A/N: Here I am again, with yet another new story. I feel really bad about not finishing any of the other ones, but maybe they’ll resurrect themselves later on. This is one of those ones that pops into your head, and won’t get out until you put it down on paper.

This will be a bit of a new adventure for me. I think that I’m going to write it in first person, something that I really need to work on. It will also switch back and forth from the present to flashbacks; I’ll try and mark them as clearly as I can.

With that in mind, here we go.

Anonymity

Chapter One

“So, tell me a little about yourself.”

Typical lines from a typical therapist. What does he want me to say? That I don’t belong here, that it’s all a misunderstanding?

He’ll have to wait for the next person to get results like that.

I gave him the basics. My name, for instance. Jeremiah Austin Gray. Good ol’ Jeremy. The one that they thought was the nicest little boy in the world, who turned into the nicest not-so little teenager, to what we have today.

All the shrink did was nod his head, mumble something along the lines of ‘good’, and write something down on his little pad of paper. For all I knew, he was doodling on it, or making sarcastic comments to amuse himself while he is forced to ‘hear me out’. I didn’t want to be there any more than he did, but according to the bylaws of this ‘fine’ institution, I am required to be here, as is he; too bad he’s the only one getting paid for this.

I suppose you’re probably wondering who I am, and what I’m doing in an institution—a mental one, to be precise. And I’m sure Doctor Vigilant over there would like to know the story too, since that is what he’s getting paid to hear; what he will do with said information, should I choose to share with him, I have no clue.

That was a bluff right there. Of course I’m going to share. If I don’t—which they so kindly warned me of as they brought me down here to the second floor—that they’ll just keep bringing me back, locking me in here with this nutcase until I do share. They may be rather unintelligent oafs, but they can be forceful. Plus, I’ve got better things to do than sit here. I could…sit other places. Much more amusing that way.

Anyways, I suppose I’ve rambled on enough. The doctor is giving me that ‘knowing doctor’ look, ushering me to begin. I guess we’ll get started then.