Chains… Ropes… Leather straps… The chair…the chair…the chair…

“LET ME OUT!”

Lockdown. The guards…they went crazy. They ran everywhere. All the lights came on. They shouted and ran. They ran like cockroaches. They scuttled all over the place. Through the filth and grime. That’s what they call us, anyways. The halls were filled with them, but they were looking for the wrong thing. They looked in the wrong places. They looked everywhere else before they dared to come here. They’re scared of this place I’m in. This place of darkness and depression. Crazy depression. Madness written in shadows. Writing on the walls. Dripping writing that fell on the floor. A place of such…contrasts. I am black. The room is white. So white. Whiter than the dead. Than the snow. Whiter than holiness. So white, it was unholy. And I, so black, Hell itself left me here. They say the number on the door itself is 666. And they finally opened it. But the room wasn’t white anymore. It was red.

“What happened this time?”

“It murdered, again…”

“But how did someone get into that room in the first place?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“And for God’s sake, he isn’t an it!”

“Y--yes sir…”

“He’s just a child!”

“He’s twelve! That little monster can grow up!”

“Out of my office. NOW.”

The guard left.

Dr. Grey leaned back in his office chair, and sighed. It had all happened before, and he began to think he was getting too old for these schizophrenics. Every year, the same thing. One crazy person after the next. He had to somehow “save” these lost souls, but he couldn’t anymore. He couldn’t work the wonders he used to.

But this boy…he was special. There was something different about him. The boy acted as though he was insane, but there was something about him that could make him seem normal. He might kill people, but the boy knew what he was doing. Grey had spoken to the boy before. The boy was highly intelligent. He knew what he was doing.

“Fucking asylum…”

Grey got up from his chair, and left the office. He would have to speak to this boy again. Try to get more out of him. Try to find something that was worth all of this madness. Madness written in shadows. As Grey walked down the hallway, he could hear the moans of imprisoned patients. Some thudded on the walls with who knows what. If it kept up, they would have to be moved…

I could hear him before he came. He stood outside my door. He wanted to make sure I wouldn’t kill him. Make sure I couldn’t kill him. But I could. I just didn’t want to…not yet. The guard unlocked the door. It was lovely to hear that sound. I hardly ever did anymore. They think they can starve me. They can’t when the room is red. They can’t when I get up from the chair. They think they can leave me there. The think one place is good enough. They think they can keep me safe with chains and ropes. Keep me safe from hurting myself they say. But they do it to keep themselves safe. They don’t get it, though. They are never safe.

He came in. He had that clipboard. He wants me to talk. He spoke to some guards. They came to the chair, and took me out. I could breathe again. They wouldn’t look at me, or touch me. I knew they were scared. They ran out, and closed the door. He came closer to me. He kneeled on the floor. The floor was soft. The walls were soft. Even the door was soft. They make it soft so that I can’t hurt myself. So I can’t break a bone. But I only stay in the chair. The room doesn’t need to be soft.

Dr. Grey kneeled down in front of the boy. The boy stood there, hanging his head, and looking at the ground. He was still dressed in the same clothes, and they were stained with blood. Lots and lots of blood. Grey was disgusted with the employees. If they couldn’t take care of things properly, then this place would die with him.

“So, why did you do it?”

The boy didn’t move.

“Hungry…” he breathed.

Dr. Grey nodded.

“Yes, but don’t they feed you enough here?”

“No.”

“You get a meal every day, don’t you?”

“Not what I need…”

“Yes, and what do you need?”

The boy was silent. It happened every time Grey asked that question. He thought, however, he might try to find out this time what the boy meant.

“She was stupid,” the boy said.

“Oh she was? And, who exactly was she?”

The boy smiled this time.

“I don’t know, but she was stupid. Stupid people are good.”

“How so?”

The boy’s mouth returned to its former state, and he fell silent once more. Grey sighed.

“Didn’t you write anything on the wall this time?”

“No. I didn’t need to.”

“Why is that?”

“I only need to make the room red. They can’t touch me when the room is red.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll kill them.”

Dr. Grey thought over this. The boy still looked at the floor.

“Why would you kill them like you did…her?”

“Stupid people are good.”

Dr. Grey stood up, and looked around the room. Everything was clean as it should be. No blood or scratches on the walls. All of the cushions were sewn up neatly and tightly. The chair was bolted tightly to the floor, and all the restraints were in good condition. But what did they need that chair for anyways? If they’d leave the boy alone, everything would be fine. Or would it?

“She’s looking at you,” the boy whispered.

“Who is?”

The boy pointed upwards, without raising his head. Grey looked up, and saw that the boy was pointing at a head, nailed to the ceiling. The eyes were missing, and the face had been scratched to beyond recognition. A large, rather vicious nail had been driven through the mouth, which was wide open. All the teeth were missing. The hair hung around it like a dark halo.

“I killed her.”

It was all I had to say. They put me back. They locked me in. I can’t move in the chair. Now I can’t eat. They took my head. The best part. They cleaned it up. Everything is white again. So white it hurts. So white the color shouldn’t exist. Whiter than holiness. So white it was unholy. I have to get away. The white is powerful. So is the black. But the white is more powerful. Only red can control them. I can’t. But there is no red. I can’t make red. Not in the chair. If only there were no chains. No ropes. No…straps. If only there was no chair. If only there was no white room. I have to make it red. I can’t.

“LET ME OUT!”

“Sir!”

Dr. Grey looked up from his paperwork.

“What now?”

“He--he’s done it again.”

“What?”

The guard ran down the hall. Dr. Grey sighed, and put down his papers. He stood up, and followed the footsteps down the hall. He found the guard standing at the boy’s door. The door was open, hanging a little crooked, and the glass window was severely cracked. The guard turned away, and leaned on the wall.

Grey stepped closer to the door, and glanced into the room. It was completely splattered with blood. It was dripping from the ceiling, and the walls were gashed. In the middle was a bloody heap.

Grey rushed in, and kneeled down by the heap. It was the boy. He was covered in gashes and blood, almost as if he’d been swimming in it. Grey reached out hesitantly. He drew back, and looked to see if the boy was breathing. He wasn’t. Grey reached out, and fingered a gash on the boy’s arm. It was jagged and deep, almost to the bone. He felt the arm. It was cold as ice.

“Oh, God…” he breathed.

Grey stood up, and looked at the chair. The chains were useless and broken. The ropes were torn viciously, and the leather straps had been virtually snapped apart. The chair itself was laying on its side. It appeared to have been ripped from its bolts.

“How the hell…”

“S-sir.”

“What?” grey asked, turning around.

The guard was staring at the ceiling. It dripped here and there. Grey turned his head up, and was instantly shocked. The ceiling was covered with writing.

“Get your ass in here, and clean this up!” Grey shouted, and he marched over to the guard, grabbed him, and thrust him on the floor.

“Clean this up! I don’t care if others help, just clean it up!”

The guard nodded, and bolted out of the room.

Grey went back to his office and sat in his chair. He stared at the wall, and felt depressed and suicidal.

“How the hell could I have let this happen?”

He leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling. The words appeared there, haunting him.

Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever…

“Sir, wake up.”

“What? Wh--who is it?”

“You have to see this.”

“What is it?”

“The room, sir…”

“I thought I said to clean it up!”

“That’s the problem sir…we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“The blood won’t come off.”

Grey stood up, and rushed down the hall, the guard struggling to keep up with him. He reached the room, and looked inside. The walls were completely wet with soap and water, and the room even smelled clean…but the blood was still there.

“What’s wrong with this room?”

“Give me a sponge or a brush or something! NOW!”

A nurse handed him a pad of steel wool. Grey snatched it up, and began to scour the walls, but he could have kept at it until his arms fell off. The blood wouldn’t come off.

“No…”

“Sir--”

“Shut-up!”

The guard fell silent. Grey walked around, scrubbing and tearing at the walls with the wool. It wouldn’t come off. He punched the walls in anger tossed the wool aside. He went over and viciously kicked the chair. It rolled slightly. He turned around and stared hard at the floor, but he noticed something like writing on the floor…made of drops of blood.

Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever…

The room wasn’t white anymore. It was red.