Chapter Two: Asylum

I sat leaned on a wall of cushions. I could feel nothing but my shoulders. Obviously…

"What the hell are they giving me?" I asked myself.

'It can't really be a sedative. Or could it? I just don't know anymore. I'm lost in my very own mind. Curse it.'

I had no one to speak to. I spent my time speaking to myself when I was in my cell.

'How am I gonna get outta here?'

"It must be about three minutes 'till recess."

And just about after the time I calculated, the bell rang. Each guard came to their respective cell. My guard was Jake. He swiped his security guard through the clearance machine and the door to my cell opened. Jake helped me get up, and I walked outside.

'The last guy who tried to escape ended up fried. I may be hardcore, but I still need a safe way out.'

Jake led me to the medication line where every "patient" stood in line with their guard next to them to take their daily medication. I didn't have medication. My mental status seemed to be terminal. I had no cure. I was destined to be in the loony bin for the rest of my life. All I took was a sedative each day to keep me calm. All it did was make me numb for five hours and only being able to feel my hands.

"Okay Paulo, you're good to go." Jake told me.

He took me to the recess room where there were all sorts of things for crazy nuts to entertain themselves with. There was a small "playground", a TV, painting tools and equipment, and toys. I never used any of these things. Except for my third day here when I painted myself killing a demon with Alastor.

'If I paint anymore of those things they'll think I'm still crazy.'

So all I did for a full hour of recess time was sit on a small plastic chair. Always figuring out how I would be able to get out. I hated that place. I hated it every time someone in here called me Paulo Viceroy. Whoever conspired to get me locked up in that loony bin must've changed my identity completely.

"Dante doesn't exist. I am Paulo Viceroy." I muttered.

That led me to re-think the "reasons" I was here.

'According to the government, I'm a potential danger to mankind because I have a terminal mental illness. I see things that aren't there and imagine impossible things. I think I am a man called Dante who slays creatures of the underworld with a female partner called Trish. I have murdered over one hundred people believing they were demons. I am to be locked up in the National Institute of Mental Health for the rest of my life where I will be treated accordingly and I won't harm anyone else.'

"Bullshit…" I whispered under my breath.

I knew my name was Dante. And I did hunt demons and protected the world from the forces of evil. I knew I wasn't crazy. I never was. Someone had conspired to lock me up here so that I wouldn't protect the world anymore. And that someone had to already know that I was very hard to kill so the second option was make everyone think I was nuts.

'I will find out who did this to me after I can find a goddamn way out of here.'

I looked around the place trying to think of an escape route and a plan to get out. Nothing came to mind. If I wanted to get out, I'd need an accomplice. But who would help me?

'The only way I can get out is with another person helping me. But everyone wants something in return for helping these days. What would I have to offer a guard? I have no money, and Jake is just a replacement since the guard before him is in the clinic after getting his appendix removed. I would have to get help from another patient and offer him to get out along with me. But I can't risk getting one of those real loonies out of here.'

There were ten minutes left before recess time was over. Everyone would return to their cells, in their strap jackets, feeling nothing but their shoulders with their arms crossed inside the jacket, wearing those damned red silk pants and barefoot leaning on the cushion walls.

"Time's up, Paulo." Jake said when those ten minutes passed.

"My name…is…"

"Yes yes, I know, Dante."

"It is Dante!!!"

"Yeah…right. Now come on white-haired wonder. Time to return to your cell."

I growled and gritted my teeth in anger. Jake buckled the strap jacket on me again and took me back to my cell. He entered the locking code on the clearance machine which locked the door. I sat there once again.

'I shouldn't have said that to Jake. There's a staff meeting tomorrow night. Doctors always ask the guards if their patients have shown any changes or if they still speak of their illusions. Jake is gonna tell them that I am still a madman and I'll be marked as no progress for another month!'

I moved back and forth leaning on the wall as if I were on a rocking chair. I looked down at the cushion floor in despair.