The story of a girl trying to make her way through an asylum with no memory of how she got there and no idea of what's in store.
All I can remember is waking up and feeling foggy.
My vision was cloudy for a long time when I tried to open my eyes. It was like trying to see through fog or water. I felt woozy and a little sick. Trying to convince myself I wasn't, I leaned forward to try crawling to my feet but was overcome by a sudden, violent urge to retch. Pain surged through my head as the bile left my body, causing my vision to blacken out more and my conscious state to waiver slightly.
"Ugh, not again!" A voice from just beyond me sounded out, "You couldn't just swallow it could you? You're damn lucky I won't let you sit in it!" The loudly grumbling voice came from a male and it sounded like he was approaching. Guilt panged me slightly when I realized he said this wasn't my first offence.
I rubbed my eyes to try and gain back more of the vision I lost. Bits were clearing very slowly, but I guess not quick enough for whoever had addressed me since he broadsided me while I was trying to sit up, knocking me back into some of my sick.
"Filthy creature!" He snapped at me as he slammed his bucket and mop around. I moved out of the puddle and laid my head to rest it. After some rest, I was able to see more of him: big, burly, scarred, all around cantankerous. Very suiting.
"Where am I?" I asked, my words slurred sounding like my brother Harold did after too much wine at family dinner parties. I couldn't help but smile at the memory but quickly sobered up when he flicked the mop's water in my face and bent down to address me.
"You know bloody well where you are. And if you ask me, you deserve less than this!" he snarled and leaned in very close; his little beady eyes showed his belief of some sort of patriarchy or something like that and his breath reeked of bad meals and Halitosis. I just gave a small nod to appease him enough to move away from me but it didn't seem to work.
"You're not pretty," he stated bluntly but his lips curled into a coy smile. "But I'm not very choosy."
My mind was still mixed up from whatever had knocked me out earlier but I wasn't that stupid to not get the advance. I simply narrowed my eyes in a silent defiance and attempted a glare-down of sorts. There was no way I was backing down.
Seeing my attempts feeble, he just laughed, blowing his horrendous smelling breath in my face before he stood up. "You think you can outbeat me sweetheart? Fat chance, my job is to restrain people like you and yes, various methods are happily employed," he answered causically, letting me fill in the blanks. "Bah, I'm not in the mood for puke right now but keep your eyes open sweetheart, because I'll always be around to look for you," he jeered as he exited and locked what looked like my cell.
Now having gained back all my senses, I looked and sniffed around to make sense of this little world I now resided in. Through the bars, I saw others in their own barred cages; some were sleeping, some pacing, counting, chanting, staring into space. Everyone seemed to be doing their own thing.
All I could think of was how lost I was and how I didn't understand this strange place, whatever it was. I couldn't remember anything recent or piece anything together except that I was sitting alone in a cell with a huge headache still and my sick still on the floor.
Unsure of what else to do, I curled up in the corner and placed my head against the cold stone wall. An icy breeze snuck through a couple of holes in the brick's mortar, making me shiver and giving me only one more bleak indicator of my present state.
I was in a prision in the dead of winter.