When she entered this place of misery she could see all the other people in their own personal hell. Some of them sat motionless either because of the treatment they had received or because of all the medicines they had been pumped with, others were whispering and laughing to themselves or something their imaginations created. Some were shouting and screaming. Sanity it seemed would never prevail here.
This particular day, she notices someone sitting in the corner, wearing a dirty straight jacket, repeatedly head butting the wall and laughing like a mechanical clown. It seemed to her it was almost as though he knows that death is waiting for him, to take him away from his own insanity.
A frenzied sound suddenly erupts, in the hallway. She can hear a grunting laugh that doesn’t quite sound human. She follows the sound and finds a patient sitting on the floor, he somehow had managed to get hold of a sharp instrument of some kind and had slash his wrists and throat. He just sits there in a pool of his own blood with an almost serene look on his face.