HOME | DD

Description
It was dark. Very dark.
I opened my eyes: It was just as dark.
I sat bolt upright. Something moved. Maybe it was just air movement, but that rarely happened here. My room is 6 feet by 7 feet by 10 feet. This is where I live. A box. There is a single bed across the far side of the room with a thin sheet and blanket, which was currently wrapped around me. The walls are made of metal and stone so it was often cold. There is one wall, however, that looked onto the corridor. That wall is made of plastic. A thick plastic window that made me feel like an animal in a zoo.

Sometimes people in white overalls would come and look at me through the window. Sometimes they would come inside and give me my medication. I didn't like taking it, but apparently it would make me feel better. They never came in alone though. A group of six people would stop outside my room with a trolley. Like those the people on planes would push up and down. The trolley contained all the medication for the other women in this building. All of us had the same style room. All of us took the same style medication.

Once a day we would be allowed to leave our rooms and we would congrigate in the big hall at the centre of the building for a few hours. This was where we ate our daily meal. Some of the women refused to eat their's. The people in the overalls would come and take them into small rooms and force feed them using tubes that were fed all the way to their stomaches. I didn't want that to happen to me. I eat my food without complaining. Always.

When it is nice we were allowed to spend half and hour outside in the yard. There is a 20 foot fence around the square yard to stop people from wandering off. I remember one girl wandered off once. She climbed the fence and cut herself badly on the barbed wire on the top. She fell down the other side where the men with guns picked her up and dragged her away, kicking and screaming. I never saw her again.

I had been here for nearly a year, although I don't remember the first month or so. The Doctor told me I wouldn't stop screaming so they had to give me extra medication to make me sleep. I simply nodded when they told me this. I saw the Doctor once a week. She was very nice to me. She spoke softly and kindly. I liked her. She would ask me how I felt, what Id been thinking and how I was coping. I would answer the same every time.
"I'm fine, but a little cold."
"I'm much better, thank you. Do you know when I can go home?"
She would nod and take notes on her notebook in front of her. After these sessions I would return to my room and wait for the people in overalls to bring around the next dose of medication.

I didn't belong here.
Sometimes I spoke to the other people here.
A much older woman told me she had been here for over 20 years. She had lost count when it became apparent she would never be free of this place. She had forgotten, why she was in here anymore. She told me that if I ever got the chance to escape I should take it. They would medicate you until you became robotic, she said. You stop thinking for yourself and every action blurs into the next without a second thought. You don't realise what you're doing or even who you are anymore. You think everything is fine and dandy. You believe it is.
Another woman told me her brother had sexually abused her since she was a teenager. Once she was older and stronger she had poisoned him with ricin and let him suffer for 2 hours. While he died slowly, she had tortured him. She was happy when he died, and didn't regret what she did. However, she had been taken away within days and had never seen the outside of this place in over 4 years.
There was one girl who was 21 years old. She had been found in her flat with deep knife wounds to her wrists, after cutting her fiancee and his lover to pieces. She said he had had an affair with her best friend. She had caught them in the act. She had been here for the same time as me. We talked often. I found we had a lot in common.
I felt sorry for these people. I didnt think I was one of them.

Once I asked the Doctor why I was here. She just smiled sadly and told me I did a bad thing once. When I asked her what it was, she replied I should figure it out myself. I probably didn't remember what happened because I was still going through shock. It wouldn't be right if she told me before I was ready for it.
This confused me, but I left it at that.

I'd been having nightmares since I came here. Recently, they'd become worse, and more frequent. I would see myself, on my front porch with a long knife. I would advanced through the house, into the hallway and up the stairs. I would look up the stairs and here moaning coming from above. Being a curious character, I would climb the twelve steps to the landing. The moaning would get louder and louder. I would feel my stomache clench with anticipation. I didn't want to continue on, but I had no control over my feet, my body. I would bring the knife higher above my head, in a position that I would bring a bat back to hit a baseball. The soft carpet below my feet would mute my approach along the corridor. The door to the room at the end - my bedroom - would stand ajar. I would peer through the crack, no bigger than 2 inches. What I would see made me gasp with shock. It made me angry. It made me lose my mind for a second. (Just a second?). I would kick open the door to find my best friend sitting astride my fiancee! My friend would collapse forwards onto my fiancee's chest in exhaustion. It would be then that he would see me over her shoulder. It would be then that I would lose my edge and scream as loud as I possibly could. But it wasn't me. It couldn't be. The person who I was in my dream was mad! The person in my dream...

It was dark. Very dark.
I opened my eyes: It was just as dark.

Description
It was dark. Very dark.
I opened my eyes: It was just as dark.
I sat bolt upright. Something moved. Maybe it was just air movement, but that rarely happened here. My room is 6 feet by 7 feet by 10 feet. This is where I live. A box. There is a single bed across the far side of the room with a thin sheet and blanket, which was currently wrapped around me. The walls are made of metal and stone so it was often cold. There is one wall, however, that looked onto the corridor. That wall is made of plastic. A thick plastic window that made me feel like an animal in a zoo.

Sometimes people in white overalls would come and look at me through the window. Sometimes they would come inside and give me my medication. I didn't like taking it, but apparently it would make me feel better. They never came in alone though. A group of six people would stop outside my room with a trolley. Like those the people on planes would push up and down. The trolley contained all the medication for the other women in this building. All of us had the same style room. All of us took the same style medication.

Once a day we would be allowed to leave our rooms and we would congrigate in the big hall at the centre of the building for a few hours. This was where we ate our daily meal. Some of the women refused to eat their's. The people in the overalls would come and take them into small rooms and force feed them using tubes that were fed all the way to their stomaches. I didn't want that to happen to me. I eat my food without complaining. Always.

When it is nice we were allowed to spend half and hour outside in the yard. There is a 20 foot fence around the square yard to stop people from wandering off. I remember one girl wandered off once. She climbed the fence and cut herself badly on the barbed wire on the top. She fell down the other side where the men with guns picked her up and dragged her away, kicking and screaming. I never saw her again.

I had been here for nearly a year, although I don't remember the first month or so. The Doctor told me I wouldn't stop screaming so they had to give me extra medication to make me sleep. I simply nodded when they told me this. I saw the Doctor once a week. She was very nice to me. She spoke softly and kindly. I liked her. She would ask me how I felt, what Id been thinking and how I was coping. I would answer the same every time.
"I'm fine, but a little cold."
"I'm much better, thank you. Do you know when I can go home?"
She would nod and take notes on her notebook in front of her. After these sessions I would return to my room and wait for the people in overalls to bring around the next dose of medication.

I didn't belong here.
Sometimes I spoke to the other people here.
A much older woman told me she had been here for over 20 years. She had lost count when it became apparent she would never be free of this place. She had forgotten, why she was in here anymore. She told me that if I ever got the chance to escape I should take it. They would medicate you until you became robotic, she said. You stop thinking for yourself and every action blurs into the next without a second thought. You don't realise what you're doing or even who you are anymore. You think everything is fine and dandy. You believe it is.
Another woman told me her brother had sexually abused her since she was a teenager. Once she was older and stronger she had poisoned him with ricin and let him suffer for 2 hours. While he died slowly, she had tortured him. She was happy when he died, and didn't regret what she did. However, she had been taken away within days and had never seen the outside of this place in over 4 years.
There was one girl who was 21 years old. She had been found in her flat with deep knife wounds to her wrists, after cutting her fiancee and his lover to pieces. She said he had had an affair with her best friend. She had caught them in the act. She had been here for the same time as me. We talked often. I found we had a lot in common.
I felt sorry for these people. I didnt think I was one of them.

Once I asked the Doctor why I was here. She just smiled sadly and told me I did a bad thing once. When I asked her what it was, she replied I should figure it out myself. I probably didn't remember what happened because I was still going through shock. It wouldn't be right if she told me before I was ready for it.
This confused me, but I left it at that.

I'd been having nightmares since I came here. Recently, they'd become worse, and more frequent. I would see myself, on my front porch with a long knife. I would advanced through the house, into the hallway and up the stairs. I would look up the stairs and here moaning coming from above. Being a curious character, I would climb the twelve steps to the landing. The moaning would get louder and louder. I would feel my stomache clench with anticipation. I didn't want to continue on, but I had no control over my feet, my body. I would bring the knife higher above my head, in a position that I would bring a bat back to hit a baseball. The soft carpet below my feet would mute my approach along the corridor. The door to the room at the end - my bedroom - would stand ajar. I would peer through the crack, no bigger than 2 inches. What I would see made me gasp with shock. It made me angry. It made me lose my mind for a second. (Just a second?). I would kick open the door to find my best friend sitting astride my fiancee! My friend would collapse forwards onto my fiancee's chest in exhaustion. It would be then that he would see me over her shoulder. It would be then that I would lose my edge and scream as loud as I possibly could. But it wasn't me. It couldn't be. The person who I was in my dream was mad! The person in my dream...

It was dark. Very dark.
I opened my eyes: It was just as dark.