Never trust a survirior until you know what they did to survive.

That’s how I ended up here. A MENTAL HOSPITAL. People say I’m going crazy but it happened. It all happened.

I was chosen to go to war. I started at military camp, and met a nice fellow. Maurice. He had been in 4 different wars, and survived a shooting in his own home. This is all he told me the first day. The next, he said he had no gun, but the intruder did, all Maurice had was a knife. I sharpened kitchen knife. Then, the next day, he said he chopped off the hand of the gunned man, so he could wield no gun. The next day he told me, after the hands, he sliced the rest of him up in thin slices like a cucumber, so he would feel the pain. He let him keep the middle of his body, so he could live to feel the harsh pain. Maurice was no longer my friend, he was a killer. When I mentioned of this, he did the same to me. People say I just imagined it, and I only lost my limbs in the war, but I do not dream. It all happened. Don’t trust survivors until you know what they did to survive.