"After seeing the fort go up in flames, I ran. I left everything behind. When I got to the exit I bumped into a bunch of firemen, rushing to get into the forest to put out the fire before it spread. And that's what happened."

The psychiatrist looked at me and tilted his head before jotting down a few notes and pressing stop on the tape recorder. He pushed up his glasses, slicked back his brown hair and broke the silence.

"Wow," He began. "No one has ever come to the place with such a long story."

He glanced back at my mother who was standing behind the chair I was sitting in. Her eyes were pinned on me. I told my mother everything that had happened a few days after it really happened. Next thing I know I'm being stuffed head first into a car and shipped off to a mental institution.

"So?" My mother questioned.

"I'll have to run some test's and talk to a few people to have full results, but Izzy will have to stay here for now. " He looked down at me and gave me a half crack of a smile. Then stuck his hand out at me. "Welcome to the Asylum Izzy."

I looked at his hand, then back at him. I stood up from my chair and left the room back to the waiting area.

My mother followed me to the waiting area. "You heard him." She said softly. "You'll be here, just for a while."

I shook my head. I knew it was a lie, everyone that comes in, never gets out. She kissed me on the head and left through the front doors. After a few minutes of waiting, two big guards dressed in black nurse outfits took me to my room.

I guess wearing white just got stained to often with these kind of patients. When I got to the door of my room, I was quite shocked, even though I shouldn't have. A big thick steel door stood before me. A slim doggy door like hole was at the bottom of the door, most likely to push food through. A square window with four steel bars was inside of it so no one could get through, it was about the height of the two giant guards standing behind me. And at the middle of the door, a small metal latch.

I was lightly pushed into my room and a pair of clothes were handed to me. Soft white pajama pants and a baggy doctor style t-shirt with slippers. Before I changed I looked around the room. There was nothing but a bed. The bed was pushed up against the back wall in the middle of the room.

I started changing clothes, when I got the shirt over my head I was all done. I looked like I belonged in a wheel chair in a retirement home. The guards knocked on the door.

"Are you done?"

"Yes." I answered.

I heard a small click, then the heavy door slowly opened. They motioned there hands towards themselves.

"Come this way." One of their deep voices told me.

I followed them down a grey stone hallway filled with other empty cells. The room that we got to was full of other patients. I guess this was the common room. I sat down on the couch nearest to the door it was a two person couch, but I threw my legs up on the other cushion so no one would sit next to me.

Across from me sat a man who looked about 19, his hair was pure white and his nose was down in a book, while his feet rested on the coffee table that was in between us. I stared at him for a moment, I was about to say something but he spoke before me, keeping his nose in his book. "Hello."

"Uh, hi." I said softly, turning to look at the other crazy patients .

"You don't look very crazy." His voice always stayed in the same flat tone, never taking his eyes off his precious book.

"You don't know me that well. " I answered still looking at a women bashing her head off the wall.

"Then why don't you tell my why you're in such a place."

"I...I, um." I guess I wasn't used to saying that I've flat out murdered people yet.

"You don't have to tell me if you're not ready." He replied.

"Mhm." I hummed.

"You don't seem very crazy either. Why are you in here." I asked, finally turning to look at him.

"I'm not in here because I'm crazy, or because I have some incurable disorder." He paused for a moment.

"I'm here because I have something called Arabian. From time to time the color of my right eye goes black and red. And it freaks people out."

"Oh, is that why you won't look at me?"

I saw his body jolt.

"Bulls eye." I mumbled.

"Promise me you won't freak out?" He asked.

"I promise."

He put his book down on the coffee table, took his feet down and looked up at me. He leaned towards me, resting his elbows on his knees and stared into my eyes. One of his eyes was so, different. The white part of his right eye was completely swallowed with black, and the part that was suppose to be a natural color was a piercing red with the black pupil in the middle.

"I've seen worse." I said.

He gave me a small smile.

"So did you hear about the psychiatrist?" He asked still gazing into my eyes.

"Hm?"

"He used to be a pseudopatient."

"Really?"

"Yeah, so don't get to close to him."

8 to 11 guards came in blowing whistles and moving patients out of there rooms to their cells. "Come on! Keep it moving!" They yelled, pushing and grabbing patients.

I was grabbed by the arm by a tall black man dressed in black. "Come." He mumbled, dragging me away. I didn't put up much of a fight. Wait, I forgot something.

"Hey! White hair! What's your name!" I shouted.

"Ken!" He shouted back.

"Izzy!" I shouted.

Dragged all the way down the long stone hallway hearing the wicked screams of the other patients made me home sick already. I was shoved into my cell with the door slammed behind me. I walked over to my bed and laid down. I tried my best to fall asleep, but it was no use. The screams of the patients freaking out in their cells was too loud.

These continuous nights of no sleep happened for another 3 days. Till I was called into an office early one morning, I was told that I was going to be allowed to see my friends, one last time.