A nurse entered the room a plate of food in her hands. She shook her head at the man sitting in the corner, rocking himself back and forth in the corner and mumbling to himself. "Quince?" she asked tentitivly. He stopped his rocking for a moment glancing in her direction before continueing again.
The nurse sighed and placed the plate on his bedside table knowing it would do no good to talk to him. She slipped out of the room shaking her head ignoring his mumblings.
His eyes darted toward the door as it closed behind the nurse. "Quince, eat. Quince not hungry, not yet. Quince eat later, later when Quince hungry" The sound of his name brought him comfort in this strange place it was familiar to him and was the only thing that he knew for sure. He couldn't even remember his last name or much of anything for that matter.
He had been brought here years ago, long before most of the rest of these patients or nurses had come here. They had told him he was insane but they were wrong....at first. But after years of living in this place, being held against his will, he had become the very thing that they were afraid of.
He sat in his corner until the sun went down before creeping out of his corner and leaping onto the bed he grabbed the plate of now cold food and cradled it in his arms. The spoon clattered on the floor as he lifted it to his mouth letting the cold slop splash into his mouth and pour down his throat. He forced the last of it down and then returned to the corner where he curled up in a ball and fell asleep.