I don’t know who it is I am supposed to be. I lost myself years ago. Years ago they tell me. They tell me this. Who are they? The ones I hate? Oh, yes! The ones I loathe. They did this to me. All of this. They say I did it, you know? That I killed them all. Brutally. That I fell into a depression and needed to find help. But it found me instead, and it was already too late for that. All twelve of them. Elizabeth, Trisha, Andrew, Chris, Abigail, Sophia, mother, father, boyfriend, sister, twin, and brother. Oh, dear brother. Chapter 1: December 14, 1962 I don’t know who it is I am supposed to be. I lost myself years ago. Years ago they tell me. They tell me this. Who are they? The ones I hate? Oh, yes! The ones I loathe. They did this to me. All of this. Chapter 2: November 11, 1961 The outside is black. Nothing but black. Black walls, black bricks, black windows, black lettering. I.N.S.A.N.E it says in black blocky lettering. A.S.Y.L.U.M it says in black cursive. Insane Asylum. Washington State Insane Asylum. Black. Dead. 12. 12 of them. As in 12 of them dead.
But the inside is glorious! So bright. Light so wondrous, it bounces off the walls. So nice. So clean.
They say I did it, you know? That I killed them all. Brutally. That I fell into a depression and needed to find help. But it found me instead, and it was already too late for that. All twelve of them. Elizabeth, Trisha, Andrew, Chris, Abigail, Sophia, mother, father, boyfriend, sister, twin, and brother. Oh dear brother.
But I wouldn't! I know I wouldn't. At least I think I know I wouldn't. They put me on medicine. The ones who walk around in white, waiting for us to make a mistake. They torture us! Giving us medicine so we forget, so we can give up, and so they don’t need to take care of us.
They don’t like to give up. But they think that we do. Us, inmates. We don’t. We want out…all of us. The ones who killed their husbands, children, or random people. They want out. Life is very cramped up in here, and ever since they hired the new man in black, we all have bruises. But it gives us color.
We walk around in slippers and pink or yellow drapes that barely cover our back-end. Lucky we have a nightgown underneath. But we don’t just wear it at night; we have to wear it all the time. And it gets kind of smelly in here. Some of them miss their pans, and reek of urine. But they won’t change your clothes; the laundry woman doesn't arrive until Thursday. Once a week. Only once a week.
Today Ben struck me. Ben is the man in black. I think I was playing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” too repetitively on the piano. To be honest, I don’t even like that song. It just keeps me busy, and this allows me to keep my distance from the others. Especially Rita. She has a stuffed goat. His name is Eddy. She takes him everywhere, and gives him a voice. He’s more interesting than the rest of them though. He doesn't murmur as much. Which is odd, because Rita rarely talks to anyone.
The only friend I have here is Stacey. Stacey is very kind. She doesn't belong here.
I don’t know what it is she was even sent here for. The only bad thing she has ever done is try to hang herself. But that isn't much compared to the rest of us. Like Eloise, she trapped her kids in her basement and fed them canned beans, nothing but canned beans for three months. She then switched it to fried rice. The longer they lasted, they better she fed them. She made it all the way to hamburgers. The kids were three when she put them down there (they were twins), they should have been in the first grade by the time someone finally realized what was going on. She was drying their clothes outside on a line, but the kids never came out to play.
You know Rita? The one I was talking about earlier.? Well she’s in here for murder, molestation, and rape. I didn't think women did that sort of stuff. Thought it was just for the neighborhood pedophile with the long grey beard and missing teeth. She was insane long before they finally caught up to it. She had files and files of children in the school district, mostly pictures they didn't know she was taking.
She was the school nurse, and they never bothered to question her ways. Even when she asked to be assigned the full body checks. The principal allowed it. Killed 8 boys, ages 5 to 8. And killed 5 girls, ages 5 to 7. I think the worst part of it all, was the fact that she buried them in the field next to the playground. It wasn't guarded or locked and it was secluded from most houses. The little kids played tag on top of their former classmates’ bodies. No one would have noticed, if it wasn't for black plastic bag sticking out of the ground.
And there was me. I was convicted of killing 12 people. Five of them were related to me, and seven of them weren’t. One of those seven being my boyfriend. All of them were brutal. And all of them were killed within 12 hours. One of them each hour. Whether they had 12 stab wounds, 12 bullet wounds, or 12 body parts separated from each other, they all died peaceful from what I was told. Because I did the kill shot or stab first, and the rest of it was for kicks and giggles. Oh! Don’t let me forget this part. I killed them on the 12th of December, the year 1960. I was sixteen at the time.