter. I don't know yet what pairing or to use, or who the main character is for that matter. I would like you guy to let me know what you want to read. I will write homosexual pairing or straight, fully up to consumer demand and last I need to know who you guys want as the main character.

Let me know! And thanks for reading! There will be a new chapter up every Sunday!