I’m not crazy by any means, nor insane, along with any other term to describe mentally unstable. After humiliating some other students at my elite boarding school my parents used their influence and various connections to get me stuck in a facility for mad people. The only reason I did it was because I was bored; just another school away from home, the home that I can barely recollect if I really strain myself.

My old nurse was promoted so now I have to deal with a new guy that hasn’t done this job before. Not that I really need the help, I mean, I’m not even supposed to be here. The wing that I live in is connected to the rest of the hospital, but the only other sane people here are care providers and the occasional visitor. It’s just like the school I was at; purposeless. I never even had real classes there. All I had to do was fill out forms once in a while, and after doing the same slip a few dozen times I was ready for something exciting.

My new caregiver is very pale, as if he’s never seen the sun before. His medium length raven hair is unlike any natural shade that I’ve ever seen. Ordinarily dark haired people have variations of color in their hair, yet his is pure darkness. He never answers any of my personal questions, so I don’t even know his name. The rest of the staff wears name tags so the crazy can address them, but somehow he has managed to get around that rule.

Each morning without fail he arrives at exactly 7:30 to help me get dressed. Again, I don’t need it, but I figure that there’s no harm in it. Each caregiver is responsible for cooking any food their patients want in between meals because they can’t afford to pay the cooks to stay all day.

The first few times he made things for me they tasted like the terribly generic stuff they serve in the cafeteria, but after that the snacks became incredibly intricate. It’s gotten to the point where I go to the cafeteria, look around, then return to my room. I know that if I wait long enough he’ll come ask me if I want something.

I’m probably his least favorite patient because of the excessive service I demand of him. Once I figured out how creepily good he was at everything I’ve been using him as my own personal servant. Each staff member has at least four different people they have to attend to, and it seems like he’s always with me. It’s impossible that he’s spending time with other people, but that’s not my problem.

But even with the special service I’m tired of living in the cage; I want to get out and see the world. My entire life I’ve been cooped up in various jails that occasionally change their external form. It’s time to change things for the better.

Mysterious Fire at the Cheshunt Fernstream Mental Institution
This Wednesday there was a fire at the asylum just outside of town. From damage done it appears to have been started from the inside. It is assumed that one of the patients started the fire, perhaps by accident, and if not their motives are unknown. The flames destroyed everything and at the moment there are no known survivors. Mr. Phillips, the father of one of the patients, has commented that he hopes that his son enjoyed life. He had numerous stays at different branches of the Fernstream organization.