Other Stories: Sanity

I’m back with another chapter. I’m sorry this one took so long to post – inspiration came to me while I wasn’t anywhere near a recorder or my laptop. Of course, right?

It’s not my best work, I’m sorry. I was able to feel a little something that I felt when I started writing this, but if you don’t feel it, let me know and I’ll see how I can get back on track.

Today’s picture is called Gakko Gurashi Manga. I found it in the Mid-Season Review: School Live! section of http://operationrainfall.com/2015/08/17/mid-season-review-school-live/. Once you read this section you might get it.

“What’s this?” I’m only half looking at what it is – a box that he’s handing over to me. I have one hand on my shopping cart and the other slowly taking this thing he’s handing over.

“It’s a game.” His response as he lets it go then starts paying attention to the baby carrier sitting in the shopping cart.

“Yeah, well, I don’t play games. Unlike you, I’m a bit too busy.” I try to hand it back.

He shrugs and keeps messing with the baby carrier, but isn’t taking it back. “I make time.”

“Yeah but you don’t have a kid or a job or bills or things like that.”

“I have a job!” He looks back at me but still doesn’t take the box.

“Right. What? Playing video games? Please! Here, I don’t want it! I have to finish shopping and get … back to the sitter …”

The memory fades. I remember it but I don’t. He never took the box back.

“Then what happened?”

I blink but I don’t see anything or anyone. Not sure who asked that but I feel obligated to answer.

“Hey, my kid’s crying, I have to go feed her.” I try to put down the controller while I’m looking at the screen, watching the others going after whatever it was we were trying to kill.

“Now? You picked a fine time to quit!”

Not sure who that was. “I’m not quitting I have to go feed my baby.”

“You leave now and we’re booting you! We had it all planned out.” Same person

“Yeah! Why didn’t you say before that you had stuff to do?” Well, that’s just great. And here I thought he was my friend.

“She just woke up, I have to go feed her!” I’m still sitting on my couch, still holding the controller. Why haven’t I gotten up yet?

“Damn it! Now we’re gonna have to wait?” I’m thinking he’s not much of a friend now.

“Go fucking find someone else! Boot her ass!”

“No, no! Wait! I’ll stay but we have to do this fast ok?”

I’m thinking that’s what started it all.

“Did you wind up finishing fast?”

“Yeah, I think that time we did. She was still crying, loud. She was so mad, didn’t even stop crying until she fell asleep eating.”

“But that wasn’t the last time something like that happened, was it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“How long have you been playing it?”

“I don’t remember. We pulled an all-nighter. We had this major boss we had to take down and needed everyone sharp.”

“So you didn’t hear her crying?”

“Yeah I did, but they needed me.”

“So you let her cry? She needed to be fed, to be changed.”

“I can change her after we beat the boss. And she cried herself to sleep before. I just wake her up and feed her.”

“How many days have you done this?

“I don’t remember.”

“Yes, you do. How many days?”

I’m trying to think, but it’s hard and I’m tired. Things are hazy. I remember her crying. I remember calling out to tell her I’d be right there. I remember …

“Do you remember your brother coming in and seeing …”

“He had no right to be there! I’m capable of taking care of everything!”

“Val, your baby died. You hadn’t fed her in two days. Even though your brother…”

“No! I had it all under control! They’ll tell you. We were kicking ass!” I think I’m crying now. I can see a face before me, screaming at me. Ryan’s screaming at me. And Jackie’s taking …

“They’re taking her! Where are they taking her! They have her! Give her back!”


“You God-damned, mother fucking, son of a bitch! You took her away from me! You took her! Where is she?” He’s holding me back while Jackie leaves; but it’s not them that’s holding me now. The Bitch is watching me, she’s watching this. “You think this is fucking funny? Sitting there like a bitch!”

All she does is write down everything. Glances at me and writes stuff down then types it on that computer of hers.

“I think we’re getting somewhere now.”

I’m so pissed I can’t even think straight, I can’t speak. I tried to stand up but that’s not good either. I do the only thing I can do: I cry.

“Dr. Summers?”

“Yes, Sean, you can take her back to her room now. If she needs it, give her something to relax her. We’ll see how she is in the morning, whether she can be returned to her regular breakfast schedule or if she needs more time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to get away, I want to go somewhere that doesn’t have Bitches, or memories. I want my life back. I want my daughter back – I know she’s not dead. They just won’t let me have her.


Other Stories: Sanity

It may be a little bit before I come up with the next chapter in this story. I’ve been reading a lot of blogs and articles and feel that I of course don’t know half the things I thought I did about this. So what started out as just basically fiction feels like it’s going to turn into something – more interesting. I hope.

All I ask is that you please bear with me while I find my muse for this story again.

As you know, I don’t like posting pics with actual people in it unless they’re pretty much famous or their drawings or anime or clip art. Today’s picture I thought was fairly appropriate and ironically not something I would have ever conceived. It’s from deadshirt.net and appears to be a section from the comic Ultimate Spider Man. For those who don’t know (like me) that is actually Gwen Stacy slapping Spider Man – although in this version his name is Miles Morales and not Peter Parker. Whoda thunk? According to the site (http://deadshirt.net/2013/06/21/ultimate-spider-man-the-slap-that-broke-the-spiders-back/), this is “From Ultimate Spider-Man v.2 #24, pencils by David Marquez”

He was sitting at one of the smaller tables, pushing around the food currently on his plate, but not eating when she walked in to join the lunch crowd. Her first reaction was of surprise. Three weeks after they discovered him, they were finally able to coax him out of his room.

“You God-damned, mother fucking, son of a bitch!”

He turned, not because he was curious about the scream, which started out like a low growl and ended in a semi-high-pitched yell, but because it sounded somewhat familiar.

He felt her open palm hit his cheek before he saw her.

She looked as bad as he felt.

Her blue eyes were fevered and red rimmed, like she had been crying. He gingerly touched his cheek as two of the orderlies, Jimmy and … Vince? He couldn’t remember the name, but they both came running at them. Behind them he saw one of the nurses on the phone and another, Valerie maybe, coming around the corner.

Everyone else, all the other patients, and there weren’t many, had moved away from them.

He felt someone grab his arms at the same time that Jimmy took hold of Val and pulled her away. She had been ready to hit him again and he would have let her. “No, no don’t hurt her.” He heard his voice croak and crack.

She sounded almost incoherent as she continued screaming at him. “You! You fucking …. You took her away from me! You took her! Where is she?”

He reached out his hand to her, only to have someone grab it and push it down. “Please, don’t hurt her, she’s…”

“Marcus move back!” He heard Dr. Thomas’ voice and saw him and another nurse come running. She was carrying a syringe, which meant one thing.

Marcus now struggled a bit against the arms that were holding him. “No! Don’t! She’s fine, she’s just upset!”

But she wasn’t and he knew it. She continued screaming, crying and clawing, trying to get back at him for … what? Taking her away? Who?

No, not who. What.

That thing he saw her with that night.


She continued crying when Dr. Thomas injected the sedative into her, but it still took both orderlies to restrain her.

“Marcus, c’mon, man! Back up, let it go, let’s go.” He heard Clyde next to him. Marcus trusted Clyde, he was one of the few he could talk to and the only one voluntarily who went for walks with him. Clyde knew all about his feelings for the now raving creature before him.

But she wasn’t raving anymore. She was on her knees, still crying but no longer screaming.

Jimmy and Vince were putting a restraint on her while Dr. Thomas and Dr. Summers, the one who Val affectionately called “The Bitch” supervised. Dr. Monisht and a couple of other nurses were working on getting the other patients out of there and back to whatever semblance of normal they had been in.

“Let’s get you back to your room, Marcus man.” Clyde said softly.

Marcus shook his head. “No, no not yet. I don’t want to hear the scratching.”

That set Val off again, but not as intense. Instead she wailed. “You have her! She doesn’t want me anymore, you took her from me! Give her back! Please, I … I need her! Please!”

She was wiggling around, her eyes stuck on Marcus as he was trying his hardest to not look at her. Clyde led him away, but Marcus still heard her voice.

They were outside the common room and heading back to Marcus’ room when he finally spoke.

“I don’t want her.” He said.

“Tell me ‘bout it, man. She a complete one-eighty right now.” Clyde responded, thinking Marcus was talking about Val.

“No, no not Val. Val’s … no I don’t want Krystal … I don’t … don’t take me back to the room Clyde, please.”

“Oh man, don’ be starting this shit again. You is one step away from them puttin’ you upstairs!”

“Krystal’s there.”

“Shit, this is Jan all over again.”

Marcus stopped, which caused Clyde to yank his arm, but he stopped too. “Jan? Jan saw Krystal too?”

“Look man, this ain’t the time and … man! Listen! You don’ need this shit. Ok? You just startin’ to come out of it, don’ go pulling this here Jan shit and git sent back. Remember, your sister’s weddin’s in three weeks.”

Marcus heard and nodded but he didn’t care. “Take me to the couch?”

“Val’s going to the couch right now.”

“Just, please, I can’t go back to my room.”

“Marcus, man don’ make me drug yo ass too.”

Other Stories: Sanity

So last week I failed to post on this story and I apologize for that. What I had I felt didn’t live up to what I had previously posted. I still don’t. But, something needs to be posted because this story is far from over.

Most of it I did today since I didn’t have a lot of time during the week.

The picture for today I thought would do well to be humorous, especially since I previously said I wouldn’t post anything that had real people in it. It’s from one of the articles from http://www.nhscouting.org

“I don’t see what his problem has to do with me. It’s not my fault he decided to spazz out.”

“What another patient talks about normally wouldn’t be anyone else’s business, but Marcus … well he repeatedly states that you were injured.”

“Listen isn’t there something else we can possibly talk about?”

I don’t know why she’s telling me that, it’s not going to change my opinion of things. We’ve been doing nothing but talk about that idiot Marcus this entire session and frankly I’m fucking tired of it now. It wasn’t so bad for the first 5 minutes … maybe even less than that. I mean he’s cute and all for being a fucktard, but these sessions aren’t supposed to be about anyone but … well … me … and maybe Krystal.

Wait. Maybe they’re trying to get to me, win my trust, or piss me off so I’ll start talking more about things that aren’t any of their business. Those bastards!

The Bitch is speaking now, but I’m only half paying attention. So he mentioned me. Huh, he mentioned me. Gah! Did he happen to mention that he wasn’t nice to me while trying to make like he was Casanova or something? Ha! Probably not. I signed a paper on it, they have to have it.

I guess I should at least be grateful that he’s not in here with us. I’m not sure how that would make me feel, but I’m going to guess not very good. I really don’t want to see him. I think I hate him.

I know I’ve always hated this room. No windows except for the front door, so no way to look out to escape from this interrogation. Unless I look out the front door, but that would put me right next to said Bitch and I really don’t feel like being that close to her.

“I think we’re done.” I think I’ve said that like twenty times. But it worked this time. There’s Jimmy, ready to take me to my room, or somewhere.

“How are you feeling today, Marcus?” Dr. Monisht asked as he walked through the front door of Marcus’ room. “Do you think today will be a good day to have a session outside?”


Dr. Monisht looked over and saw Marcus rocking back and forth and staring straight ahead to the wall opposite his bed. Bami stayed by the front door for only a minute, then walked over to a chair that sat by the bathroom door.

“Is there anything you’d like to discuss?”

Still nothing.

Since the day the nurse, Valerie if he remembered correctly, found him, he had been in a near-fetal position: legs bent, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs and holding them tight against him. The only difference between that day and today is position – he was no longer on the floor. They had somehow managed to convince him to move thus allowing them to clean him up. But he quickly got on the bed and resumed the same position. Nothing they had done would move him off.

They also had to cover the window – draw the shades and pull closed the curtains. He didn’t want to look out.

“I have some correspondence for you – from your family I believe.” He half stood off the chair and gently tossed the letters on the corner of the bed – right over others that he had been bringing to him for the past week.

So far, only Dr. Monisht, Clyde, Marcus’ probation officer and his friend Ray-Ray were the only people who could enter his room without setting him off on a tirade of science fiction rants.

Dr. Monisht wrote a few things on Marcus’ file attached to his clipboard. This wasn’t good. If they weren’t able to bring him back from wherever he currently was, he would have to be moved to the other section of the facility.

Bami sighed and wrote a few more things on the file. “You’ve been scheduled for physical therapy this afternoon, Marcus. I hope you’re well enough to join.”

Marcus stopped rocking for only a moment, but it was enough to give his doctor some hope that maybe he was reaching him. But when the athlete started up again, Dr. Monisht closed his eyes and shook his head.

He stood up and headed to the front door. “I will return again tomorrow, Marcus.”

“She’s ok, right Doc? She … she’s alive?”

Bami turned around quickly and looked at Marcus. His eyes were still clouded over and staring blankly at the wall but he had stopped rocking again. “Yes, Marcus. She’s perfectly fine.”

“This is unacceptable!” Dr. Thomas stated loudly as he slammed his hand on the table. “We need to find out what’s going on and no! The idea of our facility being haunted or cursed is not an option!”

The weekly staff meeting started this morning on a bad note and gradually disintegrated as time passed.

“Enriqueta Valencia, aka Val, and Marcus Williams – our celebrity. One of them showing symptoms of regression that had nothing to do with what he was admitted for! And the panic that occurred because the other was thought to have bled to death! Would someone care to tell me exactly what the hell is going on?”

The room was eerily quiet as the staff re-examined notes and fidgeted in their seats.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our board of directors will not stand for this. They threw a fit when that TMZ report came out. This, however, may very well shut us down – permanently. So flights of fancy regarding vampires, voodoo, ghosts and witchcraft, among other things … no! Someone has somehow gained access into our building and patient rooms – possible our patient files and caused a disturbance and we need to find out who, how and we need to shut it down. Now!”

“Were you able to get anything from Ms. Valencia, Claire?”

“I’m afraid not, Bami. After three minutes of discussing the incident, she closed off. The only good thing out of it is knowing she isn’t suffering from Hypovolemic shock.”

“So whatever Marcus saw was not blood loss. Menstrual?”

“No. Because of her admission status, she’s monitored, it’s not her time.”

“It is possible that his past substance abuse may have caused him to hallucinate…” Nurse Valerie started.

“That I am aware of he has been clean for almost eight months.” Dr. Monisht interrupted.

“Mebbe someone slipped him a Mickey.” Clyde offered.

“So you’re suggesting that a member of my staff is providing him substances that are offsetting his current treatment?” Dr. Thomas asked.

Clyde looked down. “Dr. Thomas, in all da years I am working here ain’t no one never had access to none of them drugs what don’t go through my staff. They are checked an’ double checked and don’t get no key until we is a hunnud per cent sure they are good. We have three people, me and Valerie evvy day and you once a month go over that drug inventory. Ain’t nothing added, ain’t nothing missin’. If he got something, it was from somewhere else.”

Sebastian smiled. “Thank you, Clyde. So somehow one or both of the other wings need to be monitored and anyone from the outside as well.” He took a deep breath. “Then starting immediately, provided the Board agrees, anyone moving between areas needs to be checked for unauthorized substances…”

Other Stories: Sanity

As promised, here is what I meant to post last week – severely tweaked but hopefully still enjoyable.

The picture for this week’s episode is from http://www.nationofchange.org from their article Fear of Terrorism is Making Us Crazy

Sometimes it’s good to be of celebrity status. Sometimes having a little bit of money lets you get away with doing things normal people can’t get away with. And then money can sometimes help you try to come to terms with certain things.

Marcus’ mind wandered amongst lots of things as he strolled the halls which he was allowed. His goal tonight was to figure out how best to not do the things that got him in here in the first place. True enough he was mostly self-committed, but that didn’t mean he had been in any less trouble.

It was either here or jail and he didn’t feel like going to jail. What he felt like right now was seeing Val. Yeah, he wasn’t supposed to.

He stood at the intersection of the halls that lead back to where he was allowed to walk and the hallway that led to her room on the other side of the building. Once again he turned right and walked away. Once again he cussed himself out.

Three weeks. He hadn’t seen her for three weeks. He had, however, met Jan. That had actually been an accident; being in the wrong place at the worst possible time.

He thought back on that day that he and Clyde were doing their regular rounds in his area of the complex when Vince ran up to them and pulled Clyde aside. Marcus couldn’t hear the conversation but he saw Clyde’s eyes widen for a split second before he looked at the athlete.

“Sorry, Marksman, we gots ta cut dis here short.” Was the only thing Clyde said as he ushered Marcus back to his room. Being in a hurry, he didn’t notice that he didn’t exactly close the door, so as soon as he was twenty paces away, Marcus exited his room and followed them…

…all the way up to the second floor stairs. The well maintained door wasn’t slow closing, but the men were making so much noise running upstairs that they didn’t hear Marcus running to and entering the stairwell behind them. He followed them at a respectable distance and then stayed at the door, holding it open enough to make sure he could hear or see what was going on.

There was a bit of a commotion coming from the second floor: loud voices almost screaming. He could hear Clyde and Vince, and the voices of others he didn’t recognize. Lastly, he heard a woman yelling, cursing, crying and screaming.

Marcus opened the door wider and peeked out to see what was going on. He saw a figure on the ground being restrained to the best of the orderlies’ abilities – even Clyde and Vince. Two other people, possibly nurses, were standing with syringes ready to sedate the person once the orderlies were able to keep her as still as safety permitted – they didn’t want to break needles or stick the wrong person.

Everything seemed to be getting better – or rather the restrained person was starting to wear down. And then the person looked up and saw him looking at the commotion. That started everything again.

Everything after that happened so fast, looking back Marcus found it hard to remember exactly how they pulled her hands off his throat. But he would always remember the gouges she left him across his face when her nails slammed against his cheek.

That was the day he was told you didn’t stare at or talk to Jan and you absolutely didn’t mention Val.

He grumbled. Everything he thought about was focusing on her. Frustrating. He was getting better at everything but that. He was purging himself – getting and staying clean and sober. He hadn’t wanted to drink or snort or shoot up or anything. He was only getting mad at himself; and since he wasn’t prone to violence off the field he was getting good marks on that too.

Oh damn it all to fucking hell that next thought better not creep up on him.

He started walking faster, his arms swinging forward and back as he moved. Think, think, think! Anything just not …

His mom and sister had been by to see him. Better. He managed to convince his sister not to postpone her wedding. He could get out in time if he towed the line and he was trying his hardest to. No fights, no rule breaking, no nothing bad.

No Val.

Damn it!

He clenched his fists and started punching the air in front of him. Wide swings, small jabs, upper cuts. Maybe he could beat himself up. But he was already doing that.


He turned right again. He lost track of how many times he had come upon the intersection and how many times he forced himself to turn right.

Maybe it would be better if he had company with him. Clyde’s constant rambling helped him not to think. Maybe he could go looking for one of the orderlies – it was Clyde’s day off but maybe he could talk one of the others to sub. Only thing is it would be on the other side of the building, which is where he was trying to avoid.

“You act like you’re in fucking love you damned bastard.”


No, it’s just infatuation. He didn’t know her, hadn’t interacted with her. She was something he couldn’t have so he wanted it. What did Doc tell him? Think of something else he wanted that wasn’t easily reachable, that was a challenge and let that replace her. That’s what he had to do. He could do it too. Right?


He stopped. That’s the second time he heard that voice and it wasn’t his.

When he looked around he saw he was where he wasn’t supposed to be. Shit! Time to go back.

He turned around and stopped.

There was another noise. Soft and breathy.

He smirked. He knew the sound of sex. No one was allowed that kind of relationship here, but someone was having fun.

Curiosity got the better of him so he turned around again and started following the noise. If the halls didn’t have such great acoustics he would have missed it, as quiet as it was.

He moved as quietly as he thought a mouse would, listening to the noise and getting overly aroused. Whoever it was wouldn’t mind him standing outside the door and having a little fun himself.

Except, it was her door.

His brown eyes instantly turned green and he wasn’t hot anymore.

What the fuck? He wasn’t allowed to touch her, to interact with her and someone was fucking her? Oh hell no! Marcus quietly went to the little window and as quietly as he could slid it open. What he saw made his blood freeze.

It wasn’t the fact that Val was lying on the bed. It wasn’t that her hands were grasping her sheets tightly in her fists as she moved and moaned. It wasn’t even the fact that she was about to cum that freaked him out.

Any other time watching two women get it on would have had him climaxing himself big time. He knew that the person between her legs was a woman – maybe that’s why she didn’t like his advances. The woman she was with was slender – at least from this angle she looked slender; feminine hands would occasionally brush her long darkish hair to the side as she worked her mouth.

No, what freaked him out, in the pale moonlight shining through the bigger window on the wall was the sight of a dark puddle near Val’s butt. What freaked him out was who was between her legs. No, not who, what.

Wait, no! That can’t be right.

Wrong or right, whatever it was lifted its head and licked lips that were as dark as the spot on the bed. Then it turned its head and looked over at him. Literally. It looked at him: later he would swear he saw … no, that couldn’t be right either. Could it?

It had … red glowing eyes?


He stepped back, slipped and fell down onto his butt when the … whatever it was … was suddenly at the door. He could hear it snarl just under the soft sound that would have sent his head … and probably his heart … reeling.

He got up as quick as he could and ran and kept running until he got to his room. The panic that wrapped itself around him made it hard to enter the room having forgotten Clyde’s instructions on how to work the lock. As soon as he entered he turned on all the lights, pulled the blankets off the bed and tossed them in one of the corners, then haphazardly pushed the bed up against the front door. Quickly and hurriedly making sure that the closet and bathroom doors were open and dark corners were bathed in light, he sat on the sheets and blankets while he stared wide-eyed at the main door.

He didn’t turn to look at anything else. Even when he thought he heard scratching at the window.

What the fuck?

He stayed where he was and when the morning nurse came in to wake him, once she and one of the orderlies was able to enter the room found him like that: still wide eyed-still looking at the door and rocking back and forth in shock.

Other Stories: Sanity

First and foremost, I want to apologize to all of you for posting this late. I’ll explain what happened – and it had nothing to do with school, my car or my life.

Well, not entirely.

I actually meant to post something completely different for this portion of my story-line but as I was reading it and re-reading it and letting it flow from my mind to my computer and ultimately to this blog site, it became clear to me that someone other than me would see how wrong the post would have been.

In no way do I want anyone to think that I’m making this into some far-fetched horror or sci-fi story. That isn’t what this is about. I have plenty of other stories on the side and posts here for that.

I wanted this to be as realistic as possible, which is ironic considering my current topic and state of mind as I write this. So I want to assure you that although my next post (which was supposed to be this one) may sound completely … well I’ve lost the word for it but I hope you get the gist of this. There are no ghosts, no vampires, no werewolves, no demons, no anything supernatural or paranormal aside from whatever the characters themselves manifest because of their conditions.

I will also apologize for the brevity of this post. I was hoping to have more than I do (I try to type up three Word pages per post) but this was all that would come out. Maybe it will tie in or maybe I will have to use another post to do that.

Today’s picture is from the Saint Louis Health, Detox, And Family Therapy Offices located at http://www.centreccare.com/about/OurFacility.aspx. I’m trying to refrain from posting pictures that contain people unless they are caricatures, clip art or drawing of fictitious persons.

I hope you enjoy.

The early Wednesday morning sun peeked sleepily over the horizon and found the scheduled ingress of nurses, orderlies, and doctors, each holding cups of coffee or other hot, caffeinated drink, some talking, but all trying to get ready for the weekly staff meeting.

Dr. Sebastian Thomas, head of Psychiatry at the facility, was already there, as was Maureen, his secretary. Dr. Thomas was seated at the ‘head’ of the conference table going over notes for last minute information he was going to give to his staff. Maureen was making sure everyone had the proper notes for today’s meeting along with making sure there were plenty of refreshments for everyone (including herself) and that all equipment was functioning properly.

Although there were no assigned seats and the conference table was round, each person sat in their usual spots and waited patiently for Dr. Thomas to begin the meeting.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you’ve had a good week so far. You’ll forgive our detour from our regular format, but I believe there are a few items of importance that we will need to address first – one in particular that has our Board of Directors very concerned.”

There was a soft murmuring through the staff as they each started reading over the agenda.

“It appears that our resident celebrity has garnered our facility a bit of … notoriety that has our legal team tearing out their hair. Would anyone like to comment?” He turned his attention first to Dr. Monisht then panned his eyes over the nurses and orderlies that were assigned to Marcus’ wing of the complex.

When no one spoke, he continued. “Somehow, this past week someone at our facility took it upon themselves to contact TMZ and talk to them about extremely confidential information. Now, I will admit that when our Board and legal team called me in to let me know about this, I had little to no idea what TMZ is, aside from overhearing bits and pieces of conversation from all of you and the other staff in the other sections. But, it has been all over the Internet that Marcus Williams is currently a patient and he was involved in an altercation with another patient here. Thankfully, the identity of that other patient was not divulged. Our legal department is currently in contact with this … media corporation to cease all disclosure of information regarding Mr. Williams and our facility as long as Mr. Williams is a patient here.”

“And you believe that someone in this room is responsible for their access to this information?” Dr. Monisht’s heavily accented voice asked.

“I believe someone in this facility is responsible, Bami. Rest assured the other departments will be going through this question and answer session at our regularly scheduled meetings. However, if we don’t find out who did this and why, our legal team will be doing one on one sessions with us in order to appease the Board.”

“I guess we should be thankful that Val wasn’t mentioned in this article. I don’t know how much exposure she has to TMZ or any other outside source, but this could add to her current regression.” Dr. Summers stated as she continued reading over the article.

“Unfortunately, Claire, I’m not thankful for anything. I haven’t had a chance to talk to Ms. Valencia as of late, exactly how much regression are we talking about?”

Dr. Summers opened up her own notebook and scanned over her observations. “We had been making a bit of progress, talking about her addiction to video games as a means of escapism. I thought it was a break-through and was going to start talking to her about her daughter at the next session.”

“I take it that didn’t happen?”

“No. She created this Krystal person as a means of hiding from the reality of her situation. Although it isn’t uncommon for those suffering from this type of addiction to use this type of defense, I’m at a loss because this name isn’t associated with any of the games we were told she had played. Also this name nor any variation of it is used in the game she was playing when her daughter died.”

“So she hadn’t been using this form of escapism long?”

“No. It only manifested … about a month ago.”

“That is around the time Mr. Williams arrived here.” Dr. Thomas stated. “Could it be that Enriquetta…?”


“I’m sorry, yes. Val. Maybe she created this to shield herself from Mr. Williams?” He turned to Dr. Monisht.

“I do not believe that could have occurred.”

“I agree.” Dr. Summers added. “Although our records show that Mr. Williams had been admitted around that same time, they had little to no knowledge of each other. No interaction.”

“Marcus’ schedule at that time would have prohibited even concurring lunch schedules. His first week with us included meetings with his attorney and probation officer.” Dr. Monisht concluded.

“We’ll return to possible treatments we can utilize for Ms. Valencia in a moment, Claire. We’ve gotten off-track of what this meeting is for today.”

Other Stories: Sanity

I originally wasn’t going to put a picture with this one, because I couldn’t think of one that would be good enough. But after going over future plans, I decided to just grab something. This one is from the Love, Chunibyo & Other Delusions Season 2, 2chu2koi, chuunikoi REN, kyoani spinners section of the Megatokyo Forums found at http://forums.megatokyo.com/index.php?showtopic=1738705&st=25

“So, tell me about Krystal.” She said to me as I sat across from her on the couch.

I don’t move. Don’t say one word. In fact, except for my breathing and blinking, I am still. I‘m trying not to think about her. I couldn’t, I can’t afford to. If I do, then they’ll see it, and she’d be able to get into my head again. I won’t let that happen.

I sit on the couch, stare at the floor. Eventually I will have to say something to her because if I don’t they’ll reschedule my other therapy time, put me in group sessions and force me to spill my guts.

I hate group therapy!

Oh my gods, just thinking about sitting with people is making me sick and she knows it. She’s using this to make me give up all my secrets again.

But I can’t talk about Krystal. I can’t think about her without crying. She hasn’t been in my life that long but still her name brings so much emotion it hurts. How can I describe that to anyone? How can anyone know the thrilling emptiness that courses through me when I hear her name, when I see her face? I haven’t felt this way since….


I can’t think about that either.

I won’t!

Finally, my voice makes its way to my mouth, and exits slowly, softly and with much reserve. “Why should I? You say she doesn’t exist.”

“Because you believe she does.”

I try so hard not to let my eyes tear up, but Krystal brings forth so much emotion from me it’s hard. I can feel my heart start to beat faster with every passing moment and I have to stop it.

Don’t think of her red flowing hair and how it falls, cascading down her face, touches her shoulders. How it feels between my fingers.

Don’t think of her voice that whispers bravery to me that talks of comfort. I can do no wrong she says and I believe it. She can take me out of here and I believe it.

Don’t think of her sparkling green eyes that hold all the joy in the world and how they burn whenever she looks at me.

Don’t think of her perfume that lingers in my room after she’s been gone … for days sometimes. The way it clings to my skin, wraps itself around me until I’m dizzy from it.

Don’t think about how precious she makes me feel, like holding a ….

Oh my gods! Stop!

I close my eyes, knowing the Bitch is watching me, waiting for me to betray Krystal again. It’s the reason why she hadn’t been by to see me. I know it is. Who else would have had the guts to narc on me?

“I don’t want to talk about her.” I can hear the break in my voice. It croaked first, then faded.

“It’s part of your therapy, Val.”

I can hear the Bitch’s words, they didn’t mean anything. I can hear Krystal’s voice; that means more. [“I want you, Val, but don’t say anything. I won’t come to you if you talk about me. Don’t betray me again.”]

So I started humming a song, I don’t remember which one, but I think it was one Krystal liked hearing.

“Does she still not trust me?” The Bitch is trying to bring me back, but I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave my bubble. It’s safer here than anywhere else I know – except in Krystal’s arms.

“Val, we were making such progress. I’d hate to report again that you’ve regressed.”

“I haven’t regressed.”

“You’re humming game music again, Val.”

Game music? What is she …?

It’s a rush that comes to me now and it takes my breath away for only a moment, but I’m sure The Bitch has noticed it. Colors and sounds, images of people except they’re not people. Places I have no idea the location of right now, but I can see flora and fauna everywhere. And in the midst of it I can hear crying.

I don’t know where that’s coming from. Maybe I have to look for it? I don’t know. Will Krystal help me this time? She’s taken me through so many levels already, it’s hard to keep track.

There’s a movement out of the corner of my eye that makes me gasp and when I turn my eyes in that direction I see … whoa! What did I just see? It went by so quickly, but I’m sure, I’m sure that it was …

“Val? Are you ok?”

I can hear her voice but it’s faint under the music. I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath. When I open them, I see the movement again, off by the other side of the couch. It’s really slight, but I know I saw a head pop up and look over at me. When I looked over at the Bitch, it’s like she’s there but not there, like it’s a picture of her or that she’s not real or not really there.

I am going crazy aren’t I? The crying is getting louder for a moment I’m not sure exactly what’s going on.

“I need to leave!” I blinked, startled by the sound of my own voice. I’m standing up now?

“It’s all right, Val, everything’s fine. The mountains are green.”

My eyes are wide, I can feel them as I sit up on the couch where I was lying down. My heart’s pounding and I can feel someone take a hold of my arms and lift me up to my feet. I don’t see that face anymore, I’m not sure what I’m seeing right now.

I think someone’s taking me back to my room.

Other Stories: Sanity

This story is constantly evolving. It’s still different than my other stories – please excuse what may look like misspellings. I was trying to go for dialect.

Again, please don’t read too much into this; I’m not trying to insult anyone, not trying to make fun of anyone. At one point in my life, I worked for a social services center that had an inpatient unit, so part of my writing comes from that experience. Unfortunately, a lot comes from movies.

Please note that there are some things that I will not write here although originally when the story came to me, those words came quite easily. I like to think I know better.

I want to acknowledge http://www.davidbakerphotography.com/ where I got the picture for this post. It’s of the St. Andrew Asylum – which I unfortunately know nothing about.

Enjoy – and don’t forget, please comment. This is new territory for me so I’d really like to know your thoughts. Thank you!

“I have been getting reports that you are leaving your room at night Marcus.” Dr. Bami Monisht said emotionlessly as he read through the file.

Marcus Williams, former sports superstar, was quiet for a moment as he tried to decipher some of Dr. Monisht’s words amidst his heavy accent. After a moment he shrugged. “I have trouble sleeping, Doc and that’s a good time for me to think – it’s quiet and no one bothers me. Besides, I’m used to it.” He grinned at that last part, but stopped when Dr. Monisht looked up at him.

The older man looked at Marcus through near Coke-bottle glasses, sized him up and down again and blinked. It irked Marcus at times that it appeared his assigned psychiatrist judged him. He had asked for a transfer, but all things considered he had little choice.

“It is against hospital policy, Marcus. There are safety issues ….”

“Doc, I’m a big guy, ain’t no one gonna mess with me.”

“…plus we are a small facility. We do not have the capability of obtaining proper people during working hours; having someone watching over you ….”

The language barrier must have something to do with it. His own therapist couldn’t be insulting him, could he? “I’m just walking, Doc, not doing anything else. It’s not hurting anyone.”

“Marcus, we have rules in place for a reason. You may feel perfectly safe, but we have other patients who do not have your ….” He waved his hand trying to come up with the right word.


“Stability. Do not forget Marcus, you may be self-committed for substance abuse but this is still a mental health facility first and foremost. Some of our patients jump at a whisper. We do not wish to lose what precious improvements we have struggled to obtain.”

Marcus sat silently on the couch and looked down, not sure how to respond to that. Was he seriously being scolded and talked down to? Was his condition considered less pressing than anyone else here?

“Please do not take what I say that your success is not important, but we have to follow guidelines set down that have been proven successful. The terms of your probation are clear; you have ….”

“Three years. Yeah.” He sighed and shifted on the couch. This was going to be a long sentence. He should have listened to Ray-Ray and let him drive that night.

“We are not heartless, Marcus.”

The man shrugged.

“How have you been doing?”

“Been clean for seven months now Doc.”

“Six months incarceration and three weeks here…”

Marcus sighed. “Yeah Doc.” Man this sucked.

“Let us try something out Marcus. We can try a probationary period – provided Dr. Thomas does not have objections. You can have a walking routine, but only on this part of the wing and only on this floor.”

“It’s not a very large wing Doc.”

“No, but this area houses the less … extreme patients.”

“So the other side of the building…?”

“Has more security to it. Our less violent, but more … unstable patients reside there.”

“And upstairs?”

“That is restricted.”

“Like the most dangerous ….”

“For now, Marcus, consider it restricted. You can follow Clyde on the nights he does his rounds. Right now, I believe he only is here ah two nights a week, but it could be a start?”

Marcus smiled, it wasn’t great but it was ‘a start’. “Clyde?”

“He is our head orderly.”

“Ok, Doc. Thanks.”

Dr. Monisht looked at his watch. “Well, we have a few more minutes. I see you have ….”

His conversation with his therapist weighed heavily on his mind. Not so much the therapy session, that was productive. It was the way Dr. Monisht made him feel, like he was an outcast because he wasn’t crazy. He had only made the mistake of snorting, driving and severely injuring someone.

So far, walking made Marcus feel better. He had made restitution with the victim and his family. They even publicly forgave him. But it still ate away at him. Walking and discussing the situation with Clyde did help, even if Clyde wasn’t a licensed therapist, or doctor.

Well, he couldn’t actually say he talked this out with Clyde. In reality, he said a couple of words and Clyde did most of the talking.

Marcus was grateful when Clyde stopped jabbering. He couldn’t believe that such a big guy could act like a teenage girl. But he was a sports fan, so yeah, it probably made sense. He shadowed Clyde when he went through his rounds in the wing Marcus had permission to be in and got some thinking in when Clyde wasn’t asking him questions.

Because he was behind schedule tonight, and not due to Marcus, Clyde allowed Marcus to follow the head orderly to the other end of the building.

There was nothing different about this, except maybe a few more barred windows and extreme quiet.

They passed door after door and Marcus watched Clyde check in on patients and mark on paper reports clipped to boards by the doors. Interesting job.

They passed another door, which wouldn’t have mattered much to Marcus, except Clyde didn’t look in on the person. As far as he knew, the facility was full up – at least they had told him he was lucky to get a room here.

“Not gonna check this one?”

Clyde turned and looked at him. “Huh? Naw man. No sound – she’s asleep or behavin’. It’s when she talks that worrisome.

Marcus walked up to the door, open the window and peeked in.


“Hey Clyde, is she listening to music?” Marcus asked when he found his voice.

Clyde looked over. “I thought you did’n want no distractions.”

Marcus smiled but didn’t say anything. He wanted to tell Clyde how much of a distraction he was but thought better of it.

“Guess you entitled to make y’own.” Clyde shrugged then looked at the door to the room Marcus was just looking into. “That’s Val’s room ain’t it?”

“I guess. I don’t know these people.” He nodded anyway and moved to one side when Clyde stepped over to look through the small window. He gazed at the woman sitting in the room. She was currently rocking rhythmically back and forth, her hands cupped over her ears as though holding headphones close to block out any other noise. Her eyes were wide open and staring blankly at the door, but it appeared she didn’t see anything.

“If she listenin’ to music, it’s from her memory. They don’t allow her kind access to that in their rooms.” He moved back and faced Marcus.

Marcus frowned. “Her kind.”

“Don’t mean nothing bad by it. Means her class – classification. She’s restricted from a lot of things. It’s to ‘prevent any attempts at harming themselves or us’ with cords and shit.”

“She doesn’t come across as the physical type, or with enough strength to hurt any of the orderlies.”

The orderly cleared his throat and rubbed the side of his neck. “You’d be surprised what she capable of. And with Jan … whoo! Now that’s bad.”

Marcus looked back at the door, then moved so he could see her. She was still sitting in the same place, same position, rocking to the beat of whatever song she could hear. “I don’t think she’d do anything bad.”

Clyde put a hand on Marcus’ shoulder, regaining his attention. He looked into the brown eyes of the young man and wondered. “Man, I am telling you this for y’own good. You are here for good an’ you’re an awesome player. They don’t encourage relationships between patients. She is bad news, man. Stay away from Val. Way I hear it, you making progress; don’t wanna see you lose all that. Ain’t nobody want you going down the same path Jan did.”


“Look man, I shouldn’t have said even that; you know, confidentiality and shit, I can’t actually talk about other patients, but man please, please, find another friend – or lover – or whatever else you trying to find while you’re in here. Leave this one to herself.”

Other Stories: Sanity

Yes, dear readers, I’m posting early, but I have a feeling it might be worth it. I revamped this entry a number of times, I hope it goes over well.

There’s a bit of a shock or a twist to it.

Surprisingly I was able to find a good picture for it, thanks to https://www.wattpad.com/20191929-hidden-prologue. There’s some good writing there you might want to check out too.

Please let me know what you think of this next section. Thanks!

“I’m not crazy! I know I’m not!”

Jan stops short and looks at me, rolls her eyes and then takes my hand in hers. “No Baby, you’re not crazy. But you are upset and I can’t have you this way.”

I’m shaking because I can’t believe what I just saw. Well no, that’s not entirely true. I can believe it, I just can’t believe that it happened in front of Jan and that she saw it and she’s as calm as if it never happened or it was something that just happens every day.

Only this type of shit doesn’t happen every day!

And it doesn’t happen to me! Does it? I don’t remember.

She puts her arm around my shoulders and squeezes; then she kisses my cheek and looks at me. I can’t tell if that’s concern or … I don’t know.

“Baby you’re gonna have to calm down.”

“But ….”

“Deep breath. Let it in. Let it out.”

I breathe in when she says and exhale when she says, but I’m still shaking.

“I know what will help. Let’s go back to ….”

“No! I … I don’t want to go back to your room.”

“Why not?” She starts massaging my shoulders and my neck and normally that would feel good. Then I feel her breathing by my ear. I’m just staring out into space, I still can’t believe it.

“Then let’s go back to your room.” She whispers to me right before she starts nibbling my ear; right before she takes my hand and pushes it against her hot center. I’m just staring, I’m still trembling, I’m still not believing my eyes.

“They won’t let me.” I breathe, yeah she’s starting to affect me. “Hell, if they knew I was in your room …”

“They won’t know unless you tell them, so c’mon!”

That time with Jan was eight weeks ago, when she came to me during lunch, took me to her room and told me her secret. Wait, no, I’m not so sure about the time. I guess it doesn’t matter.

I’m not crazy. I know what I saw. But now it doesn’t matter. Last time I saw Jan she still told me I’m not crazy. And she wouldn’t lie to me. I know she wouldn’t. She has no reason to. Well, not anymore. I think.

I’m not exactly sure how long Jan’s been here, but it’s been longer than anyone else has. I also don’t know why she’s here – but I never bothered to ask her and she never told me.

I haven’t seen Jan at all today though, but I’m not really worried Aside from me, she spends a lot of time isolated – so she won’t harm anyone else.

They tell me they put me in isolation so I won’t harm myself.

That sounds funny.

Wait … what is today? When was the last time I saw Jan?

Today I’m actually in the common room, standing by the window, staring at the glass. It looks like I’m looking outside but I’m not. I gave that up a long time ago, when they told me I probably wasn’t going to be leaving here.

I’ve been here for a long time. Not as long as Jan, but longer than anyone else.

Where is Jan?

I wonder if she’s still mad.

They don’t know why I stand here, but I don’t care. Personally, between me and you, I stand here because Krystal comes after she’s done doing what she does. She walks up behind me, puts her arms around me and lays her head on my back, then she listens to me breathe.

She loves me, I know she does, even if she never actually said it. I mean, she said she can’t live without me, so that’s the same thing, right?


I can’t understand why everyone else tells me that I’m not living right, when she tells me I am.

Someone walks past, I don’t know who it is, but it’s not Krystal so I guess I don’t really care.

The room is cold and no one else cares. Not like Jan does. Not like Krystal does. Why can’t everyone be like them?

Jan must be above them because she can come and see me whenever she wants to. Except when Krystal comes over, then Jan leaves me alone. Funny how she knows when that is.

Jan says she loves me, not like before, like a daughter and that she’ll talk to her family and her attorney, but she can’t get me out of here.


Most times I don’t want to leave, because I’m not sure Krystal will know where I’ve gone to if I leave, and I need Krystal in my life. She’s what keeps me going.

What did I do that they would lock me up in here? I don’t remember.

If it wasn’t for Jan I’d go insane! Then I’d really be crazy.

If it wasn’t for Krystal I’d kill myself. I don’t care if she never loves me, just her being with me is enough. Thank God she comes for me.

I can’t wait to be with her tonight.