Kiriska: Terribly sorry for the long delay! I've been distracted with school and other stuff. -_-"" Plus I couldn't decide who's POV it should be. And I did get 5 reviews,...4 at ff.net, 2 at mm.org...I'm going to keep doing that, 5 reviews til next chapter. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, cuz it's been bugging me since the last time I updated. And again, I appoligize for the fucked up court case and punishment. Maybe someday I'll fix it. o.0

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The Homicidal Maniac

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Chapter Twenty-One: Ayslum

Yamato

The car moved forever. Past buildings I knew, past landmarks I knew, past the life I've always known. Past the spot where Myotismon collapsed, past the place where we all lived at one point. I was leaving my life. Pretty soon I didn't recognize where I was. I mean, I've been out of the city before, but it wasn't often. I don't remember them exactly, building for building, like I knew my home.

We rolled into the countryside. Cows and sheep flew by. Distant farms and wandering dogs. I glanced at the officers sitting in the front, on the otherside of the metal mesh. They were talking quietly, looking kinda bored actually. They didn't even want to take me to the ayslum, they didn't care, they just wanted to go home. Ayslum. That's where I was going. An ayslum, they all thought I was insane.

Again, I questioned my own sanity. I certainly didn't feel insane, not at all, I felt pretty much normal. Besides the fact that I was on my way to an ayslum, all else was normal. I looked down at my handcuffs. I'm lying to yourself again, Yamato. Nothing will ever be normal again. You're going to the looneybin for 3 years or until they can prove you sane, which they won't, because you don't even know if your insane or not. I was harsh to myself. I was so pessimistic.

I uttered a dry laugh to myself. My throat was dry, the sound was ugly. One of the policemen looked back at me, I didn't look up, instead I glanced back out the window. More sheep. I had a sudden urge to pull out my knife and throw it at them, I visualized the blade embedded in the oily white coats and drawing out the elixir of life within. I could picture it so clearly in my head. The sheep, laying on it's side, red blood spilling out and staining it's snow colored fleece.

I shook my head, we drove pass the flock of sheep. You don't have your knife, Yamato,...and you're also insane. I buried my face in my hands. What happened to my life? My face was dirty and bruised, I could feel dry, cotted, sticky blood on my cheek. I pressed my finger against that spot, it stung. I lifted my head up again and ran a hand through my hair. It was matted, tangled, and cut up in several places. I wonder if I could recignize myself.

~

The ayslum was a grey building. Not very big, not very small. The windows were tiny, little black...things...I doubted much light seeped through them. The police opened the door and pulled me out, which one on each side of me, they dragged me into the dark, gloomy, building where I was to be for the next five years. The trip from the car to the entrance went so slowly, I debated with myself whether or not to make a run for it. I decided against it, there was nothing out here but sheep, cattle, and other smelly shit. Open grassy plains were everywhere, I wouldn't be able to go very far until they found me. The dragged me into the ayslum, the glass doors closed behind us. Shutting me off to the world I knew, locking me into the house of crazies...

I was passed between several people, people dressed in white uniforms, people dressed casually, so many people. I hate them all. Some of them tried to talk to me. They spoke slowly, as if I was retarded. When they recieved my file from the police, and learned of my recent past. They stopped talking to me. They kept silent and continued to escort be around the building. I was finally put into a room. It wasn't like I imagined. Not at all. It wasn't a white padded room.

Well, it was white yes. But it wasn't as tiny as some discribe. It was the size of a small bedroom. There was a bed, covered in clean, white, hospital-smelling, sheets. The floor was carpetted, a light blue color. The ceiling, too, was a light blue color. That whole thing was calming colors, did they really believe in that shit? There was really nothing else in the room. It was empty. Lonely. Isolated. Like me?

They left me in that room, locking the door behind them. I lay down on the bed, instantly dirtying it with my filthy body. I just lay there, staring at the ugly pale blue ceiling. My head hurt of bruises, my arms hurt of cuts, my chest hurts of scars, my heart hurts of hate. I rolled over and felt something in my pocket. I sat up and look it out. It was my harmonica. It hadn't been taken from me. I lift it to my lips, which were capped and cut. Music. I needed music. Or whatever's left of my sanity, will surely wither soon.

I took a breath, and blew into my instrument. The first sound cracked, and was hollow. I licked my lips, wetting them, and tried again. It was better. Still somewhat hollow sounding. A saw a head appear at my tiny window in the door. It was a doctor, he glanced at my harmonica, turned away, said something to someone, turned back, then left. Good. They weren't going to take this from me. I put the silvery object to my lips again.

The sounds thath escaped were chilling. Haunting sounds. They were darker than anything I had every played. I wish I had my guitar. I sigh and stopped for a moment. I closed my eyes. The darkness I saw was mystifying, a swirling of colors, a twisting of hopes. Calming. I opened them again. I hated what I saw. I leaned backwards against the smooth white wall.

//Don't open your eyes

You won't like what you see

The world, run over by society...//

I paused, I heard someone whispering outside my room. I would have normally felt angry. But I was too tired to feel angry. I shrugged it off and continued.

//Don't open your ears

You won't like what you hear

Crys of lost souls, screams of fear...

Don't open your eyes

You won't like what you see

The chains of life, you'll never be free...

Don't open your nose

You won't like what you smell

Polluted, foul odors, smoke filled hell...//

My voice was a stale, lifeless, tone. The melody of my tune seemed to echo in the empty room. I still felt the presence of people outside, listening to me. Fine. Let them listen to my misery.

//Don't open your eyes

You won't like what you see

It's choking my heart, so hard to breathe..

Don't open your mouth

You won't know what to say

Dry throat, dry mouth, bathed in dismay..

Don't open your eyes

You won't like what you see

Tears of sufferage, fall to your knees..//

The words weren't from my head, I wasn't thinking them up. They poured from my anger, my depression, my longings. They spilled out of my soul, out of my mouth. My head hurt.

//Don't open your heart

You won't like what you feel

The Truth grasps your soul, goddamnit, it steals

Don't open your eyes

You won't like what you see

Slave of something, for eternity//

I closed my mouth. I had nothing more to say. I was done. For the moment. I glanced sideways at the window, a head ducked, I almost laughed. They were almost as pathetic as I am. I picked up my harmonica again. And played the tune of the song I had just composed. That chilling melody. The slow, detatched rhytmn. The sound danced and bounced in this empty room. And kept me company.

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Kiriska: Just so you know, this song, and the one way back in Ch.4, are both works of my own. I didn't take from anyone or anything. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't take them from me. Thanks. I hope you like this chapter, I know some of you want me to move it along. But then it wouldn't be suspense, eh? I'll get out of Yama's head next chapter. Probably to Koushirou. Plz, review. 5 reviews til next chapter. Thanks much.