Song is Crazy=Genius by Panic! At The Disco (there IS cussing, so if you're not into that, then you don't have to listen)

Twelve years later

A shrill beep sounds through the walls of my cell, signalling my food is here. Limply, I grab it, eating slowly. 

Another meal, another day of living a meaningless existence. 

Twelve years ago from today, I was ripped away from my family. All because my brain functions differently from the rest of the population. Then again, I'm 'contagious'. A disease. I'm dangerous. 

I laugh weakly at my thoughts. They told me I was crazy when I was only five?  Ha, if anything, they made me crazy.

Finishing up my food, I glance around at the walls again. They're blank, but they hold stories. Stories of my pain, my suffering. They hold my tears, my screams. They're my family. The only solid thing I've seen except for the door. They hold me together; keep me from going truly insane.

They test me. Pass me pills in the food. I don't care anymore. They say it's to 'treat me', so I can be let out one day. When will that day come, huh?! After twelve years, can you blame someone for not trusting their methods?

I start to hum a song from Emma. She used to sing it a lot, even with the cuss words. I cut them out, though, and replaced them with non-cuss words. I hate cussing; it tears me apart and reminds me of my lost family. 

"If crazy equals genius. Then I'm a freaking arsonist, I'm a rocket scientist! Hey ay ay, hey ay ay, if crazy equals genius!" I sing to myself, leaning my head back. (A/N Haha, while re-reading this after a while of not writing, I was listening to the song right as the words he sang came up. I was like 'lol, that was a funny coincidence' in my head)

In a corner of my room, I have a stack of books and workbooks. They 'value our education', so they gave us interactive workbooks for grades one through twelve. I finished them all three years ago, when I should've been in eighth grade. I've also read all the books multiple times. So many times, in fact, I've memorized almost all of them. 

To pass the time now, I often get lost in my head. In there, I'm with my family, laughing and being a normal teenager. I get to see my brother and I hug and spend time together. I get to see my mother hug and kiss me all over. I get to see my father smile at me, proud of who I've become. I get to see Emma, smiling and laughing, ruffling up my hair like when we were little.

It's never real; never ever. When I open my eyes, I find myself with just the walls and the door. 

Other times, when I'm too emotional to handle day-dreaming, I draw. It's simple, really. By using the metal utensils they give me for my meals, I scrape it against the stone walls. I've even used my water and certain foods to create water colors. They try to give us color in our lives, to 'help us feel more at home'. Colored napkins, colored utensils, colored food even! It makes me sick sometimes, but I use it for my art. I find it funny, actually, that they would give 'mental patients' metal tools and colorful food. How ignorant are they?

I stare at my art now. With all it's smooth edges from rubbing, they look like they could pop out and help me, keep me company.

Who are you kidding, Ryan?  You're crazy! Art can't come to life! And the walls and doors aren't your family! And most importantly, you will never see your real family again.

My thoughts bring tears to my eyes. A sob escapes my throat, as I slide down on the wall more, until I'm curled up on my side, my back pressed against the cool stone walls.

If I imagine hard enough, I can almost feel the walls come alive and wrap me up in their cold embrace. A cold embrace is better than no embrace. 

My eyes slowly start to droop, until I hear it: a muffled sound. It's warm, and not a bell. I perk up, crawling over to the door.

Peeping through the food slot, I see two pairs of legs. One is clad in black slacks, the other is clad in something I haven't seen in a long time: jeans. 

I gasp. This is someone new to the institution. 

The sounds stop, and I mourn the loss of the warm vibrations. I realize now they were voices.

Next thing I know, the door is opened, to reveal the two pair of legs with shoes on now. I've never seen such shiny dress shoes. The person with slacks wears those, but the person with jeans wears slightly worn-out tennis shoes.

I slowly look up, still in my crawl position, to find an oh-so-familiar face: the doctor from my first day here. His hair has gone almost completely gray, and his face has smile lines, as well as frown lines. 

Right now, he holds an extra wide smile on his lips. I gape at him, feeling anger bubble up in me. 

"You," I seethe, my anger finally spilling out from my heart, poisoning my veins with its vile substance. 

His smile turns to a frown.

"I beg your pardon?" He asks me.

"You did this!" I screech, rising up and clenching my fists until they turn white.

"Nurse Tina?! Please get a jacket for this young man; quickly!" The doctor suddenly shouts over his shoulder, his calm demeanor contradicting with his tone. 

"You did this to me! You made me who I am! You made me like this! You're a monster!" I scream in his face, lunging.

My vision is tinted by red, but I could care less. Right now, all I want is to destroy him and make him pay for what he's done to me.

Right before I can lay a finger on him, though, the second pair of legs pulls me away. I thrash around, kicking and screaming at Jean Person to let me go.

"Get your hands off me!" I screech, kicking more.

My vision is now tinted black, as I claw at their arms. Jean Person winces, but continues holding me down. I now notice the material of what I thought were jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. The material is almost plastic-like, yet soft to the touch. Odd. I've never felt that texture before.

This new material calms me down a bit, allowing for my vision to go back to normal.

"I have it, Sir!" The nurse the doctor called for earlier arrives, carrying a white jacket made of the same material.

Jean Person holds me down as they put me in the straight jacket. 

"What are you doing?! I'm not crazy!" I shout, struggling with the restraints.

"You were right, Dr. Wilson; he is dangerous," Jean Person says, and I notice that their voice holds a guy's tone.

I turn in my restraints to get a look at him. I'm met by breathtaking blue eyes. They stare into my soul, picking apart my walls to see me. I almost cry. Black hair gets in the way a bit of his eyes, and it looks so soft. I wonder what it feels like...?

"Hi," the guy speaks, giving me a bright smile.

I feel my face freeze, not sure how to react. In fact, I now realize I don't even know how to properly speak or behave around people. I've only ever been in my head, or with my books, or with my walls. Never with a real, breathing, being with a beating heart. 

"Is he calm enough for us to set you up?" The doctor asks.

"Are you? Calm enough to sit in the corner quietly?" The guys turns to me, asking with a soft voice.

I only gape at him, before I shuffle backwards, sliding down the wall in the corner of my cell.

"Thank you," the doctor says, walking inside with the guy. 

"Will this be okay for you? We can always put you in the room next door," the doctor asks the guy.

"It's fine. Besides, I want to be able to keep watch over him at all times."

"Okay, good. Let me go get your items. You can stay in here and introduce yourself to him."

"Okay, thank you, Dr. Wilson," the guy says, before the door shuts, leaving me alone with the person in front of me. 

Oh I remember this chapter! Lol, I've already written to chapter 6, and I wrote this a few weeks ago like the prologue. Well, at least I can remember what I wrote!

QUESTION TIME: What's a favorite hobby of yours?

My Answer: Well, I really can't answer with writing or reading (seeing as most - more like all of the -  people on wattpad have that as a hobby already), so I'd say uh....listening to music? I used to have singing and drawing as hobbies, but not anymore, really. I'd say - if can count them as "hobbies" - mine are listening to music or watching anime (lol).

Comment, vote, and share plz!

-Mel