"Asylum"

What is it that truly makes someone crazy? Do they no longer fall under social normalcies? Are their minds no longer able to tell apart their fantasy from the world's reality? Or do they have something going on in their heads the rest of the world isn't prepared for?

***

As I stood before the mirror, I straightened my tie before throwing on a white coat. I took a step back and examined myself. I looked like a lab assistant.

I was somewhat nervous about my first day on the job. I was going to be working at a mental institution, helping take care of some patients. I was insanely nervous, I've never worked, not even seen what the inside of a mental institution. 

My mind kept jumping to the worst case scenario, a patient comes out of their room screaming, the leap toward me and bite my ear off. I shook my head to try draining the thought from my mind. There was no way things would be like that. I doubted they'd have the patients just running around, free to cause as much destruction as possible.

Knowing what little I know about mental hospitals, they mainly have suicidal people in there temporarily. Of course I could be completely wrong.

I grabbed my sunglasses, for it was insanely bright outside, and headed for my car.

***

Upon passing through the front doors, I was greeted my a man with silvery grey hair that had been slicked back.

"Hi, you must be Isaiah," he said, sticking his arm out for a handshake. I followed through. "We're proud to have you onboard."

He motioned for me to follow him as he turned down twisting hallways and passing through opened doorways. Finally, we arrived in a hallway with a set of doors on either side.

"Are these all the patients?" I asked him. He nodded.

"These are the ones you'll be watching after to make sure they don't get out," he replied. "These are the anomalies."

"What do you mean anomalies?" I asked.

He lead me over to a door and opened it's window. It was a basic square room with a bed against the wall and a window directly across from the door.

There was a man sitting on the bed. He got up and walked over to the window and looked outside.

"What's he looking at?" I asked.

"Nobody knows," he said. "Every like five minutes, he will get up from his bed and walk over to the window, as if there's actually something outside waiting for him."

"That's sad," I said. 

He shut the window on the door and went over to the next door. We peeked inside and saw a man laying in bed with a distorted face.

"What's his story?" I asked.

"This man claims that every night he sleeps, the dreams last for years," he replied. "He says his dreams are getting longer and longer every night."

We made our way to the last room in the hallway. It was a girl sitting in a corner, rocking back and forth. She was mumbling and snickering to herself. Wonder what her problem was.

I turned to my boss to ask but not a split second later, his head exploded, covering the floor with blood and guys.

All I could hear was the girl cackling to herself.