I always wondered how I got here. Stuck in this hell hole. The space around me was dark. Damp, and smelled of dried blood. They called it ' rehabilitation' but I know better than that. It's hell. A place to punish those like me. I often tell myself.  'its not real'. But the scars when I wake up always prove me wrong. The damp, rotten vileness of the moldy room always makes me gag. Every day at 8:00 am the same announcement comes over the camera speakers. "Time to take your medication" then shortly after a person would come and take us away in a wheelchair. I was alone in my room. I, among other people had to share a room. If you could even call it that. My roommate was bubbly. Talkative. Loud. Their name was Ben. Untill one day he was gone. I saw him arguing with a staff member about taking medication. He was shot right then and there. Then taken away. My new roommate is named Axel. He's quieter. Still Childish, but quieter. Sometimes I think of Ben. And what he has done to be in this place. Or to be killed like that. One day before he was killed I asked him. "I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." He said with a smile. He never told me more than that. This horrible place is for those who've committed crimes. They take us away and everyone else in the world forgets us. This place can't be legal, but I can't do anything about it.  ~the door creaks open with a creepy sound.~   "624.. time for your counselling session." The red haired employee tells me As he takes me away.