I am secured to my bed by thick restraints. The clinical odor of cleaning fluid permeates my room, infecting my nostrils with its stench. My simple bed is complimented perfectly by the stark white walls and lack of other furniture. The steel door is locked, and the viewing pane is closed tight.

Calvetti Sanitorium sounds like a nice place, but its inhabitants are anything but nice. We are all classified as "Criminally Insane" but some of us are worse than others. Myself, I have been behaving for the most part. Last night was an exception.

It was my first episode in months and I attribute it directly to Doctor Stiles. He took over from Doctor Blevins, who had been my savior for the past two years in this place. I think Doctor Stiles was afraid of me, hence the restraints. I wouldn't have harmed him had he not taken my dreamcatcher from its place on the wall. Doctor Blevins gave it to me and it's mine. He had no right to take it and now I'm afraid; I know my nightmares will return to me.

Doctor Stiles told me he was removing the dreamcatcher because he thought it was counterproductive to my therapy. I tried to convince him otherwise with a quick left hook to the side of his face. The attendants easily overpowered me and now I am here, strapped to my bed and waiting.

I wait to starve to death (or worse) because I know no one will come.

No one will come because Doctor Stiles broke my dreamcatcher. I heard him snap it in half as they locked my door and departed. I heard their screams when my nightmares escaped.

Now I hear the silence of my hall and know my neighbors are dead.

I know my nightmares will return to me.

I hope they are mericful.