Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Asylum
White.
It's everywhere. White walls. White floors. White ceiling. White bed. Even white clothing.
White. Everywhere. A never-ending canvas of white.
And not the nice white. Not the comfortable white of snow in the winter. Not the creamy white of milk. Not even the gentle white of a cloud.
No, this white is a harsh, sterile white. The kind of white that is just so unnatural that it almost hurts to see. It's also the white of hospitals. Which is exactly why it is such an awful colour. A colour that brings back memories of standing by the sickbed of a loved one who never came home. Memories of pain. Memories of being the one in the hospital. Being the one in pain.
Pain is bad.
Hospitals are full of pain.
Henceforth, hospitals are bad.
Suddenly the wall opens.
No, not the wall.. A door. A door designed to look like the wall surrounding it.
There are three shadows in the doorway. Two are tall and big, and the other is shorter. The two tall shadows step into the room.
My room.
I try to push myself farther into the corner of the room where I'm already curled up in a ball.
They can still see me. They are going to make me leave.
But this is my room.
As the two larger shadows near, I bury my head under my arms and press myself as far into the corner as I can go.
"Hey Frank... It's okay.. It's us"
One of them coos.
That's what they always say. They tell me it's okay one minute and the next are loading up their shotguns to kill me.
"W-who are you?" my voice comes out hoarse, and why shouldn't it? I haven't used it in... A month? More? I didn't know anymore. I've stopped scratching marks in the wall a long time ago. I don't even know what year it is.
"Mike and Kurt. Remember us?" one murmurs softly.
I remember. Mike and Kurt are part of the staff.
But what if they're lying?
What if it's not them?
A hand gently touches my shoulder and I scream. I scream as loud as I can manage and attempt to move away from them.
"NO!! GO AWAY!! LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Another hand grabs my right arm.
I snap my head up and try to bite whatever it is that's trying to take me away from my room.
My arms are restrained in the ugly white jacket, so I'm forced to fight the unrelenting attackers back with my feet and head only. I kick and scream and try to escape, but I can't. The vice-like grip on my arms just keeps tightening more and more as they strain to keep their hold on me. I struggle with all the force I can muster, screaming and kicking, until I feel the unmistakable prick of a needle enter the back of my neck, and soon the world turns black.
It's everywhere. White walls. White floors. White ceiling. White bed. Even white clothing.
White. Everywhere. A never-ending canvas of white.
And not the nice white. Not the comfortable white of snow in the winter. Not the creamy white of milk. Not even the gentle white of a cloud.
No, this white is a harsh, sterile white. The kind of white that is just so unnatural that it almost hurts to see. It's also the white of hospitals. Which is exactly why it is such an awful colour. A colour that brings back memories of standing by the sickbed of a loved one who never came home. Memories of pain. Memories of being the one in the hospital. Being the one in pain.
Pain is bad.
Hospitals are full of pain.
Henceforth, hospitals are bad.
Suddenly the wall opens.
No, not the wall.. A door. A door designed to look like the wall surrounding it.
There are three shadows in the doorway. Two are tall and big, and the other is shorter. The two tall shadows step into the room.
My room.
I try to push myself farther into the corner of the room where I'm already curled up in a ball.
They can still see me. They are going to make me leave.
But this is my room.
As the two larger shadows near, I bury my head under my arms and press myself as far into the corner as I can go.
"Hey Frank... It's okay.. It's us"
One of them coos.
That's what they always say. They tell me it's okay one minute and the next are loading up their shotguns to kill me.
"W-who are you?" my voice comes out hoarse, and why shouldn't it? I haven't used it in... A month? More? I didn't know anymore. I've stopped scratching marks in the wall a long time ago. I don't even know what year it is.
"Mike and Kurt. Remember us?" one murmurs softly.
I remember. Mike and Kurt are part of the staff.
But what if they're lying?
What if it's not them?
A hand gently touches my shoulder and I scream. I scream as loud as I can manage and attempt to move away from them.
"NO!! GO AWAY!! LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Another hand grabs my right arm.
I snap my head up and try to bite whatever it is that's trying to take me away from my room.
My arms are restrained in the ugly white jacket, so I'm forced to fight the unrelenting attackers back with my feet and head only. I kick and scream and try to escape, but I can't. The vice-like grip on my arms just keeps tightening more and more as they strain to keep their hold on me. I struggle with all the force I can muster, screaming and kicking, until I feel the unmistakable prick of a needle enter the back of my neck, and soon the world turns black.
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