• Small voices rang in my head, literally driving me insane. "Kill him, kill him, kill him," The voice was a girl's. I assumed she was only eight years of age, if she was even real. Another voice rang in my head, it was another girl "Do it, Sarah- cut his throat. Do-" A man's voice interrupted hers. "He deserves it- kill him, Sarah. Kill him!" I tried to blink the tears away, but they came bursting out. I glanced up at Zach, who was tied to a chair. His red football jacket was stained with blood and his grimy face was bruised, cut, and swollen. I stood in Zach's kitchen, in Zach's empty house. I wasn't sure how I managed to get in without being heard- maybe it was luck?
    I wasn't sure how I managed to knock Zach out and tie him to a chair, but I did. Zach was so buff and powerful; I couldn't even imagine my weak seventeen year old body being able to knock the wind out of him. The voices kept buzzing in my ear, like bumblebees on a sunny day. Those annoying little buzzing sounds that you just want to stomp on and kick the crap out of. Too bad you can't do that with these stupid little buzzing sounds. "Do you really feel sorry for him, Sarah? He betrayed you. He used you! Don't you want revenge?" The girl sounded furious with rage and irritation. I sucked in a deep breath, struggling to get out my words. "He doesn't deserve this, though."
    I thought aloud. I wiped my tears away, trying to collect myself together, trying to fight back the pressure. The girl grunted as if saying 'He does to, Dumbo!' The man's voice started to speak. He seemed calm and almost soothing. I ignored the soothing tone.
    "He went behind your back and did another girl. Just think of how many other girls he's probably done that to. Don't you think he deserves this for his sins?"
    "It's not my choice- or yours- to decide Zach's fate!" I roared.
    "You're weak! That's it! You're a weakling who's afraid to punish someone for their sins! Weak, weak, weak, weak, weak,"
    The two girls started saying it together, like it was some sort of song. The rhythm thumped in my eardrums, consuming every other sound.
    My head began to become light headed. I squeezed my eyes shut; gripping onto my skull, hoping my brains wouldn't fly out on the walls. I quickly sprang my fists on the counter top. I knew what I was doing; I knew the voices had finally taken control of me. I tried to force their control out. My hand shakily moved toward the kitchen knife that lay on the counter top. Hot tears streamed down my face, I shook my head rapidly trying to command them to shut up. My hand snatched the knife; I slowly eased it to my side. I turned to Zach, who was still some how unconscious. I raised the knife above my head, ready to continuously slice Zach into shreds. I forced the blade down, sinking its cold steel in his chest. Blood promptly started to pour out of his body onto the floor.The gooey liquid oozed from out of his chest. I could feel my eyes widen in excitement. I felt out of control, and, get this, evil. I yanked the knife out from his chest, slowly holding it at my side. My face split into a large wicked grin, that not even the Devil could say it wasn’t evil. I flung the knife into him again and again and again. With each stab I felt myself becoming more addicted to watching his blood flow out from his body. I started laughing- a loud evil laugh. My eyes watered with tears of excitement. I felt exhilarated and full of energy. I slung at his neck, which speckles of blood sprinkled out at first, and then poured streams of blood. His neck was slightly tilted up now. His face painted of red, and his skin swollen up with bruises.
    I threw the knife down and snatched his red football jacket off of his body, making his head wobble back down. Throwing the jacket down, I dug my nails into his skin- his tan, soft, perfect skin. I yanked his face upwards to look at mine. Forcing his eyelids open, I glared into his brown dead eyes. I lifted my thumbs up to his eyes, about two centimeters away. Smiling, I pierced my thumbs nails into his eye socket, digging deeper into his skull. I felt the retina and the optic disc go into my fingernails and then my fingers dug into the optic nerve. I guess all those years of paying attention in Health really paid off. I easily slipped my thumbs out, staring at his now bloody sockets.
    The voices were silent, and I was thankful for that. I didn’t exactly want some annoying voices inside my head pestering me of a job well done I did. Or maybe they would said something like, “Why’d you do that?! You’re in big trouble now!” Well, that’s probably what the little girl’s would say. The man’s voice was the voice I heard from the most, and he would most likely be silent. This was actually only the third time I’ve ever heard the girl’s talk. Thank God. They’re so annoying. A sudden noise came from outside the front door. I glared up at the door and then at any back door exit from behind. I heard the door knob slowly rotate and the front door sprang open.



    I sprang up from a deep sleep. I found myself to be in a rather small dingy room. The walls and floor were painted white, and the bed was not for style or comfort. I always had the same dream every night. Well, it isn't really a dream because it actually happened. That's how I ended up in this insanity prison. Other wise known as ‘The Prison for the Insane’ Uncreative name, don't you think? The night I killed Zach, his parents came home from a book club and found themselves in a harsh situation. Unfortunately they managed to snatch me just before I tried to run off, and dialed 911. I went to court and was transferred here right after they won. "Hey sleepyhead," The man's voice said. Ugh. Haven't you guys gotten sick of me? I thought laying back down on the rough pillow. The man laughed, as if my question was a joke. "We're always going to be with you," He paused for some odd reason, and then continued. "For ever and ever,"
    I grumbled, frustrated with the voices. Why did they torture me? Why did they put me in this place; this prison, this hell? Was this all a test- a sick awful test? I didn’t understand why I had these voices- these sick monsters. I wasn’t sure why or how they manipulated me into killing Zach. Oh, Zach- his coiled brown hair, his soft radiant brown eyes. He seemed so in love with me. He didn’t seem like all his friends; jocks, preps, and not to mention whores. When I was in school, I didn’t hear one rumor of Zach cheating on me. Not from my friends, his friends, or anybody. I’m certain someone would have told me- I think. My head ached from all the confusion, and anger. I rubbed my temple, yearning for some Advil or Tylenol.
    “All the answers will come soon, Sarah.” The man whispered. I wanted to scream, and punch the walls. I knew if I did I’d be drugged with sleeping pills, from those stupid nurses; and I didn’t want to sleep now. Why don’t you just tell me? I thought angrily. Minutes passed by and I didn’t hear from any of the kids. I inhaled the air through my nostrils. The smell of chemicals and pills made me want to throw up. I spat on the floor, disgusted by this God awful place. A sudden knocking came from the door across the room. I glared at the door and tightened my muscles, ready to pounce at anyone who came through. I was sick of this place. I couldn’t be in here another minute. I made a simple plan in my head, memorizing it: One, take out nurse. Two, run for any exit nearby.
    A last-second plan, and not a very good one, but it’s all I have right now. From outside the door I heard keys jangling, and the door gradually opened. I sprang up from the bed and knocked a tray of pills out of a nurse’s hands. She stumbled on her knees and from behind I could hear her shouting. “Stop her! Stop that girl!” Several men in light blue saggy pants with white shoes came hurdling after me. I ran with all my strength, soon my legs started burning and aching with blistering pain. My lungs felt like they were getting thinner and weaker with each passing second. I took big gulps of air, only chocking on my own saliva. I slammed open double doors that came in my path.
    “What are you doing, Sarah? You’re going to get yourself killed.” The man said sounding almost amused.
    I ignored the man, and continued focusing on the hallway signs. As I read a sign stamped with the letters ‘O-F-F-I-C-E’ and a red arrow that pointed right, I rotated right. A callused hand yanked on my arm and I went crashing to the floor. More callused hands came tugging on my arms and legs, trying to make me stop jerking around. One man pulled out a large needle and jammed it into my arm. I shrieked from the sudden pain. A clear liquid streamed into my skin. He pulled it out hastily and lifted me in his arms. My whole body became numb and stiff. I tried to lift up my arm, but only received a jolting pain. My vision became blurred, and my eyelids heaved with sleep. I shut my eyes, and drifted off silently.