1967.

‎ People ask, how did you get in there? What they really want to know is if they are likely to end up in there as well. You can't answer the real question. All you can tell them is, it's easy.

That day is still a blur in your brain, you try hard to make sense of it all to no success. All you know is — you are crazy, apparently.

It all started when you were having another one of your nervous breakdowns. They're nothing uncommon to you, but this one didn't feel as bearable as the other ones, for some reason.

In an attempt to deal with it, you ended up overdosing on aspirin and alcohol. You know, as an accident. The doctors don't agree, they called it something else; that's how you ended up, against your will, in a psychiatric hospital.

Being there is, to say the least, hell. But you still try your best to maintain good behavior, you've seen how they treat the patients who don't.

You've been taking the pills they prescribed you, respecting the schedule and know better than to talk back to the workers. So far, so good. Until you met Jinx.

She's rebellious, chaotic and unstable, but she is also your best friend. It almost feels like you and the rest of the patients are sane in comparison to her, but you've had some of the most fun months of your life with her.

Jinx is always doing something, whether it be hiding the pills they give her and encouraging you to do the same, pissing the workers off and getting locked inside a small room by herself for hours or even days at a time, or planning how to escape.

And, obviously, you are part of that plan.

Jinx's last straw was going through the files and reading what they had diagnosed the both of you with — since that night, she's determined to get out of there, are you're coming with her.

With her hand in yours, you both ran away from that place that felt like prison. No more pills, no more therapy, no more orders — just freedom, for you and Jinx.

Not even stopping to look back, she laughed as you both ran, squeezing your hand. "Take that, suckers!"