"How is anybody suppose to properly sleep with them on?" I groaned, while listening to the constant humming noise caused by the florescent light above my head.

Still a little bit dazed from my way to short nap, I slowly opened my eyes and looked around the padded room.
Why did it have to be white? Do they really think that this would calm anybody down? Why couldn't it be sky blue or a nice pastel green or hell even pink? Literally anything else would be better than this cold, sterile color.

After having spend four days in this room, I was really starting to lose it. There was just nothing to do. Even standing up wasn't really an option because of the straight jacket that bound my arms tightly to my chest. You don't realize how much you need your arms to balance until you can't use them anymore. I thought to myself and let out an annoyed groan. I set up, stretched out my stiff legs and leaned my head against the wall. Left with nothing else to do I once again went over the strange events that had gotten me into this mess, hoping to finally come up with a rational explanation.

After recovering from fainting, I immediately explained to the doctors that, contrary to their belief, I hadn't actually tried to harm myself. And that the wound on my forearm instead had been caused by a glass shard launched at me by an explosion.

Ofcourse they didn't believe even a single word that had come out of my mouth.
But why would they?
Even to me it just sounded competently insane.

After all there hadn't been an explosion or anything like that. But then where had the piece of glass I had pulled out of my flesh come from?
How was all of this possible if it was just in my head? Could it be that I wasn't just a lunatic and that there was actually something more to all of this?

I tried to recollect every little detail from the hallucination and tried to come up with at least somewhat of a rational explanation for it all. But no matter what it still sounded completely insane.

Four days ago when I had finished telling everything, a doctor I had never seen before informed me that there was actually no record of me ever even being schizophrenic and that my file instead stated that I had depression.
Baffled by that I begged him to ask Eddy, hoping that the red-head would be able to testify that I wasn't lying about my diagnosis and the visions that have been haunting me for almost my entire life.
But when the doctor questioned him, he also denied having any memorie of me ever having kind of hallucinations or anything similar.

I was baffled by it. How could he not remember? Is this all just some kind of messed up prank? I had thought and once again demanded from the me completely unfamiliar doctor to speak to doctor Morris instead, believing that she would never participate in such a cruel joke. But what the stranger said next shocked me even more, because apparently there never had been a doctor with her name working in the hospital.

Before I had even time to make sense of it all the doctor suddenly accused me of making it all just up for attention and said that I should stop lying because that would make it easier for the both of us.

I'm not sure what exactly made me snap. Maybe it was the shell-shock from my last hallucination or the fact that nobody believed a single word from my mouth even though they should have known that my psychological problems were not faked. Either way it was just to much for me.

In the blink of an eye I had jumped up from my chair, lifted it over my head and thrown it as hard as I could against the window behind the doctor, shattering the glass into millions of pieces. Without wasting another second I had then used everyone's brief moment of confusion over my sudden out burst, to lunge over the desk at the doctor, repeatedly hit him in his stupid face.

The first few blows just landed on his jaw and forehead but then I managed to land a quite strong hit onto his nose. It gave of a satisfying crack, making me pause for a moment to take in the sight.

His face was already starting to swell up and blood spilled from his nose and mouth like little, red rivers. With a devilish grin I lifted my fist, ready to strike him again but before I could land the hit I was suddenly pulled away and pushed to the ground.
The last thing I felt was how someone stabbed a needle into my neck and injecting something into my vain. It only took a few seconds before I was completely knocking out.

When I woke up I unsurprisingly had found myself in a padded cell, wearing a straight jacket and being told that I had to stay in here until I was no longer a danger to myself or others.

What a bunch of bullshit.
I never would have hurt my self or anybody else. Well except that rude asshole of a doctor but to be honest he did kinda deserved it in that moment. And besides it wasn't like I had tried to kill him or anything. It only had been a spur of the moment kinda thing were I had lost my composure.

No. Stop excusing your shitty behavior! Sure the doc was an asshole but you shouldn't have lost your cool. I lectured myself and sighed, frustrated about my own behavior.

Being locked up like this really messed with your head. It was one thing to be alone when you wanted to but being completely isolated like this, with nothing to do for days was more like torture then a treatment.
All I could hope was that they would let me out soon.

Almost as if my prayers had been heard, I suddenly heard the sounds of footsteps and muffled voices coming down the corridor in the direction of my cell. They came to a hold right infront of the door and just a moment later it got unlocked.
For a moment my eyes, so use to the bright light in the room, had trouble seeing anything in the darkened hallway but when I finally could see who it was I was stunned.

"What the..." I mumbled, my voice raspy from not having used it in days.

Preston was the first one who stepped into the room. With a wide smile he put his fists on his waist, seemingly in an attempt of somesort of superhero pose and yelled, "YOUR SAVIOR IS HERE!"