Psychiatric Patient #207: The Bucket!

Homophobic Ward

Prolog:

Fences

(I'm sitting in a room, made up of big white walls. Hell, it's not just the walls. Everything's white. The doors, the ceiling, the floor, the bed. Even, our bed sheets, blanks, pillows; even our pillow cases, are white. Not only is everything in the room white, but It's bright-white.

There's a window, it's barred. Whatever sun I get, mixed in with these mercury- poisoned lights… it's too bright, too damn bright. The nuisance of the headache's, just get worse… and worse.)

He prolonged, with his thoughts, while he kept on looking around, the room he was in. (It's clean, too clean, I don't think I've even seen a single, damn bug, since I've been here. Not only is it clean, but it's empty, too empty. There's absolutely, nothing in here…expect for that damn barred window, the door, the call button, which is white by the way, and this bed they gave me.)

He rolled his eyes, then put his head down for a minute; to put pressure on his pounding head. A few seconds, with his eyes closed, did him some good. He didn't even need to look up; to know that, in the hall, there were people looking through the window, that was in the door.

(Great, more people, who can't keep their good- for- nothing business to themselves. Like it's any of their damn concern, what I'm here for.)

The crowed eventually vanished, as he sat there in silence.

(It's quiet, too fucking quiet; so quiet, I can hear my thoughts echoing. It's boring here. It's so, dull and tedious; it's sucking the life from me. I hate this place; I absolute despise it. I detest this place. I despise these very four walls around me. I want to escape this place, but every time I try, something, or someone get's in my way. Not that life, outside these walls, are any better.)

He swung his legs, back and forth, over the edge. He, looked around the bright- white room, the only room, that was known as room #207, before he let out a sigh.

(Even though they say, I'm supposed to be, out this damn cell, by the end of the month. They said, that my real doctor, was suppose to be back, a week ago from vacation. All fucking lies; he still hasn't came back yet. Furthermore, I can't leave, until he comes back. They said, that he had to hold me here, for a test, before I leave… and if I don't pass, they have to keep me here, even longer. Shit, you know what I think? I think they're nothing, but a bunch of lying bastards, just like that bastard, Kisho.)

(How I got here, you ask. Hell, how I got here? Shit man, I shouldn't even be here. Although, I've been locked up in here, for four whole fucking months, and two, whole shitty weeks, it feels like I've been here for years. If anyone, should be locked up anywhere…it should be that crazy bastard, and his damn, good- for- nothing friends. Whose Kisho, you ask? Well he's the one who tried to….never mind… I'm so pissed and worked up right now, I don't even want to think, about it.

(I was only trying to protect myself. Yet, no one seems to give a shit to hear, what I have to say. My life I could say was pretty norm- screw it, it's anything but. At least, it wasn't has screwed up, as it is now. Things can't be better….especially after that weekend….)

He frowned, and narrowed his eyes inward.

(Now I Ranma Saotome, patient #207, is stuck in this damn box of bright shit, and I can't get out. Again, I'm Ranma Saotome, patient #207, and this is my story….)

[AN: Only the prolog, epilogue, and maybe some parts, when Ranma is alone in thought; will I write in first person. I know it really shouldn't be done like that, but I just couldn't resist- it just feels like I had to, all right? So don't make a big deal out of it. I hardly ever do this. In fact this is my first time ever doing something like this- on Fanfiction, that is.]