I sit down on the chair in front of the therapist. I hate it here. I don’t want to be here. I miss my mirror. My hallucinations. They want them to stop. To go away. As the therapist speaks, I don’t listen. I only listen to myself. I think. I think of what people say to me. They call me mental, crazy, psycho. I was just trying to have fun.

“Are you listening?” the doctor asked. I looked at her, frowning. Her face seemed disoriented. Her eyes grew to big for her head. Her mouth curls upward. I shake my head and she goes back to normal.

“Well, I think you need a mental hospital,” she said.

“What?!” I stand up. She flinches. I clench my fists. Hurt her, a voice says. Kill her. I start to smile.

The doctor raises herself up and heads for the door, probably frightened, I follow her. Before she can leave, I grab her shoulder and throw her to the ground. She screams and I lock the door. I tackle her. The doctor continues to scream.

I grab the skin on her face and start tearing it. I’ve never known my own strength. Then I kick the table and a leg breaks off. I grab the chair leg and raise it over her head.

“Why are you doing this?” the doctor asks.

“All the best people are crazy,” I whisper. Then I puncture the wood into her head.

I carefully step into the tub. The water immediately turned red from blood. Not my blood. I lay down and close my eyes, smiling. No one can stop me. I reach for my pants and pull something out of the pocket. It was the left over brain. I start eating it. Blood stained my mouth. My eyes role back as I taste it. I could see the shadow in the corner of the room, smiling at me. It was pleased.