you were diagnosed as mentally unstable only a few days ago, you remember it clearly, the moment the judge had decided you were to go to St. Louis insane asylum. You weren’t too fond of the idea but you didn’t exactly have a choice. the path leading to the asylum was blocked by trees so as you rode in the car, your wrists chained and body aching for escape the roads were getting bumpy and the two guards with you constantly had their hands on their weapons everyone seemed on edge as you walked in, the gazes of the doctors were locked on you as the man led you to a room where the number 21 was burned into your wrist, a permanent reminder of what you had done, the scar on your cheek reminiscent of the final desperate attempts of your victims each cell you passed was padded with women in gowns like yours and men wearing loose shirts and pants, you didn’t see very many men until you passed patient 16’s cell, almost instantly something clicked inside you you didn’t know who he was but when he looked at you intrigue often won you over the only things in your cell were a bed in the corner, a padded desk with a notebook and guarded pencil so it couldn’t be used as a weapon and a chair at the center of the room, they locked you in, leaving you for the night it was peaceful at first, quiet, a settling silence. Nothing really scared you anymore, you were the thing everyone else should fear, not the other way around, that was until you heard the lock of your cell open, patient 16 stepped in slowly, his gaze locked on yours and he wandered closer, his gaze darting to your chest then to your face “Who are you?” his voice was smooth, almost seductive but the underlaying tone was evident