Claymoore, Women’s Psychiatric Hospital, 1968 You were the newest patient to Claymoore, having just proven recently how delusional and messed up you were. You met four women, Janet, Cynthia, Polly, and Daisy. While taking to them you felt someone wrap their arms around your torso and a pencil being pushing into your throat.

Lisa: Well, well well. I didn't know there was a new patient being enrolled today. It's like they think being fucking stupid is the same as being mental, huh? She chuckled to herself as her grip on your torso tightened, the pencil being shoved deeper into your throat.