House of Lost Minds

It's almost bad, remembering everything.

But then, I may not be remembering everything. Only somethings.

Because of what happened, and for some reason I don't know whether I can find that to be a good thing or not. Sure, I've met Rayne here – since when was she fucking nuts? - and remembered someone who wasn't sticking in my drugged memory.

Mikey.

I saw him, I saw him with my own eyes and I even touched him. He wasn't just someone in my imagination because when he held me, I touched his arm and he was real.

I don't know what to feel about that either.

Whether I actually want to remember and just hold onto the hope of what they said. I mean, come on. In 30 days time they say they're going to bust us out.

No matter how much I want to trust and believe in Mikey – and Frank, I remember his name – I don't see that happening.

And god, they're telling us to deny and fight against the nurse and the pills.

Everyone was up and ready for it, they want to get out like the next person does, but as the days will wear on, I'd find it hard to believe that everyone will not bow down to the pressure.

I'm having a hard time believing that I will as well.

We were separated again, me and Rayne, and everyone else were put back in their rooms. The four walls of mine felt different. Not a real different, not noticeable or anything.

Just....different.

Maybe it was what they were saying, back in the room. About wiring the music up. But then, I can't hear any music...

Wait, yes I can.

I can, now, faintly hear it.

Taking the letter from my shirt, I looked at it. It was from Mikey, and it made me remember a memory from before I came here.

Back to when my mum was alive. And before everything became more messed up then normal. To just before I decided to be stupid and run away with my siblings.

When my mum took me back from Rayne's house, I wrote three letters. One for Rayne, one for Frank and one for Mikey.

Just that thought alone made me place the letter under my mattress, unread.

I knew I should read it, just something inside me told me that I should, but I couldn't. Not after remembering that memory. And a lot of things today.

Because remembering doesn't like me; makes me remember the worse things ever. But I don't know whether that was the worst thing ever, or not.

Crawling onto my bed, I wrapped my bruised arms around my legs before rocking backwards and forwards.

One tear started which lead me on to ful on bawling and screaming.

It's like this hallway gets to me, and makes me.....makes mee.....

Crazy.