Asylum (Part V)

December 11th, It was about 3 A.M when Alyce burst into the canteen. The canteen was empty and the only thing piercing through the pitch black darkness was the flickering fluorescent lamp. She was naked despite the chilly air and her hair was wet. She looked like she had just left the shower. Her unkempt hair whipped against her bare shoulders as she charged towards the middle of the canteen. “Leave me alone, stop this nonsense right now so I can go home” she yelled towards the camera and collapsed to the ground, crying. Alyce dozed off on the floor whether from exhaustion or desperation I could not tell. Her sobs must have echoed through the naked walls of the canteen, for it didn't take long for a nurse to arrive and tend her. Her petite and fragile body was shivering when she woke up and a puzzled expression was planted on her face. I think she was unable to recall the events that had transpired. She got up slowly and walked out, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her on the marble floor. Alyce returned shortly after, wearing a night gown. She had her pen and papers with her and she seemed quite rejuvenated . It was past breakfast time by the time she finished writing and left the canteen.

December 12th, The canteen was teeming with patients when Alyce entered. Mr. Howard was wondering about, mumbling and muttering, Lindsey was singing at her usual corner, it was just another regular afternoon in the canteen. Alyce didn't pay much heed to the activity around her, she was holding a bunch of papers on one hand while keeping the other in her pocket. She still had her night gown on. She slowly walked towards the corner of the room where the camera was located and stood right below it. Her gaze was fixed on the camera for some time. I found it hard to avert my own eyes from her unyielding glare. I felt as if she were looking at me in particular and not the camera. We looked at each other for what seemed like days until she finally took her other hand out of her pocket and produced a knife. I already knew that the patient was deceased but I couldn't help it as a shudder passed through my spine. The knife kept getting closer and closer to her throat as she lifted her arm. I desperately wished for someone to intervene, even when I knew what would happen. Her grip on the papers was locked tight. I knew she wouldn't let go of them even after death. The knife touched her throat, I felt my own throat itch. She jolted her knife, never taking her gaze off the camera. I closed my eyes shut.