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***Now you're going to read the first rough draft of my finished first chapter of the book I am attempting at writing. But before you read anything READ THIS. This warning contains that you must be a little mature for it. It's a little demented in a way, and would make you think twice about what's in my head. I can assure you that's it just a story, and I am just interesting in the crazy minds of other insane people. This kind of stuff is sort of fun to write. I am not sick or need help, lol.***


The First Day

chapter one


All I could think was, "What the hell?" What was going on? I was in what seemed like an ambulance, but I was being restrained down, unable to move. Struggling, I looked around in this cage. There were needles and small bottles full of liquids. Some said things I couldn't even read. I didn't even bother. It already felt like there was something wrong with me.

Was there some thing wrong with me? I've seemed to wake up with this cage. Two men in white staring at me intently. It was as if I was a dangerous animal. Are they afraid I am going to attack them randomly? Silly, how could I? I am restrained down, how could I possible hurt you?

My eyes flickered as a second passed and so did theirs. Theirs flickering more urgently now that my eyes flickered. It seemed like their eyes were going to fall right out of their sockets they seemed so wide. They'll fall so far out, the thing holding them in, I will see it. I would see right to there brains. It would be my fault, and I would laugh too hard. It would be funny. It'd would be so much my fault as it would be theirs. They were staring at me like that.

I closed my eyes imaging this more deeply. Blood coming out of their sockets. Then I paused for a brief moment. Was this why they are staring at me? Because I am dangerous animal? I was just steadily imaging their eyes falling out. But like I said, It would be their faults, not mine. No, that's wrong. I can't imagine this!

"What's wrong with me?!" I some how seemed to scream out.

Their eyes flew at me as too their hands. It seems now I was struggling to get loose. I was biting them, making them bleed, then blood flowing from my mouth. One guy was holding me while another was holding a needle in his hand coming at my arm. I was screaming almost chocking on some of their blood that was in my mouth still. It seems a river practically flowed into my mouth.

My head bobbed forward, most of the blood dribbling out. My breathing steadied a little. Everything got a little blurry and mishapped. I tried to reached out, but my hand was restrained only to about an inch. I couldn't grab anything. I tried looking up, But my head seemed to spin a little. I bobbed my head back a little. My head and my eyes finally got the picture, sleep. My body going limp I went to sleep.



-



I woke up in a room that seemed to smell more sterile than any room I've been in. I tried to get up, but only to be pulled back by tan colored restraining belts. I looked at them then my wrists. They were pink and bruised. Cuts up and down both wrists, some still fresh. They looked like they were made during the night. I didn't seem to recall doing anything last night. I still have no clue why I am here in the first place.

They think I am crazy don't they? Did I make a remark that the world was going to end and that I saw it? Did I attack a stranger telling them that I am a vampire and I need their blood? What could've I possibly have done? Nothing that goes to mind, no. Maybe some one lied to them.

But, no, I probably did something, and it keeps replaying over in my head that I most likely did. That was the most disturbing part. This place was disturbing beyond it all. White every where made it this place completely blank. The only color was the cream colored stripe in the middle of the wall traveling back to where my eyes started. The floors where pretty shiny from what I could see from the little my head could point my eyes to.

All I could possible do is just look up and lay there. It felt as time ticked away I was rotting away. More time ticked away and no one showed up. It was as if they didn't even care. If some one did come they could at least loosen the belts holding my body down. It feel like my wrists and ankles are suffocating. But only if it were my neck that was suffocating. No, maybe their's. They put me here, not myself. I didn't do anything that would've put me here. They're lying to themselves if they think I did anything. If that was the case then the suffocating would get deeper and their faces would be purple and blue. Their eyes would almost pop out of there heads.

Then I paused. A flash back of blood in my mouth. Two men holding me down while I bite them. Ear bleeding screams coming form my mouth, escaping. Each scream sounding louder than the next. Then a poke in my arm and I fall into a deep slumber.

That's why I am here isn't it? That one tiny thing, right? Tiny? Right. There was blood in my mouth. Not my blood, theirs! It was flowing out of my mouth onto my clothes, their own blood on theirs. It makes me nauseous to even think about it. It makes my face feel white and pasty. Suddenly it felt like there was something in my throat, as if something and crawled it's way in, died, and needs to come out.

Then there was vomit spewing out of my mouth all over my clothes. Suddenly, I was choking on my vomit. I tried coughing it out, it was hopeless to get it out. My head could only reach to about an inch. Turning my head wouldn't even make it come out, I was already choking on it. I choked more and more, and still nothing.

The door to my prison smashed open. A man in a coat and a women in a white uniform holding a tray full of metal objects and bottles rushed in. The man took the belts off as fast as he could and started pushing on my chest. The women blew air into my mouth. Soon, everything came out of my throat and mouth and I was no longer choking anymore. I could breathe properly. Not only that, but I could reach because I was no longer held down by those evil belts.

I looked up and saw the women almost vomiting. I could see my vomit on her cheeks and on her rosy lips. She was trying to wipe it away but only to spread more on her cheeks. Her face turned a little white, but I could see she was trying to be professional about it.

The room no longer smelled sterile, but more like vomit. It smelled really awful and putrid. It flowed around and out the still open door. There my eyes locked on the door. I just realized that it was open, and I wanted out. But I couldn't just run, they'll catch me. But it seems the women caught on to what I was thinking and closed the door.

"We saved her, but do you think we should keep her strapped down? What if something like this happens again? We can't really take the chance of this happening again. What if she has the flu?" The women questioned the Man. Her arms were folded across her chest, and her eyes examined me hard.

"If she had the flu she would've puked again. She doesn't look sick. Maybe she ate something bad before ending up here. And I agree we should keep her unstrapped, but we'll keep her in this room locked. We can't take the chance of her attacking any doctors, nurses, or even the patients. She seems to be content though. We'll give it a day or two to see if she's okay with going to being out of the room." The Doctor exclaimed while he wiped some sweat off of his pale skinned forehead then running his hands through his black hair.

By his face it looked like he must've been at least in his twenties. The strong light made his really blue eyes sparkle. But the concern brought unnecessary wrinkles in between his eyebrows. The purple bags under his eyes looked like he hasn't slept in two days. My all of a sudden vomit accident must've been the high-light of his day because he kept looking at me.

He was on his knees his body over mine as I just lay there. He was breathing hard, his hot breath hitting my face. It warmed me up from the cold tiled floor. I shivered a little from it

He picked me up from the floor and set me on the bed. He put a blanket over my body.
"How are you feeling after that?" He asked me, his deep voice whispered on into my head.

I couldn't seem to find any words. The last thing I remember ever saying was from last night when I was screaming bloody murder. But I seemed to pitch out a whisper, "Fine."

"Are you nauseous?"

I whispered out my words some more, "No."

"Do you remember why you puked?"

"No," I lied.

"Okay," He said, and then turned away from me and scribbled some things on some paper that was set on top of a clip-board.

The nurse finally wiped the vomit from off of her face, "Should we move her to other room then while this one is being cleaned up? Maybe one with a bed without straps?"

"Yeah, do that. I'll get some one down here do clean this up. Mean while, can you clean her up and find an empty room for her?"

She started walking towards me, "Yes," then held her hand out to me.

I was uneasy with this gesture, it didn't feel right. I just looked at her hand and tugged the blanket over my shoulder a little. I didn't feel like saying no, so I just showed her. But she refused and moved her hand closer to me and smiled.

"Makes this easy. I really don't want to tug you out. It's not good for your mental heath," She smiled wider, her teeth whiter than ever. Her blond curls made her face a little soft and toned.

It kind of made easier, but I still didn't want to nudge. So, I closed my eyes. There, I pictured the blond curled nurse, but she was screaming. I saw myself with some kind of sharp surgical tool, blood on it. My eyes wandered to her again, but there's blood running down her face. I looked closer and there were cuts on her face. A sudden chuckle came from throat. Not only from my daydream, but from my real self.

I opened my eyes suddenly. Her face a little confused to my sudden chuckle. I slid up from my laying and just started to laugh really loudly. Tears streamed from my face. My mouth open wide with more loud laughter come from it. My eyes tightened from the laughter.

I opened my eyes, and there was a sudden stop to my laughter. My hands must've found their way around the nurses neck. My body must've found a way to shove her entire body to smash her up against the hard wall. My hands tightened and my arms found their way to shake her. Her head kept smashing up against the wall. The shaking got harder and some blood started to form on the wall. I could tell she was no longer conscious and that me giggle a little.

The Doctor was trying to pull me off of her, but I kept my lock on her. He ran away from me, but to the tray. He grabbed a syringe and bottle full of some liquid. He poked the needle in the top and tipped the bottle up-side-down. He pulled the end of the syringe to suck of some the liquid out. He pulled out the needle then pushed the end of the syringe just a little.

He ran back over to me. I was too distracted to notice, but he poked the needle into my arm. He pushed all the liquid in. I calmed down and let go of the nurse. The nurse slid from the wall to the floor and just laid there, motionless. The Doctor caught me before I fell over. I looked up at his face looking at his blue eyes. My eyes started to flutter. But before I fall into a slumber I whispered, "Sorry."



The bright light shined through my eye-lids. I opened my eyes to find myself yet again strapped down to a bed. I sighed and turned my head to the side. I almost jumped, if I could, when I saw a Doctor sitting in a chair staring at me. It was a Doctor I seemed to remember, but I couldn't seem to recall at all. His bright blue eyes stared at my intently while running his hand through his black hair. Why does this seem so familiar?

My eyes automatically widened with shock, "Oh, my god! Is she alright?!," I screamed as I scrambled to try to get out of my restraints, fighting.

The Doctor got up and ran a short distance towards me. He set his hand on my chest trying to push me down and calm me. I was still fighting. The more I fought, the more his hand pushed against my chest. I could tell he was trying to gentle, yet firm. But some how, even though I realized it, my brain didn't want register it.

"Calm down. She's fine, she's fine. She woke up from being uncon-"

I interrupted him, "I'm horrible! I hurt her! I deserve to die! Kill me! Kill me now!"

"Shh..it's fine. You're not horrible and you don't deserve to die. You're just not...mentally...there. You need to relax and calm yourself. You're pulling your cuts open by tugging on the restraints. I'm not really fond of re-wrapping those," He responded to my idiocy as he stroked his hand of my forehead chuckling to himself.

My breathing calmed and I stopped fighting. The Doctors hand stroking on my forehead, I liked it. It made me feel sane. But I got curious, the cuts. I really didn't know how I got those. What from? Was I running through a forest full of thorns and some how my wrists were the only ones getting cut? No, that's silly. Should I ask him? I mean, I have to say something sometime or another.

"Where?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" He replied.

"Where...where...did I get the, um, cuts?"

"You don't remember, at all?"

"No..."

"It's practically why you're here, well, 1/12 of the reason you're here. It's a really long story, do you want to hear it?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well," He coughed, and then continued, "You were being chased by our men. The people that catch the ill and bring them here. You had ran through someone's window and had broken the glass. Funny, no scratch on your body. You had grabbed some of the broken glass threating to cut them up if they got any closer. Of course, they got closer. You were walking backwards and tripped and fell. You sat up and crawled to a corner. Then, well, you started to cut yourself rapidly. But you didn't get too far. They then of course they caught you."

"You're most likely wondering why you didn't get that much cuts in that short amount of time, right? Well, before that night you were a cutter. I guess you had some issues going on. But most of it was from your mental illness. You can't seem to cope with it. You killed some one a year before that because of your illness. You didn't seem to cope with that and you began to cut."

"You'll never be stable unless you're here with help. The restraints are there to keep you from attacking people. You have random fantasies about them, dark ones. You may never be able to see another human soul without being retrained down."

He sighed, "I guess I just gave you your mental history, huh? But you seem to forget most of the time. I can see it. You've most likely realized this. That's what sets you off, shock. The shock of remembering something bad. The shock of choking the nurse, nearly killing her."

"I...I...told you I am not worth living. You said it yourself, I'll never be stable unless I am here. You even said I can never see people unless I am caged like an animal. That's right, I am an animal. It seems I'll just end up being your guy's pet, watching over me until the day I die. I will never have freedom again. Is that what I live for? No, I don't think so because I deserve no life to live," I argued to him, tears flooding their way down the side of my face.

All he could do was sigh to my grief. My argument must've made sense to him, or he was thinking the opposite of it all. He probably couldn't find the words for my craziness. He obviously wasn't the psychologist around here.

He looked at my face and removed his hand from my forehead. His face got serious and professional, "Look, with the proper care you can be mentally stable. You're not going to be here forever and ever. Tests and medications can be given to you. I am quite sure you'll be what people fantasize to what normal is."

My crying stopped. There was no point in it now. What he said made sense, but in the inside, I still felt like a trapped rabid animal ready to come out. Right now, I am just small ankle biting dog. There's no good in me, and I don't know where this doctor is getting it from. I am hopeless and helpless person. There's doubt in that.

He got up from his chair. He slid it till pressed up against the wall. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. The doctor looked tired and obviously hasn't slept in three days. My interrupting vomiting and choking probably kept him from his sleep. I kind of felt sorry for him. He most likely has to keep eye on me, too. But what could I possibly do strapped down? I looked at him intently.

"Go.."

"What?" He curiously asked, confused.

"Go sleep."

"No, I have to keep eye on you. In little bit there's suppose to be about three psychologists coming here to examine you. I need to stay here for that. It's my job," He sighed.

"Oh..." I turned my head the opposite direction from him. My head face the wall the bed was up against.

"But, I will be right back. It's coffee time," He said, and walked out the door.

I closed my eyes. His face popped up into my head. His blue eyes sparkling and his hand being ran through his black hair. The one time he chuckled popped into my head. It made me smile. Then I could hear his deep lovely voice.

He walked back into the room a coffee in his hand and tray full of food in his other, "Coffee is for me, but the food is for you. You must be hungry, no, starving. Let me "uncage" you, but you have to promise to not do anything stupid."

He walked over and loosened up the belts and my hands and feet were free. I set up, my long hair blew in front of my face. I tucked some of the black hair behind my ear. Luckily, I had bangs so most of it wasn't in my eyes. But poor choice for side-swiped bangs.

Some how the tray was in my hands and I was eating it down fast. I was really hungry. I don't even remember that last time I even ate. I ate so fast I didn't pay attention to what I was eating, or even to what it tasted like. Something tasted familiar, but I couldn't examine it considering it was last bite of everything.

I looked up at the doctor, "So, what's your name? I don't want to force myself to call you Doc."

He looked kind of shocked that I was talking to him so forward. It was probably the fact I asked him what his name was. But he also looked down at his white coat. He patted around on his chest what seemed like he was looking for something. He started to chuckle a little and dug into his doctor's coat pocket. He pulled out a name tag and pinned it on the left side of jacket.

"Mm, sorry, it seems like I've forgotten to put that on," He then pointed to his name tag, "Oh, the names Benjamin Matthew Edwards, but that's my full name, so you can just call me Benjamin.

"That's a nice name," I smiled.

"I've already learned yours from the sheets I was given, Miss. Ada Elanor Gale," He smiled.

Fully introduced I thought to myself. It made me smile and feel nice and warm inside. Benjamin, what a sweet name for a sweet man. As distracted as I was I didn't realize three psychologists walk into the room. One of them gasped at my unstrapped position.

"Dr. Edwards, what is the dangerous patient doing out of the proper orders I gave you?" It was a women that had asked. She looked very librarian type. Her hair was in a tight bun and her glasses had the little chain attached to them. There were wrinkles on her face. There were probably more, but the bun was probably giving her a nice face lift.

"Sorry Dr. Harrenman, but she had to eat. She hasn't eaten in a while. We don't want patients to die do we?" I could tell he was being sarcastic about it.

"Well, under those circumstances I guess I could let it slide. It reads here anyway that you had to keep bandaging her wrists up because the cuts kept pulling apart from the tugging? Well, well, a fighter I see. Obviously not mentally stable. Mm, weird daydreams about people and attacking them? Once when brought here...and...," She flipped through some papers on a clip-board, "Nearly killing a nurse?"

"Well it seems to me this women needs to be here for a while. Maybe some human contact will do her some good. A little medication will do. I'll write up a prescription right away," She paused and scribbled some things on a tiny piece of paper and handed it to another psychologists right next to her. He walked out of the room and she continued, "Maybe in a few months she'll be stable enough to go out on her own."

What? I am so confused. I still have no clue what's wrong with me, and they still haven't told me. A name for my illness? Are they trying to keep it away from me. All I keep hearing over and over again that I will be stable again.

Wait, again? I was stable before? Before all this mess I had a normal life? I wonder what it was like..to be normal that is. Maybe a house of my own I lived in with a nice picket fence in the front yard. Flowers growing in a garden? No, that's not normal. That's normal on steroids. My life was obviously not that normal before.

How could've it been? A mental illness building up must've ruin my life some how. Ruining my family. I most likely didn't have a family of my own. Most likely a mom, a dad, and maybe a sibling or two. I probably tore them away from me once my metal illness lashed out. They most likely all forgot about me, not even caring. I probably did something horrible to them.

I was now looking down at my pretzeled legs on the bed. I was crying softly to myself. I could tell no one could hear me because all of them were just chatting away about my brain. My ill brain that doesn't even function right. I don't even feel mentally ill. Sure, I've had thoughts here and there, and nearly killing some one. Maybe I am just a demented murderer? Ha, I am sure they sent those people to mental hospitals to get help. Just like me, the hopeless and helpless.

"Well," Dr. Harrenman started to whisper lightly, "I want you to talk to her for a little bit, and I will examine her in the corner. Maybe she'll forget about me while you're talking to her. Let's see how she does, or, what she does."

"Okay, just start a conversation? I can do that," Benjamin...Dr. Edward's said, and then pulled a chair up beside my bed.

He realized I had been crying and grabbed a tissue out of his pocket. He handed it to me, but I didn't grab it. So he took the tissue and rubbed the tears off of my face himself. Even though I kept crying, he kept wiping them away.

"My life before this, before the illness..was it good?" I finally decided to say something.

"Would you like to hear what it was like before?" He asked me.

"Yes, of course I do."

"Are you sure, you're going to cry more."

"No, I am going to cry more if I don't know. The more I don't know, the worse it gets."

"Okay, well," He hesitated a little to begin, but he continued anyway, "You had a family, in fact a family of you own. You had a husband and a son."

My eyes looked at him intently.

"But, there was a night you had a mental outburst. It's when you began the illness itself. Your husband was trying to calm you down, but you wouldn't budge. You took a knife from the kitchen-"

I interrupted him with a gasp, and I looked at him with terror.

He continued, "You killed your husband.."

I began to cry bloody murderer. I couldn't seem to help myself from it. The one thing I thought I didn't have, and it was one this I did. It began to make sense though, why I started cutting. It was the murder Benjamin had mentioned to me earlier.

My throat started to feel dry from all the crying. I could feel that my cheeks were warm and full of my tears. My eyes were blurred from it. I couldn't see anything but a distorted picture of Dr. Edwards. My chest felt tight and out of air. My head was spinning and it wouldn't stop. This day went from bad to worse, to good, to even worse. What more hell could I could through?