Perfectly Insane

Frank was barely conscious when everything came screeching back at him. He sat up, looking around, his eyes trying to adjust to his almost pitch black surroundings. From what he could tell it was an average sized room. One wall held a bay window, moonlight poking through the open shades. His bed felt too uncomfortable and small and he still couldn't make out what was on the other side of the room.

Where had they put him?

He could remember the big burly men dragging him down the hall as his mother just stood there.

Fuck.

They must've sedated him.

It only made sense. How could she do this to him? How could she just leave her only child her?

Monroeville Institution.

The words came flashing back to him in his mind like a neon sign. He wasn't crazy. Just because he wasn't perfect didn't mean he was crazy.

He had to get out of here.

It was at that precise moment he noticed the door.

Jackpot.

He stumbled out of the bed and rushed over, grabbing the door knob and yanking it down. It stopped him halfway with a large click.

He tried over and over again.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click Click Click Click Click ClickClickClickClick.

It was locked and he was never leaving.

Frank slumped down against the door in defeat, his arms trapped tightly around his knees. Suddenly it felt like this space was far too small and the walls were slowly creeping towards him. His heartbeat quickened in slight panic. What's happening?

Frank started hyperventilating but there was no air.

Why was there no air?

The room started spinning and he felt sick to his stomach. He banged a hand against the door.

"HELP! LET ME OUT! I NEED TO GET OUT!"

But there was only silence. He gasped for air and banged harder against the door. He tried to scream but nothing came out.

Frank collapsed to the floor, pressing his face against the cool tiles trying to get a grasp on reality. All he could hear was his heart beat and the blood rushing.

Oh how he hated that sound as it slowly consumed his thoughts. He clutched at his head in vain. He tried to yell...say something to stop this madness...but it felt as if some invisible force was constricting his throat. His pulse only became faster and faster, gasps meeting in pure panic and terror.

I'm going to die...

"Late dawns and early sunsets, just like my favorite scenes..." A voice quietly broke through Frank's loud futile gasps for air.

"Then holding hands and life was perfect, just like up on the screen" The voice picked up slightly. "And the whole time while always giving, counting your face among the living..."

Frank fought the panic taking over his body. He put all his focus onto the voice as if it was like he was drowning and this...this...voice was his life preserver.

"Up and down escalators, pennies and colder fountains. Elevators and half priced sales trapped in by all these mountains. Running away and hiding with you...I never thought they'd get me here. Not knowing you change from just one bite. I fought them all off just to hold you close and tight..."

"But does anyone notice? But does anyone care? And if I had the guts to put this to your head...but would anything matter if you're already dead? And well should I be shocked now by the last thing you said?Before I pull this trigger, your eyes vacant and stained..."

"But does anyone notice? But does anyone care? And if I had the guts to put this to your head...And would anything matter if you're already dead? And now should I be shocked by the last thing you said? Before I pull this trigger, your eyes vacant and stained...and in saying you loved me, made things harder at best, and these words changing nothing, as your body remains, and there's no room in this hell, there's no room in the next, and our memories defeat us, and I'll end this direst."

"But does anyone notice? But does anyone care? And if I had the guts to put this to your head...but does anything matter if you're already dead? And should I be shocked now by the last thing you said? Before I pull this trigger, your eyes vacant and stained...and in saying you loved me, made things harder at best, and these words changing nothing as your body remains, and there's no room in this hell, there's no room in the next, but does anyone notice...there's a corpse in this bed."

Frank's breathing slowed down as the song slowly came to an end, the erratic gasps meeting their end. The final words of the beautifully haunting voice rang clear and cold in his mind.

There's a corpse in this bed

Shakily Frank sat up, using the door as support.

He squinted into the darkness he had hardly paid attention to before. Now a pale hand illuminated by a lighted cigarette stood out where it clearly hadn't been earlier. He watched in slight fascination as the singer took a drag from the cigarette, smoke curling high.

Were cigarettes even allowed here?

He tried to make out the face but it was only a brief flicker before the cigarette moved away from their mouth. He figured it was some guy from his voice.

Minutes dragged by as he watched him drag after drag. Frank found himself craving one.

Finally Frank mustered up enough courage to speak into the silence.

"W-who are you?"

No answer.

"What do you w-want?"

Great. Now Frank sounded like some amateur ghost hunter asking the air questions.

To his surprise the singer chuckled. "No Frankie. The question is what do you want?"