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...laughing with pleasure every time they managed to scare one of the neighbours. I was upstairs in the attic looking at an old picture of my great grandfather; he was from an Indian subcontinent called Sri Lanka. I never ever had the privileges of meeting him, but I imagined going to the Indian Ocean and watching the sun set on his sailor boat. The crystal clear water that was heaven to the beautiful fish, was only a dream to me. It was only a figment of my imagination that swayed me to sleep.

I was awoken by skittles grabbing me strongly by the neck. But she was wearing white gloves and she wasn’t silent anymore. She was singing very painfully, like a lobster being thrown into a boiling bucket of water. Her voice made my ears ring but I still struggled to hear her. I had her face tattooed in my eye lids for months.

The Mental Hospital

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