...I had managed to cling onto sanity, all those long years. I had mostly kept to myself, to protect others from my borderline lunacy. Thank God for those meds that the doctor so rightly perscribed. They're little lifesavers, those little orange-and-white pills, keeping me from hurting people like I did all those long years ago.

Yeah, right.

I hate those doctors in the white coats. Demons, they are. Forcing those cursed pills down my throat every stinkin' morning. I didn't kill those people five years ago. Why won't anyone believe me? Am I the only sane one? I didn't kill them; I couldn't kill them. Why would I want to kill them? They were just regular people, like I used to be.

But I'm not regular.

I'm crazy, insane. The nice doctors with the clean white coats say so. And they're so nice to me, always listening to all that I say. Except for that one, the one who takes my meds away. But the nice doctors; why would they lie to me?


I'm NOT crazy! Heck, the only sane one in this entire asylum is the doctor who has enough sense to know what those pills are doing to me, creating a crazy side that before all of this didn't even exist. I need to destroy this monster the meds have created! I need to warn them before--!


I must thank them somehow...They must be tired after treating all those patients...A little cut to the throat, and they'll get all the sleep they'll ever need...


You cannot do that! I cannot do that! It's murder, and I REFUSE to become what I have been wrongly accused of being! STOP THIS MADNESS, NOW!!

What madness?

I may be a little crazy, sure, but not mad. The doctors have made sure of that. This is why I must thank them. They must be so tired....A nice, long rest would do them worlds of good.

No...This cannot be happening.

It is.

Stop it...Stop this...LEAVE ME ALONE!

I cannot. Those blessed meds have made you and I the same, and there is nothing you can do about it. Now, be a good soul and wait for me to do what I have to do...



I-I'm free...I won...Urgh, I feel like I haven't got any sleep in a year. But I guess that doesn't matter, because I'm free. My murderous side is least for now...

Author's Note: I'm not entirely sure what compelled me to write this, except perhaps boredom. I kept thinking what it would be like if you were treated for being crazy, while it was the treatment itself that was making you crazy. Well, at least I thought it was a good idea...Anywho, I hope you liked it. Shalom!