Insane, crazy, psychotic, mental. These are all things I've been called by everyone in my life who betrayed me. My family members are the insane ones for sending me away to be locked up. I promise you, I didn't kill my brother. The cuts and gashes along with the death of my little brother were not my fault; I was being controlled by the demons. 

             The whooshing of cars passed me by, seeming more and more distant as I was driven farther and farther away. My chauffeur, Nathaniel, all fat and plump, sat in the driver's seat, his frown never wavering. He was the asylum employee that was sent to take me away.

             My mind was the only active part of my body. The courtroom deputy had tied a straightjacket around my arms and torso. Not even my legs could move as they were tied to the car seat.

             My brain processed the early morning starting with my stupid court trial. The bang of the crusty, brown gavel rang in my ears as I angrily wandered to that moment. The moment where I was pronounced insane.

           "Defendant is deemed insane!" exclaimed the judge, her dark, gloomy gown sweeping the floor as she stood up.

             All members of the jury and all members in the courtroom began to rise and shuffle their way to the door. The deputy next to the judge moved swiftly and took out a clean, white straightjacket. Rage boiled inside of me like a tea kettle whirring, realizing that they had already prepared to tie me up.

              The rest of that morning was fuzzy. All I remember was seeing the straightjacket and then all of a sudden I was in a black Chevrolet with a guy named Nathaniel. I was told I was screaming, but I had every right to. I was screaming about the demons that crept into my room at night; the demons that caused me to act crazy; the demons that made me feel scared and haunted and anxious; the demons that led me to be "deemed insane".

               Blood dripped from my cheek onto my lip. My stress level was as high as a California redwood tree and biting my cheek was apparently my new way of coping with it. My neck itched and stung from the knife cuts and dried blood that clotted from my lower chin all the way to my ankles. Everyone wondered where these marks came from. I knew it was the demons, but everyone thought I was crazy, I'M NOT CRAZY! I am positive that the beasts made me cut myself. They threatened to possess me to kill myself if I didn't slice open my own skin.

                As Nathaniel pulled into the barren parking lot of a small building, a nearby sign read Chesterfield Insane Asylum. I thought of screaming, like I always did, but Nathaniel had reminded me earlier that any word out of me and my mouth would be forcefully shut. I had already tried to wiggle free of the straightjacket that strangled my arms, but the demon in the corner of my brain warned me to stop.

              The gearshift clicked as Nathaniel put the car in park. He opened my door and untied the knotted rope around my ankles. Bruised, red burns had replaced the ropes and my ankles screamed with pain. I heard the demons in my brain cackling as the pain increased and spread like a virus through my legs and stomach. My throat began to close up and before I could even say "ow" I began cackling, forced to by the terrible fiends that lay in my brain. I kept cackling and partly screaming due to my pain until Nathaniel smothered my mouth with an itchy cloth. My laughter decreased to a high pitched muffle as I followed Nathaniel into my "new home".

                The asylum entrance used DNA recognition to unlock the heavy door. The halls were painted with black and white checkered designs. I passed an area where there lay an uncomfortable chair and trays filled with needles and bottles. I caught a glimpse through the window of a room upstairs. I guessed it was an observation room where asylum scientists tested crazy people, not rational people like myself. The demons let out a light chuckle within me as I walked past the largest needle.

              I continued my trail behind Nathaniel, his chubby feet wobbling side to side. Every few seconds we'd go past a hallway full of little cages. I assumed these were dorms where the psychotic people lived. The cells had thick glass around the door and shiny bars behind the glass. The rooms had a small pit which I couldn't find the purpose of and a measly wooden chair. No beds, no people.

                After I walked past three more halls and up a flight of stairs, Nathaniel halted in front of a room. It was the first dorm in the hallway and seemed to be the smallest and dirtiest one. As Nathnaiel unlocked the glass and bar door, I heard a muffled scream whose source seemed to be close by. As I glanced down at the other rooms, I observed they were all full. There were kids with straight jackets, adults with their hands free but their hair sparse. The cage across from mine was home to a boy about 4 feet tall with wide eyes and a wide grin. He was looking me in the eye, and I would soon realize he would never stop looking.

             "Sheila Neezabiak" Nathaniel spoke monotonously. "Hostel 67".

               Nathaniel pulled the cloth of my straight jacket and unlocked the horrid thing, letting my arms be free. My wrists ached from being in the same position the entire time and a few cuts splattered my skin with blood as the scabs had been torn off. The cloth was ripped from my mouth and my lips cracked from the dryness. Nathaniel spoke no other word and shoved me into my stinky hole, slamming both doors behind me.

               Dreadful days and weeks slowly crept towards my asylum door, eerily waiting for me to break. I discovered that the pit in the floor was for my business, (don't ask) and the chair was my bed. The wooden stool was loaded with splinters and cracks and was practically a weapon which would soon come in handy.

                I got no sleep, and the demons in my head cackled nonstop. I had nowhere to look but down. The little boy never stopped smiling or staring at me and the walls were covered with a brown sludge that I tried not to think about.

                I wanted to prove to all the asylum workers observing me and my family and the judge that I was not insane, but the cackling of the demons and the screeches of the other patients was too much to bear. The cacophony of all the noises around me rang like a church bell and I began screaming at the top of my lungs. Screaming for the demons that wouldn't go away. Screaming because of the betrayal of my family who sent me away. Screaming for the hope that I would be released soon.

                 I went to sleep that night with a pounding headache that felt like a hammer being cracked against my skull. Despite my continuous pain, I actually got a wink of sleep through the discordant noise. When I awakened, the demons had come.

                The morning crept in earlier than I wanted, new blood speckled on the ground due to a recent cut from the sharp wooden chair. I glanced around my dorm, the usual sludge dripping down the wall. Then the back corner caught my eye as I noticed the shiny white teeth of a monster.

                 They all wore black cloaks, covering their body up to their neck. Blood was splattered in the same spot of all three demons, the left shoulder. Their necks were furry and had silver spikes with acid dripping from the tips. Their chins were hairy and pointy and their eyes bulging with red slits across their entire face. The snout of each demon was a dark red, the color of blood. The eyebrows of the demons seemed to be permanently pointing down, always expressing anger. Each smile beared sharp, shiny, black teeth, puncturing their lips and drooling blood. There was only one difference between the demons: their hands. The horrifying monster on the left had hands the color of green poison, claws sharp enough to break through my wooden chair. The beast on the right had dark, navy blue fists the size of a baseball, talons ready to pounce. But the scariest savage was in the middle. It's hands were as red as a tree leaf in autumn but as dark as the midnight sky. The claws of the middle demon radiated anger, cruelty, and death.

                  I screamed. I screamed so loud and deafeningly that even the scary little boy living in the dorm across the way covered his ears. Now that the demons had materialized I wanted to prove that I wasn't insane, that my problems weren't my choice but the cruel monsters' that stood before me. I screamed to get the attention of the workers who were observing me. But not one lousy person came to my aid. That made me angry, angrier than the time my mother kicked me out of the house for being "mental". But what else was there to do?

                The demons moved to different corners of the room. My chair being in the back left corner, the monstrosities occupied the other three corners. They never said a word but I could always hear them snarling and growling as if they were a lion waiting to pounce on a gazelle (and I was that gazelle)! Every time I screeched, yelled or physically expressed my temper by punching the wall, I could hear the demons laugh.

                 One day, after my screaming and crying had ceased for the morning and I reluctantly ate my slop provided by the hospital, I became so angry and infuriated by the demons and thoughts that lingered in my brain. I kicked the dreadful chair I called my bed into the wall. It smashed to smithereens and the splinters flew into my face. New cuts had now formed, dripping blood, as my face had been sliced open. I looked down and the blood that had spilled from my face to the floor was the thing that broke me.

                  As I began to clean up the crumpled chair mess, the red handed demon spoke. Its voice was hoarse yet smooth, calm yet evil, barbaric yet reassuring.

                  "You know what to do. Just call the fat man. He has what you need," the demon said.

                    As I picked up a former leg of the chair, pointy and sharp, the idea came to me. It was time to get out of this awful place. Two months ago I would have never even conceived this horrific idea, but the demons were in my head. I had no choice.

                     The first step of the plan was to cover up the observation hole. This tiny little dot that was positioned on the wall that I had earlier discovered was the camera the asylum workers use to observe me. I reluctantly scraped off some brown sludge, it's mushy consistency making me gag, to cover the camera. I knew that Nathaniel would come to my aid once all the asylum employees figured out they couldn't spy on me anymore.

                     The fat man who had brought me to this dreadful place arrived a little over an hour after the hole had been covered up. My cage was quite a mess as the chair had not been replaced and the splinters still piled up the space. I tried to blend in the corner in which the chair had once sat so I'd be ready. Ready to kill.

                   He opened both larger doors that chained me to my stinky room. The doors closed behind him as he slipped his hands into his pocket. He didn't see me at first, but I was afraid the demons would give it away. But Nathaniel made no remark of the monsters. I was hiding in the left and when I saw Nathaniel wobble to the right I knew It was my time to strike.

                   "The stick" the blue handed demon hissed, his voice giving me chills.

                  I looked down and there was that old, pointy, sharp chair leg that had broken off. I followed the demons' directions as I swiftly and quietly snuck behind the chubby man and stabbed him in his throat. I heard the wooden blade slice through muscle and make a disturbing squishing sound. Nathaniel yelped in pain and immediately began gushing blood down his gray jacket. He rapidly turned around, clenching his wound, but the monsters were already speaking. He would have fallen, but I clawed his shoulder continuing to slice him open.

                 "More, more!" they declared. "The stomach, the hip, the knee!" Each demon named a different part of the body, knowing exactly the man's weakness and how to murder him.

                 More and more I stabbed Nathaniel, anger once again coagulating throughout my body. My hands were smooth and instinctive, in sync with what the demons uttered.

                 Finally, all three barbarians spoke the same word simultaneously, "The heart."

                I took the chair leg, now covered with blood and skin, and stabbed Nathaniel in the heart. At that moment, I let go and he collapsed. Blood pooled down on the ground as I watched him suffer and die.

                The demons whispered coldly into my ear. "Blood. Lock. Everyone. Distraction."

               I had recently learned that the horrors that haunted my dorm couldn't create full sentences, but I understood them most of the time. "Blood" and "lock" meant to use Nathaniel spilled blood to open the door because that's how the doors opened. You needed a worker's DNA or print to unlock any cell. "Distraction" and "everyone" meant to create a distraction for the hospital workers, because alarms would obviously blare. I would unlock the hostels of all the mental inmates, including the staring boy across the hall.

                The plan continued as I opened my door with blood I had scooped off the drenched, red floor. No alarms had sounded yet but it wouldn't be long. I had taken another large chair splinter as my new dagger. The little smiling psychopath was the first dorm to be opened. I learned his name was Otto from the paper taped to the cell door. When he got out, I gave him some blood to help the other patients escape. He seemed to know what his job was. Everyone in the entire mental hospital needed to be unleashed.

                 Alarms began to roar as the scary little boy began opening more and more cells. The demons stayed by my side as I watched their evil and destructive plan unfold. Soon employees would arrive to stop us and blood would soon flood the Chesterfield Insane Asylum.

                  I ran into many workers, all flustered and yelling for backup, and I put their lives to an end. I used new blood and continued to unlock all different patients, each time telling them all the same thing.

               "Kill any asylum worker you see and unlock every single dorm that is occupied by an inmate." I got mixed responses from people. Some walked away before I could say anything, some nodded, lots of them just screamed and ran off.

                The demons continuously whispered in my ears, carefully telling me where to stab. One employee that was surprisingly easy to kill had a taser and, boy, did that come in handy. I travelled throughout the entire building, dark red blood splattered everywhere as the midnight moon rose out the bloodstained windows.

                Screams and laughs from the psychos who had escaped and screeches and cries came from the desperate attendants about to be murdered. I did a final walkthrough of the asylum, making sure every patient was free and every worker was dead. No one seemed to mention or notice the three demons that followed me.

                I gathered most of the inmates and had them follow me to the front doors. Some had created their own weapons, some were drenched in blood, and an unlucky bunch of inmates had been killed during the chaos.

                I gave a final scream to the psychos and gathered blood from my shirt using my thumb. I pressed my finger against the sensor and the large front doors opened. The insane people stampeded out the door into the night; howling, screaming, and laughing.

               Backup would be arriving soon and so would the police and news reporters, but the escape would be easy. Even if I was caught, I had a cover story. I didn't do anything...the demons did it.