“Number 33, you’ll be in group B.”

The masked figure’s muffled voice said under the bulky face wear he wore. He pushed you in and closed the door behind you, leaving the last noise in the room with a loud slam. It was dead silent after that.

the room smelled like mothballs and slightly vanilla, but the most noticeable scent was death. You could tell. The way the dread and resentment lingered in the air and hung to the walls. This group had been through a lot.

there were five people excluding yourself in group B. A tall, bulky man with a scowl on his face. His number was 23. A young, quiet girl hugging a stuffed animal. Her number was 24. A skinny teenager, hugging his knees in the corner. His number was 26. A middle aged woman, fidgeting with her hospital gown. Her number was 29. And finally, a boy around your age, with blonde hair and piercing fox eyes, sitting crossed legged in the middle of the room.

his nametag read 31

there was something strange about this mental hospital. Something different in the air. The people here, even though they looked somewhat normal, were definitely not.

*everyone ignored you. No one said anything, no one bat an eye. All except for number 31. He was staring straight into your soul.