I wake to what sounds like heavy rain on a tin roof; however, I know that is not what the sound truly is.  The sound is gunfire, and I wake to it every morning since the incident.  The gunfire is not real, they say it’s just in my head.  It feels real, though, so real that I feel my bones shiver when the sound rings in my ears. 
I slowly sit up in my bed and look around my room.  This is part of my daily routine, my psychiatrist told me to do this to make myself aware of my surrounding.  I have to reassure myself that I am safe.  She told me that I have to take time to separate reality and what is just my mind playing tricks on me.  My room looks the same as it always does – ghostly white walls, shiny white tile floor, and bright sunlight beaming in from a single window located on the wall opposite my bed.  I also have a table and chair, and yes, those are white also.  I do not know what it is with the white in this place; they think it will make us cheer up, but all that white just makes me feel like I’m drowning.  You might be wondering where all my things are, well I do not have any possessions.  I am considered dangerous and therefore cannot have even a simple hairbrush with me.  I guess they think I could stab someone’s eye out with one or somehow harm someone, and y’know what? Maybe I would.  I would never get the chance to hurt anyone in here, they make sure of that, but, god, how I wish I could.  
The next step in my routine, after making sure my life is real, is waiting for the guard to let me out of my cage – oops, I mean room. Through all my time here, I still don’t know the new guard’s name.  He’s only been here for a while; I don’t know how long exactly. They don’t let me have a calendar; they think it hinders growth. What bullshit.  The guard before this one was great; his name was Kyle.  What a guy.  Too bad he’s gone.  I heard that a patient lost control and starting to eat him alive.  I heard that rumor from Lindy Loo, though, and she’s crazy.  Well everyone in this awful place is.  They try to tell me that I am too, but I don’t let them.  I refuse to believe such hideous lies.  I know who I am, and I am not a lunatic like these other people.  
The new guard unlocks my door and I stand perfectly still in the door frame as he pats me down.  Unlike some of the other patients, I know the drill.  Some of them are stupid enough to try to run, they’re idiots to think they’ll get far at all.  The new guard is more thorough than Kyle, making sure he doesn’t miss a single crevice of my body.  Any “normal” person would be uncomfortable; however, I am used to this treat. Oh, and I am not normal.  When Kyle patted me down, he did a half-ass job, barely grazing my skin, maybe that’s what got him killed.  
After the guard has thoroughly patted me down without finding anything unnatural on my body, I am allowed to step through the door frame.  Finally, I am realized from my room.  I hate that stinking hole.  Those four walls make me feel trapped and alone.  No wonder why everyone here is insane.   
First event of the day is always breakfast.  Today we are blessed enough to eat a steaming pile of slop that looks like horse shit when it is plopped onto my tray.  I politely thank the lady for the scrumptious looking meal as I swallow the vomit that just came up my throat.  I have a hard decision to make every morning in the cafeteria. Should I? A) Sit with the schizophrenics who will no doubt just be talking to themselves and shouting the whole time. Or B) sit with the psychotics who will just stare into space and freak out.  I decide to go with the last option C) sit by myself in the corner of the room on the floor. This will of course get me into trouble, but I just can’t look at that slop drizzle out of any of the crazies’ mouths today. 
I sit my ass on the cold tile and set my tray on my legs in front of me.  Now I’m faced with another hard decision.  To eat or not to eat?  If I eat, I risk vomiting up this disgrace in an hour or so; on the other hand, if I do not eat, I risk facing consequences for disobeying.  They hate when we do anything slightly different than what they tell us to.  Me not eating will come as a huge slap in the face to the ladies in the kitchen, oh well.  Soon enough, a guard comes over to me to interrogate why I am not stuffing my face with this nasty substance.  
“Now, Susie, what’s going on here?” Luckily, I get to deal with one of the kinder guards.  Some of them just demand that I eat, and when I do not, I get force fed with a tube down my throat. What a thrill.  
“Well, pal. Would you eat this?” I ask dryly, pointing to the food on my tray. The guard stares at me blankly, refusing to engage with my question. “Well, I won’t. Do what you need to, but I am not going to willingly eat this crap.  I’d rather be dead.”  They don’t like when we bring up death here, so I know I just messed up.  
“You know you’re not supposed to do this, don’t you?” The guard asks and I roll my eyes in response. “Listen, you get off the hook just this one time, if I catch you pulling this stunt again, you will be punished.” And just like that, the guard walks away.  If only all of them were that easy to manipulate, this place wouldn’t be half as bad.  
Although we are not allowed to leave, I see a couple girls trying to walk out through the guards.  The guards, of course, are trying to stop them.  The girls are persistent and start yelling at the guards.  Finally, some real entertainment in this place.  Unfortunately, the guards will probably just sedate the girls to get them to calm down.  I watch the interaction carefully, waiting for a needle to appear in either of the guards’ hands.  Instead of a needle appearing, a different object appears in one of the girls’ hands.  I can’t make out what the object is, even with what little light that shines in reflecting off it.  Within a split second of the object appearing, the girl that holds it makes a swift movement and slices the neck of the guard standing in front of her.  I do not know why I stand up, ready to go over, that is the last thing I should do.  There is just so much blood, it sprays out of the guard’s neck, covering the two girls and the guard beside him.  So much red, this has caught the attention of everyone in the cafeteria and the rest of the patients are running in the opposite direction.  I do not know what in me makes me walk towards the two girls, now practically bathing in blood, but I do.  I start walking and within a split second the girl slices the other guard’s neck.  Both the guards go limp and their bodies collapse to the floor.  The girls step over the bodies without hesitation and begin to run down the long hall in front of them.  I decide to follow, just as a loud alarm starts to ring above my head.  I look back over my shoulder as more guards appear with shocked facing on their faces, even they cannot handle all that blood.