The hideous music begins to play and I know what time it is. “Pill time,” an old man says to me nudging my shoulder and smiling a toothless smile. I hate when these disgusting souls touch me. I don’t belong here especially since nobody is doing anything to help my night terrors.
Oh, excuse me my name is Edgar Monterra. The place I’m in is Happy Hills Psychiatric Hospital. I am here for my night terrors. They started when my beloved mother grew deathly ill. They’ve gotten so bad I’m scared to go to sleep and my hair has begun to fall out. During my night terrors I’ve been known to hurt people and break things. The worst I’ve done in my sleep is broken my wife’s nose and given her two black eyes. In my defense I thought she was a blood-thirsty troll.
This place helps nothing, and my night terrors are so wretched I refuse to sleep. They keep giving me sleeping pills which I hide underneath my tongue until I walk away, keeping all of my “swallowed” pills inside my pillow case. I’m saving up for the one day I hope to end my calamitous life.
“Edgar”, a woman in white chimes. I schlep over to her and she places a small, clear, plastic cup in my hand and a tiny oval shaped pill in the other. This one is for my night terrors. I swallow the pill then chase it down with the water. I begin to trudge back to my rubber chair in the corner when she stops me and says pitifully, “Edgar, you have one more. It’s to help you sleep.”
“I won’t take that luciferian pill,” I spit.
“Come now, Edgar you have such bags under your eyes you need rest and these will help, and besides if you refuse we’ll have to get authority,” the woman urges. Authority is the giant cretins who “escort” screaming psychopaths to solitary or force unwilling patients to take their dose.
I walk back over angrily and take the pill out of her hands, toss it in my mouth, and make a swallowing noise then indignantly march back to my room and shut the door. When I get into my room I go to my rubber bed and reach under my tongue and pull the slimy pill out and shove it deep into my pillow case with all the others. The pill had begun to dissolve so it now leaves a bitter taste in my mouth that makes me cough.




“Everybody gather towards the door. It’s time for supper,” Mrs. Leecher shouts then smiles as if she hadn’t just bellowed like a Marine sergeant. Everyone hurries over to the metal two-sided doors. We all have to walk to the commissary together and back since Alandra, a schizophrenic meth-head, snuck out on the way back from dinner (she’s currently in solitary). Mrs. Leecher opens the door and asks Liv, a beautiful sandy-haired woman who’s in here for attempting suicide after she found her fiance in bed with her mother, to hold the door. When we all get into the corridor I amble behind everyone. We begin to get close to the cafeteria, and I can hear the schizoids talking about what they’re going to eat as if they’re children chirping about what they’ve asked Santa for.

When I walk through the food line a plump gray-haired woman asks if I want the chicken steak. I nod my head and she sloshes something brown and glutinous down on my tray. I force a smile and continue down the line where there is green chocolate pudding supposedly for St. Patricks day, but I just think they forgot to refrigerate last week’s leftovers. I pick up the strawberries with the least amount of fuzz I can find. Then I take a small package of crackers which I hide in my robe pocket for later.

I sit down at a table in the corner and begin picking at my strawberries. Mrs. Leecher walks up to me as I’m scratching the fur off of a strawberry. “The doctor needs to speak with you after dinner Edgar,” Mrs. Leecher smiles putting a hand on my shoulder. I nod at her popping the strawberry into my mouth.



I walk back into the “living room” as the nurses and pinheads call it, then I stroll over to the doctor’s office and read the name tag next to his door, “Mr. Veitenheimer,” I whisper aloud. Well I can see why they just call him the doctor. I knock three times then the Doctor quickly says, “SHH! Now come in.”
I open the door and he makes a rapid arm movement signaling me to close the door. The doctor is hunched over at his computer, his thin round glasses balancing on his nose. He’s playing online solitaire. I take a seat in front of him, my knee shaking with anxiety.
“Mr. Monterra, I’ve got good news,” Mr. Veitenheimer booms. “We have a theory on how we can stop your night terrors, because therapy definitely isn’t working. How many days has it been since you slept?
“I sleep sound every night. I don’t know what you are talking about,” I lie.
“Now now, Edgar everyone here knows you barely ever sleep,” the Doctor smiles.
“Four days. I just can’t have that dream again it’s driving me insane. Look,” I scratch my head and a clump of hair comes out. “I’m going bald because of this wretched dream!” I sob. The Doctor hands me a box of tissues and I take one wiping my eyes and nose.
“Edgar we can make those dreams stop. All you need to do is sign this form and we can take it all away,” Mr. Veitenheimer coaxes holding a form out to me. I reach over and pull the paper out of his bony fingertips. I skim over it and ink the bottom of the page with my name.
“Okay Mr. Monterra we’ll begin your treatment first thing tomorrow now please in the meantime try to get some sleep,” the Doctor smiles warmly.



That night I had such a war with myself but I still refused to sleep. I began to hallucinate from my lack of slumber. I started seeing shadows in my room and hearing whispers. It sounded like buzzing in a tunnel. The shadows were walking around my walls whispering and waving at me. I stared at them wondering if they could see me too. I laugh and wave back. The shadows hold hands and sway back and forth all around my room and I just smile in awe.
Suddenly they aren’t whispering and waving, they’re screaming and begging for help. These horrific blood curdling screams make my eyes water and my body shake. I look down at my hands and they’re covered in a deep red liquid. Blood is all over my hands; I scream silently wishing to make sound. There’s only one way to turn this all off and I know it’s what I have to do.
I scramble to my bed on my knees leaving blood behind me. I grab my pillow and reach deep inside at the bottom. I feel the pills with my fingertips then scoop them all up and set them on my bed. They’re drenched in innocent blood sitting there taunting me, “Murderer, murderer,murderer, murderer,” the pills whisper harshly. I throw all of the pills into my mouth then run into my bathroom and turn on the faucet to chase the pills. All nineteen fly down my throat and I gasp for air. I reach down to turn the faucet off but it’s now a stream of bright red blood. My head begins to feel light as a feather and I can feel myself falling.



I wake up to birds chirping and sunlight warming my face. I flutter my eyes open and breathe in deeply. I’m at my mother’s home. “Maybe she got out of the hospital and they sent me home” I think leering at the lake. I take in the sweet yet rancid smell of the green sparkling lake. The hammock I put up two years ago is softer than I remember but I have to find my mother. So I gather myself and walk inside unsure of this all.
I go to the stairs and hear footsteps, “Mom?” I call out. The footsteps stop then slowly come towards the stairs going faster and faster. Then a green, stale skinned, bristle haired troll appears with a look of hunger in it’s eye. I sprint down to the only safe place I know-the cellar.
I get to the cellar and lock it just as the hideous creature arrives. I hear it pounding on the metal door making disgustingly terrifying noises. I can tell it’s enraged, but I just have to hope there isn’t too many more.
I look around for something to defend myself with when I see a small door. I grab a pair of hedgeclippers and walk over to it. I begin to reach for the door handle when I hear something upstairs.
Something hard and sharp is pounding at the lock, trying to loosen it or break it off. My heart pounds inside my chest, “This is life or death, Edgar, be brave.” I grab the door handle and broach it, but all that is there is darkness.
I hear the door clang then the light from outside is shining on my face, the creatures have found me. They sprint down the stairs in such a disturbing way that there are no words to describe it. I panic and lunge out into the darkness.





I jolt awake in a basin of blood that is not my own. Screams and cries fill the room, I look around and there are bodies all around me some dead but most barely breathing. The two-sided metal doors are shaking with force coming from the other side. “Edgar! Unlock the door. Police open up!” a stern voice shouts.

I start shaking vigorously. I’ve murdered all of the disgusting souls and workers. I stand up and look on the floor when I get a burning in my throat. I bend over and vomit on a body. The whole second floor reeks of copper and feces.
I walk over to the door where the officers are still shouting and pounding on the door; I reach for the handle to accept my punishment when it slams into my face. I fall over backwards and see the ceiling spinning. Officers surround me pointing Glock 22s at my body. I laugh, “Please. Shoot me, that’s all I’ve wanted since I got here. I want my suffering over, there’s obviously no way to help me. If you don’t do it now then it’s only a matter of time before I finish the job myself.” The officers are standing still pointing their firearms at me. I scream a psychotic scream and spring at the nearest officer knowing my fate. That’s when the first bullet hits me.
The first is in my calf, my stomach,my shoulder then bullets are penetrating my flesh everywhere until I finally lay there limp. I can feel the warmth of my blood pooling around me. Sirens are buzzing all around and people are still crying out for help. I smile as a tear rolls down my cheek then dwindle peacefully into eternity.