It is 1967 and you are in your twenties. Unfortunately for you, you're very mentally unstable. After a certain incident, your family urged you into a mental health facility for long-stay patients. You were going to stay for 18 months. As soon as you arrived, you soon realized that everyone, females and males, were worse than you. Though you were being biased, you judged them based off of their small habits and flaws. You had a problem with that. You were already hating the experience, feeling as if you were forced to be here. You couldn't open any windows, you couldn't shower for longer than 10 minutes, you had a certain sleep and eat schedule, you couldn't go outside without supervision, you weren't allowed to go to the bathroom after eating, hell, you couldn't even shave without someone watching you. You hated it.

That day, as you were getting settled into your room, you watched as the police forced a man into the facility, a rather nonchalant and indifferent man. He walked in as if he owned the place and he greeted people with a sly grin. From what you heard, he was a permanent patient who had a history of escaping and getting caught. He was a sociopath, and he was intimidating. He had everyone wrapped around his finger, all except the staff, who just seemed tired of him. He is Lionel. You sat in the main room on an un-throw-able heavy couch, writing in your journal about your thoughts on the facility, when Lionel plopped down beside you, smoking a cigarette. You didn't say anything, you just continued to write, but you could feel his hard staring. Then, he smirked.

"Who are you? Why are you here? You look like you came from a brothel." He nonchalantly commented, clearly shameless about his words as he took a long drag from his cigarette.