It's Called Murder, Baby

They thought they could cure our insanity with pills and test, when in reality they were the mad ones.

(Also can be found on wattpad made by my wattpad account @-chemichael)


2. Meeting Norman Bates Jr.

“I think that we're all in our private traps, clamped in them, and none of us can ever get out.” -Norman Bates, Psycho +


There's a war in my mind and I am the weapon. They are my opponents and the only way to win the war is to stay sane. Which becomes a challenge every day. Especially after getting induced with such high levels of drugs. The white walls start turning black, and your eyes start playing tricks on you. People walking through walls, the piggy man breathing down your neck, and being watched by a pair of midnight eyes.


"It's not real." That's what they always say, they never even considered the fact that maybe it was, and they were too blind to see. That blood stain of Cell B might be there or Nike Brooks existed. Here I am going even madder, might as well toss me the pills and run the test on me.


My eyes opened as I stared blankly at the ceiling, I could already hear the record player playing the music in the common room. I slowly shuffled and leaned against the barred door, waiting for it to open. That's what you do half the time here, in the Griffin Mental Hospital of the Mentally Ill, just waiting for your mind to deteriorate into nothingness.


We are mental patients who have been deemed ‘unsafe’ for humanity and locked away. We've never killed anyone, period. Those who have are in asylums meant for the criminally insane. We're considered the mentally insane. How did we get here? Well that's a tough one. Each of us are supposedly ill and were taken into care to get cured. Being cured means being on more meds then a drug addict. Rarely anyone leaves, we're all trapped in some sort of way. And, if you do manage to get out, the doctors will always find another excuse to get you sent back. The short-lived moments of freedom you get outside the hospital aren't always good. The doctors drive your family away from you and convince them they should let you go. Then, they convince everyone else you know that you are mental, bananas, off the rocker, or bonkers. We were guaranteed that we would all spend our days here with nothing but emptiness. A world without human interaction and isolation.


Click. The door swung open slowly and I walked out into the common room. Walking down the hallway is the worst, the guards, nurses, and officials looking at you like you're some leftover. Their glares pierce me as I walk by. My head was down low, looking at my shoes and tattered uniform. It's the walk of shame. Soon I hear the familiar dull sounds of the record player. As always it's the same slow beat with no words. It's said to calm the mind, but it drove me into a silent madness.


Who's watching us? You may think. Well, no one is. We have cameras due to budget cuts. Apparently having a small piece of machinery watch over you was better than a guard. Griffin isn't exactly the nicest place, it's filled with grime and dirt, while the owner is locked away in his own office. I heard his office has every luxury there ever has been.


"Morning Arabella." The guard, Jake, greeted. Jake was one of the few guards that actually did their job.


"Good morning Jake, what brings you here?" I mumble.


"New patient." He replies as I let out a sigh. 'Great, another lunatic to add to the loony bin,' I think to myself bitterly.


"Who's showing him around?"


"I was hoping you could show him the ropes and the works, since you have been here the longest."


"Of course." I mutter.


I'm the oldest patient here that was mentally stable, Gil who's the oldest is banging his head on the wall. His theory is to kill the bad brain cells in hopes he can be labeled ‘cured’ and be able to leave. I roll my eyes as I pass Gil and sit on the battered sofa in the middle of the common room. The room was practically bare with nothing more than a couple of chairs and tables. The nicest thing we have is a vase filled with dead roses.


Just sitting and looking at the other patients drains my soul. I can't understand how the guards can still manage to smile. If a patient smiles it only lasts half a second and then it turns back into a scowl.


I rest my head against the wall and closed my eyes.


"Hey you!" A voice calls out from across the room and my eyes flutter open.


"Yes?" I grit my teeth annoyed. I want to scream 'leave me alone', but I have to keep my composure.


"Wanna play cards?" She holds a stack of worn poker cards up in the air waving them. I let out a grunt and roll my eyes.


"No." Suddenly her expression changes into a scowl. She stands up and marches toward me, her hand grabbing my neck. "Gua-" Her other hand covers my mouth.


"Play. Cards. Now." She demands. I quickly nod my head and slowly slide into the chair across from her. I place my slightly shaking arm on the table and observe her as she deals out the cards.


"Stop shaking," She spits as she makes even and neat piles.


"Dammit, I messed up." She curses, taking the neat piles and re-dealing them. I tapped my foot impatiently as she curses once again, starting over again.


"You don't have to start over again." I roll my eyes, annoyed.


"No it has to be perfect." She slowly puts the cards into piles.


"Here let me." I suggest, reaching for the cards and her hand quickly slaps mine away. I wince as I draw my hand back. I give her a scowl as I rub my hand.


"What's your problem?" I hiss.


"Please, just let me deal the cards." She says in a strained voice, her hand forming a fist.


"Are you OCD or something?" I narrow my eyes at her. I rise from my chair and start to walk away.  'Bitch,' I think to myself.


"Yes, I am." I freeze and turn back around.


"And bi-polar, with a dash of ICD." She mutters staring at the cards in her hands.


"Sorry." A pang of guilt washes over me, for a moment I actually feel genuinely guilty.


"Stop looking at me like that." She snaps.


"Like what?"


"Like I'm a helpless baby bunny with only one leg."


"I just didn't know." I said absentmindedly. "Doesn't everyone?'" She snorts tossing the cards across the table.


"I'm Arabella, you?"


"I'm Vera, nice to meet you." We shake hands.


For the next hour I spend time learning about Vera. Apparently, she almost murdered her father after he came home drunk and hit her brother.


"He hit him, then this red fire inside me devoured me, I couldn't control myself." She stutters as she looks out the window. "It was like the only colour I could see was red and all I could feel was anger."


"You were only protecting your brother."


"Now he's living alone with my father, while my father spends all his money on booze, I just can't stand being here anymore." Tears start forming in her eyes.


"It's okay, knowing you he's probably ten times stronger." I smile wiping away her tears.


"Attention!" Jake's voice booms across the common room. Everyone stops and turns their head.


"Introducing our new patient, Luke Hemmings." He announces as the door opens. A guy who looks in his twenties walks into the room with his head down. He's mumbling to himself while his hands mess up his already messy hair.


"It's Norman Bates, asshole." He corrects and everyone starts laughing. "Arabella, can I talk to you for a moment?'" Jake asks, pulling me into a corner.


"Yes?" I ask, leaning against the door.


"Mr. Hemmings has a slight identity issue." "Hmm?"


"He believes he is the reincarnation of Norman Bates."



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