Cycle 1

Joshua is released from Monte Peak Asylum.

An earsplitting scream erupted through the white halls. Sitting huddled in the corner, my hands claw at my ears searching for silent solace. I start rocking back and forth then. Hot tears slide down my cheeks and my heart races, turning each breath ragged. My eyes squeezed shut, I begin to mutter subconsciously in attempt to ease my nerves. “Four o’ one, four o’ one, four o’ one…” The siren continued howling for what seemed like an eternity. “Four o’ two, four o’ two, four o’ two…” Just before I snapped, the scream halted abruptly, echoes bouncing off the walls for only a brief second. I stayed in my position, no longer shaking, slowing my heart down, “Four o’ five...four o’ five…….four o’ five………………..” I released the breath I had been holding in, collapsing against the wall beside me. It was welcoming, comforting, the white wall in my white room at the end for the white hall. My heavy eyes fell sleepily; hearing the daily four o’clock alarm toll always tired me mentally. I hugged my knees to my chest and allowed my eyes to slip close. The kaleidoscope of my eyelids faded away, consumed by darkness. Soon, the darkness had taken hold of my entirety and relaxed my tense muscles. I could no longer feel, and I simply released my soul to drift away in a clouded, dreamy void.

CREEAAAAAK

I twitched from my near-sleeping state to hear the door to my prison open. What could it be this time? Another test? Taking me away for a CAT scan? The police? The investigators? ...The victims? I heard talking behind the steel door as it slowly, painfully, permitted their entry into my cell. Who was it? Who was it...who was it? Who was it who was it who was it who was it? No, I don’t want you to be here. Go...go away!! Why? Why did I do it?! Why? Why?! Why why why why whywhywhy-

“Mr. Lancaster?” Two tall men in brown trench coats called to me, fixated with vicious glares. Tears brimmed my lashes and I could do nothing"merely stare. I gazed upon the two tall men, too frightened to reply. What now...what were they going to do to me this time? “Mr. Lancaster!” The one with thick eyebrows shouted gruffly.

Still terrified, my constricted vocal chords called out, “Y...yes?”

The man breathed a deep, heavy sigh, “...You’re free to go.”

The feeling within my chest at that moment...I believe my heart stopped beating, “Wh...what?” I breathed.

Bushy Brows sighed again, though less heavily, “We’ve been going back through the evidence. It wasn’t you, we know that now…” He cleared his throat uncomfortably, “We think we’ve found the real criminal. You...you’re free to go. There’s no need to keep you here any longer.”

My counselor rushed out from behind them clapping her hands in quick, short beats, a bright grin plastered on her face, “Aren’t you excited? You’re free to go now! You’re free of charges! You’re free!”

I couldn’t reply. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t feel, couldn’t think. I was free. Free of my cushioned, of my mental shackles. I...I was free. My counselor ran to me a touch panicked. I was aware my ace held an empty, blank stare, however I was unsure how long I remained that way. She began to call my name and shake me by the shoulders gently. The world before me became white. A solid white which consumed all reason. Before I knew it, numerous footsteps stomped beneath the echoes of my name. It took me approximately three more minutes to shake myself of my trance. The police officers coaxed me into a slow walk to the door. A wave of dizziness passed over me, then disappeared. Outside my door, a thunder of applause awaited me. The doctors, the nurses, the judge, the lawyer, even those who condemned me in court.

I was guided through the endless white hall until we reached the main building, in what common people referred to as the “edge” of the asylum. From there, I was taken to the lobby, then the front desk to sign my papers for discharge. People...so many people. Tall, short, skinny, fat. Light, dark, tan. Mixed people of various ages in light blue outfits. I peered down at my hand before I raised it to sign the papers. Oh, that’s right. I forgot. I brought up my hand and signed sloppily. I’ve forgotten how to write properly.

“Alright, you’re good to go. Thank you Mr. Lancaster!”  A girl in her early twenties beamed. I attempted to flash a small smile, but she ended up looking upon me with scorn and disgust. Unaware of what to do next, I meandered towards the front door, but a hand latched onto my shoulder. The asylum staff worked together to undo my straitjacket. I guess I couldn’t leave with it on, right? I never really remember that I have it on, I don’t think I ever really needed to be bound. No, there was a time. When I first entered the asylum, soon after I committed my...no, was framed for “my” crime. I was mad then, the type of madness that consumed the self whole, the type of madness that left you howling and cracking your skull on the wall. But I pushed that away. The counselors were arrogant; it wasn’t their sessions that “cured” me of my “ailment”, it was I. I had realized that I had much more freedom if I didn’t have a fit that day, so I forced away any sort of madness that crept into my mind. It worked eventually, but it hurt, like a demon clawing at my throat, pulling itself up into my brain. This often brought tears to my eyes, and my counselor began to worry that I was beginning to overwork myself, overstress, or that I was growing lonely. Nevertheless, I was locked within my prison routinely.

“Mr. Lancaster?” I turned to an officer at my side. He stared at me curiously, and the staff took away my jacket from the corner of my eye.

I looked him up and down, then replied in a near whisper, “Th...thank you…” He motioned me towards the door and we both exited.

Oh God, the light! The sunlight was blinding, so much so the officer had to aid me to his car. I had forgotten what sunlight looked like, how it illuminated. It was beautiful. Once inside the patrol car, I resisted the urge to stare directly into the sun, not wanting to blind my eyes from the beauty of the natural world. So many colors filled my white world: greens, pinks, reds, yellows, blues. I had forgotten...forgotten what flowers looked like. I wanted to ask my driver to stop so I could go and see the flowers, pluck them and smell them, but I did not.

After another two hours, we arrived at the front steps of a run-down apartment. He parked the car, “And this is your stop.” He looked at me and I looked at the building, half in wonder of its colors and enormity, half in curiosity of what to do next. “Do you remember your room number?” Confusion took hold of my expression. “Number 127.”

“Th...thanks…” I nodded and stepped outside the vehicle.

“Oh, by the way! While we were searching for evidence in your room, we sorta ransacked the place, so, sorry in advance that it’s a mess. If you need help cleaning up, just give us a call.”

“Thanks…” We exchanged waves as he drove away.

Free...free...I was free. Resisting the urge to break into spontaneous dance, I slowly entered the building.

Inside, there was a counter to the right, and two hallways a few yards ahead leading forward and to the right behind the counter. I was planning to follow the various signs posted about to my room, though hardly readable, but a shrill voice stopped me at the hallway entrance. “Excuse me sir, do you have a reservation?” I turned to a beaming smile and short brown curls. I hesitated for a moment. I had a room...didn’t I? “Are you alright, sir?” I suppose the confusion and slight terror in my eyes incited her to call to me.

“Yes...I-...” I slowly walked to the counter, “I’m looking for room 127.”

“127? Okay!” She left briefly to the far wall, lines with hooks and tagged keys. She hesitated, then walked back to me, “I’m sorry, I guess the tenants aren’t out yet! You can try knocking on the door to see if they’re here or not.”

“Y...yes…” I headed in my previous direction and counted the numbers. 110...111...112… I passed by rotted wooden doors with shoddy paint over them. The number plates were well worn off, but still readable. 117...118...119… The ceiling above was heavily damaged from age and what looked to be a flood that happened on the second floor. 120...121...122… The tiles...if you could even refer to them as such anymore, were crumbled to the point that they were reminiscent of the interior of a children’s playground. I felt more that I was hiking rather than walking. 125...126...Oh? My feet came to a dead halt and I turned my body to the entrance of room 127. Along with torn police tape, there was a battered key taped to door, a large yellow post-it note below it. I pulled them both off the door and inserted the key into the lock.

I kept to the room for you.

Turning the key, I pushed the door open and entered, closing it behind me quietly.

I came face to space with a completely clean room. A vacuumed carpet, the bed was made, everything was in place, everything was tidy. Didn’t the officer say that they ransacked the room? But, the note on the door...who has been staying here? I must know them if they’ve been watching the place for me. I decided to lock the door, and I did so quickly. Without the room key, they won’t be able to sneak into my room, so everything will be fine….

Tensing my shoulders, I breathed a deep sight, then let gravity drop them into a slouch I drug my feet across the soft carpet to my bed and threw my heavy body into a soft comforter. I stayed in that uncomfortable position for an hour and a half, the thought of being free still racing through my mind. What was next? I spent so long in that asylum, I don’t remember how to lie anymore. What do “normal” people do on a daily basis? I rolled off the bed onto my feet, eyeing a newspaper on the coffee table. Before I ever touched it, the headline sent a strange, warming chill down my spine. Culprit found, victim released from Asylum. It was comforting, but unnerving. I couldn’t pinpoint why.

Flipping around the pages of the paper, I learned of current events and what was going on in the U.S. around the time of my release. Escaped convict, school shooting, political wars. At least nothing changed while I was gone, otherwise I’d feel so left out. Eventually, I cam across a small table in the corner of the fifth page. Job listings.

A job. That’s right, I need a job to stay here, and to eat, right? I peered through the list and found one to a convenience store I remember passing by on the way here. It was fairly close, so I could walk from here just fine. Although, I wonder if they’d let me work there considering...well, maybe they’ll understand my situation.

Folding up the paper and returning it to the table, I began to head out, then stopped when I saw myself in the bathroom mirror. Unclean, unkempt, and still in the patient’s uniform. That wouldn’t do for a job interview. I headed into the bathroom and flicked the lights on, opening the drawers and cabinet to find a comb and toothbrush. Finding them all empty, I looked on top of the toilet. There was a small basket with a peach ribbon and another note.

The old ones were gross, so I bought new ones.

Inside the basket were basic care items, and, after thanking whatever specter for watching over me, I removed the toothbrush and paste and brushed my teeth vigorously. Once  felt they were clean, I whipped out the comb and tamed my beastly, feathery hair. Twenty minutes later, though still messy, my stark black hair was finally in a presentable style I favored. My emerald eyes stared back at me, and once it began to creep me out, I left the bathroom and headed to what looked like a closet. I opened it gingerly, as it looked even more beaten and worn than my current clothing. There was a single outfit hung on a steel bar, spotless and ironed. And, though I suppose I should have expected it, yet another note was left, stuck to the garment bag that held the clothing.

I thought you’d need this. I washed it for you~

The ensemble consisted of black dress pants and a collared white shirt with a red vest and tie. Black tennis shoes stood below that, inviting me to step into them. Once in the outfit, I felt a bit strange. Something about the clothing style bothered me, but nonetheless, I headed for the store, being sure to lock the door on my way out.

The entry chime was welcoming to my ears, and I could hardly contain my excitement for beginning my new life. I found what looked like an employee and asked him where the manager was. He said nothing for the longest time, just staring at me in confusion and wonder. I guess he read the paper...how do I begin to explain myself? Before I could utter a word, he forced out, “In the back.” Concerned about him, I hesitated, but decided that leaving would be the best course of action, so I bowed in thanks and headed that way.

A man in his late fifties with a “manager” pin stomped over to me. “Where have you been?” He roared.

I flinched back, confused and slightly terrified, “E...excuse me?”

“You’re lucky I didn’t replace you. Get back to work.” He threw an apron at me and scurried off in a hurry. Only after he left did I realize, save the apron, I was already in uniform for the job. And he said “back to work.” Did I work here before being thrown in the asylum? That was the only plausible reason. I looked at the apron in my hands carefully, then tied it around my waist.

“Joshua, help me unload these boxes!” A man my age called to me.

“Coming!” I raced over to him, eager to help. Between the two of us, we quickly and easily unpacked each box.

“Suddenly, I heard sniffing arise, “...Dude, what’s with the perfume?”

“Huh?” I turned to him, utterly confused.

He motioned towards me, “You smell like perfume.” He took a moment of silence, then shot me a cheeky grin, “Ah, get a notch on that belt last night?”

My head tilted to the side, “Huh? I...wait, what?! No!!” My face flushed and I turned away from him. He just laughed at me. “I think it’s my laundry detergent.” I didn’t lie, but I didn’t tell the truth either, considering I wasn’t the one that washed it.

He eyed me suspiciously, “You should fix that, then.” He chuckled, “You smell like a girl.”

“Shut up, I do not!” I pushed him and we broke into a fit of laughter. It felt good...like I was meant to be here. I feel like I fit in. It made me...happy.

“Excuse me!” A small voice broke through our laughter. We stopped abruptly and turned our heads to a young woman standing behind us. She held a big smile on her face, her sandy peach hair in a spiked, boyish style and the back tied into a rattail. “Can you help me? I’m looking for something.” She had her hands behind her back.

I felt an elbow nudge into my ribs, “Go on, man. You’ve been single forever, it’s time to start getting your groove on!”

“Sh-shut up!” I whispered, “She’s a customer!”

“Gotta start somewhere!” He laughed, pushing me towards her.

She giggled, “Am I...interrupting something?” Her body tilted to the side and her grin grew mischievous, telling me she had overheard the conversation.

“Ah...er...not at all, ma’am! What were you looking for?” I rubbed the back of my neck, embarrassed by my coworker's shenanigans.

She giggled again, raising her shoulders slightly, “I’m looking for tools. Screwdrivers, to be exact.” I had to admit, she did look pretty cute…

Wait. What? “Um...screwdrivers?” I wasn’t one to judge, but I expected something along the lines of feminine care or makeup.

“It’s for a project.” She chuckled, “What? Did you expect me to say feminine care or makeup? That a bit stereotypical, you know.”

I blushed, “R...right.” With my eyes to my feet, I headed towards the tools, “Th-this way, ma’am…” I heard laughing behind me, both from my coworker and from her.

We arrived to the tools, and the woman quickly picked out what she needed. “This is it! Thank you so much!” She smiled at me, and my face lit up again. Maybe I did need somebody with me. It’d certainly be fun to tell them about all the crazy things that happen to me in one day, and it’d be even better to do crazy things with them…

“Joshua!” My coworker called, “Escort the nice lady to the register!”

“Oh, uh, got it!” I scurried up to the front of the store to check the woman out so she could leave. Wait...register...cash register...how did this thing work again?

I jumped out of my skin when I felt a warm breath on my neck, “You press this button and enter the amount, then put in the money, give the change, and you’re home free.” He whispered into my ear.

“Gah, shut up, Daniel!” I waved my arms at him to back him off. Wait...Daniel? I took a moment to look at him. Red hair, green eyes, freckles...yeah. That was definitely Daniel.

Hold on. Why was I doubting myself? Of course that’s Daniel, we’ve been working together for four years. How could I forget…

“Hellooo?” The lady said, snapping me from my trance.

“Uh...oh! Right.” I rang her up and gave her the change.

“So uh…” she started, halfway towards the entrance, “Are you two...y’know...doing the guy-on-guy thing?”

Behind me, Daniel began to crack up, but my face flushed, “Absolutely not!” Suddenly, I started to doubt that she really had heard our conversation from before.

“Mm...just making sure.” She gave me a suspicious smirk before taking her leave.

I stared after her, curious what went through her mind, when Daniel threw his arms around me and whispered in my ear again, “And then you slip the dollar in-”

“Wah, cut that out!” I flailed to escape his grasp, then decided that I’d need to stop by the aisle with deodorant before I went home. Musk...yeah, musk is manly….

Wow...although fairly awkward, I still had a great day at work. It felt just like old times. And the walk back to my apartment was nice, with the cool night air blowing through my hair. It was all nice until I got home. Soon after I entered the apartment room, I found the newspaper on the table and remembered, oh right, you used to be a psychopath.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I really wish that had never happened. Even if I wasn’t the mastermind of that crime, people will still know me as the guy that went nuts in the asylum. How was I supposed to live like normal again? Maybe Daniel and the manager and everyone else will help me out. And maybe I’ll find a nice girl that can accept my previous state of insanity. Maybe...hopefully….

Tossing those thoughts aside, I stripped down for a shower. And when I stepped inside the tub, I was in pure ecstasy. Yeah, they bathed me while I stayed at Monte Peak, but it was nothing compared to this Freedom Shower. Aligning the shower head so the water hit my back, I leaned against the cold wall and took in a deep breath. The water was so warm, and I was finally bathing alone. A smile broke out on my face, and I remained unmoving for another twenty minutes or so, at least, that’s what it felt like. I grabbed the soap and the washcloth from the basket still on the toilet and scrubbed myself down. Even cleaning myself felt good. Something about being clean just feels nice...y’know? I checked in the woven twine once again; even hair care was in it. Man, this specter thought of everything.

Once I had finished, I brushed my teeth and sat on my bed in only a towel. Recalling the day once more, I peered around the room. It was...lonely. I was so thrilled to be around people once more and to start back my normal life, leaving those people was somehow very lonely. You’d think I would value my loneliness, surrounded no longer by sanitarium staff….

I stood suddenly. I’m not sure what had possessed my mind to do so, but I did. I stood up and walked towards the door and opened it, though clothed with only a towel. Opening the door without a second thought, I found yet another note on the door.

I won’t be back until morning. Sweet dreams~

I tore the note off, throwing it into the trash then slamming my door and locking it with haste. Okay, it was nice at first, but now it’s freaking me out. Is someone...stalking me? At the very least, it’s obvious that I’m not the insane one in this situation. I hadn’t noticed that my heart started racing in fear. Clutching my chest, I started to make my way back to my bed, when the newspaper caught my eye again. That infernal headline. Frustrated, I tore the paper into shreds and flushed them all down the toilet. That was the end. I know, I know all too well who I am and what I went through, I don’t need this constant reminder. And now...now I will forget. Unless I need to remember, I will forget everything that happened at Monte Peak.

With weary legs, I drug myself to bed, not caring I was still in a towel and not pajamas. I needed to rest my mind, I needed enough sleep to start the day fresh tomorrow. Forget it, forget everything. Have good dreams. Goodnight, me….

Author's Note

I understand that there are a lot of inconsistencies and weird things going on, but I promise it will make more sense by the end of the story.

And, this may sound like a sappy excuse, but this is not at all edited, so if you see something you want to bring to my attention, let me know. It may or may not be something that will be explained later in the story, so go ahead and tell me.