How did you get this number?
I can't get my head 'round you
Of course you're not coming over
Snap out of it
You're not making any sense

You couldn't be more wrong, darling
I never gave out these signs
You misunderstand all meaning
Snap out of it
I'm not falling for this one

If love is surrender
Then whose war is it anyway?

--

The canvas of the straight jacket rubbed raw against his skin as he shifted his body. His hair was getting long; he blew a strand of the auburn hair out of his eyes and licked his dry lips.

He heard the heavy thuds of the doctors' worn shoes walk past his tightly sealed door; he didn't bother screaming for water because he knew they'd only refuse his request.

The generators that kept the overly bright lights on in his room sputtered to a stop, causing the lights to spontaneously turn off. He gulped because the voices were always the worst at night.

They would always start as a whisper, but as the night progressed, they grew to high pitched screaming that would wrack his disturbed brain around in his skull.

He had come to the asylum when he was fifteen after he had been found covered in his murdered family's blood. 'They told me to do it.' He said to the frowning police off ricers. One officer that had come to dinner sometimes, gritted his teeth and forced himself to look at the mutilated bodies of his former chief, his wife and their young daughter.

'W-who?'

The boy of fifteen became interested in a fly that had landed on the metal table-top. He began to pick at a purplish scab that had crusted on his hand. 'The…the demons that follow me.'

The court had found him insane, but guilty; they knew that they couldn't slap him into a federal prison because of his insanity and also because he was a minor.

His eyes snapped open as he heard bare feet slowly shuffling over padded flooring. A yellow flashlight flickered on which just slightly revealed a dark silhouette. "…are you going to kill me?" He asked, leaning his head against the padded wall, leaving his throat bared.

The silhouette moved closer until cool breath fanned his face, and a boney hand rested on his thigh. "No." He watched as the figure moved, and then the blemish-free skin of an apple was pressed against his chapped lips. "Can I tell you a story?"

-

Make no sudden movements
And no one will get hurt
You're making me nervous
If you know what's good for me
Why would I be leaving you?

Now, I've had it up to here
Don't ever try that again
Why are you so quiet so suddenly?
Go on, have it
You're just dying to try me

-

This is a…sequel(?) to 'My mother was…' I actually wrote this around March in Geometry. Yosh! Tomorrow (later today actually; it's 12:47 now) I'm leaving for Sioux City. I'm excited :D