I hadn't even been there more than a day, and I was already losing my mind.

I sat there in the cold, damp cell, with nothing but a filthy mattress and a plate of untouched slop sitting right at the base of the heavy metal door. I shivered, chills spreading through my body, even under the heavy straitjacket. The walls looked as though they had been clawed at; desperately, angrily, madly, with faded red stains accompanying the ridges left in the old concrete. The room closed in, slowly, threateningly, and it tortured me. The only sound to be heard was the eerie hum of the electric lights hanging in the hall, and I wanted so desperately to get out. I knew I didn't belong here. My family may not know it, Sister Jude may not know it, but I did. I didn't commit the horrible crimes that they say I did. In fact, I had to live through them.

But I didn't want to think about that right now. It was bad enough I got locked up and thrown away like an old beat-up stuffed animal.

I began to tap my head lightly against the concrete wall. I needed some sort of movement, some comfort, such as a baby being rocked to sleep. But then I thought back to the Common Room, and that poor redhead slamming her head against the bricks. What if this was how she started? Just tapping along, looking for some calming effect. She was probably a completely normal person, just like me. Innocent, misunderstood, even hurt. They locked her away, and she probably lost her mind; right in this very cell, doing the same thing I'm doing. I shivered again. I decided to stop tapping my head against the wall.

I sat there and stared down at my fragile little body, all wrapped up in this cream-colored fabric. It felt rough, coarse, and it itched my bare arms as they sat neatly tucked away inside of it. I felt frustrated; as a stray piece of hair kept falling down into my face and tickling me, and I could not push it out of the way. I felt like there were spiders crawling all over my body, and there was nothing I could do to get them off of me. I was absolutely trapped, and it made me so fucking nervous.

My eyes pulled in and out of focus. It was so dark in that cell, the only thing I could see was the small square of light fighting it's way through the tiny square cut out of the door; the only opening towards the hallway.

My stomach churned. The room smelled of disinfectant; and let me tell you, it wasn't lemon fresh. It reeked of bleach; yet at the same time, it smelled of filth – of other patients, dead or alive, rotting away in this cage, their lives slipping away from them. I felt nauseated with fear and disgust. These people were neglected the care that they needed; shoved into a mental ward, their diseases and illnesses just tossed aside and ignored. Nobody cared, nobody helped them. The less patients to have to deal with, the better; so they were left for dead, with no one to come looking for them. And now, I was one of those people – alone, unloved, neglected, and not a single person coming after me.

I retched, and I tasted the sour bile in my throat as I spit onto the floor. I didn't really throw up anything, I hadn't eaten all day.

It kept coming. I heaved, over and over again; and my stomach muscles contracted tightly with each forceful push. I felt constricted, claustrophobic – the sleeves on my straitjacket began to feel tighter, and the room continued to get smaller. I needed to get the fuck out of there. Anywhere in this asylum had to be better than this dark, miserable cell.

Again, my stomach jolted; I heaved loudly, and nothing but a string of saliva descended from my lower lip. It began to get painful; as there was nothing being pushed up, my muscled just overworked themselves. My body quaked as I sat there on the cold floor, repeatedly being sick.

I wondered where that boy was – Kit. Sister Jude had sent him to solitary as well. He had to be somewhere along this hallway; from what I know, there was only one section at Briarcliff for patients in solitary, and it was right in here. I wanted to call out his name, to see if he could hear me, but I couldn't. I couldn't gather myself together, I couldn't stop vomiting.

I coughed, spitting out more saliva, and I managed to pause for about 30 seconds. I listened for noises in the hall, in other cells; I tried to see if I could hear him. Or, anybody, for that matter. I took in a deep breath and cleared my throat, although it felt rough and scratchy.

"K-Kit?"

I waited, listening intently, but I didn't hear a response. Perhaps I was too quiet. I cleared my throat again, loosening up some of the mucus coating my vocal chords.

"Kit? Are you in here?"

I paused again, and I sighed. The cells must be soundproof. I felt my stomach churn again at the thought of being alone; but then I heard a noise, and I don't think I've ever heard a sweeter one.

"Audrey?"

My anxiety flushed out, I felt so much better. I didn't feel sick anymore. I crawled on my knees over to the door and sat next to it, pressing my ear against the cold metal. "That's you, right, Kit?"

"It's me, Audrey. I'm here, I'm right here. Are you okay?"

I felt myself smile; yet at the same time, my eyes blurred with tears. I felt so overwhelmed. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Was that you bein' sick in there?"

My cheeks went red with embarrassment. He heard that? Tears spilled over my cheeks; I wanted to wipe them, but my hands were bound at my sides. "...Oh, uh, yeah."

"I'm gonna getcha outta there, Audrey. Don't you worry, okay?"

I sobbed quietly, trying my hardest to stifle the sounds so that the boy across the corridor wouldn't hear me breaking down behind the metal door. "O-okay, Kit."

"Just hang in there for a bit, okay? I can't do anything with this goddamn jacket on, an' I gotta wait for Sister Jude to-"

Suddenly, the sound of the hall door opening up echoed throughout the empty hall. I breathed a sigh of relief; Sister Jude was finally coming to get us.

The faint sound of footsteps vibrated through the door that my head rested upon. The sound was a bit different than her normal heels; it seemed duller, heavier. The footsteps got closer, vibrating my door a bit more and more with each step. Eventually, the locks to my heavy door became unhinged; and I backed up as it swung open, revealing not Sister Jude, but an extremely tall man with no hair and a long, white lab coat. He raised his eyebrows at my crunched-up position on the floor of the dirty cell as he let out a chuckle; and my heart dropped down into my stomach as I read his name plate.

"Ah, the little new girl. Pleasure to meet you, I'm Dr. Arden."

AUTHOR'S NOTES

This was more of an internal chapter. I mean, when you're in solitary, there's nothing to do but listen to your own thoughts. So what better thing to write about?

Okay, I know you've gotta be wondering – what is Audrey's story? What crimes is she talking about?

Stick around and read a few more chapters. In time, my dear readers.

Thank you for reading. Reviews are greatly appreciated, so please leave one if you're feeling up to it. (I may even take suggestions, if you wish to enlighten me!)