Insane Asylums Stories Novels & Stories

I opened windows and at that time it was cold, but I couldn’t suffocate myself with her stench. So, I drove as fast as I could to the facility. It was one of the facilities my company owned. It’s for the rich who suffer from mental illness. It’s private because they don’t want the public to know about their loved ones losing their minds. I got it though because there were many prominent figures there who lost their minds and suffer from depression due to extreme stress situations. When I got there, they took her inside but not without a fight. She was kicking and screaming calling me a liar.

For some reason, I felt like he was being straight with me. "Yeah. Afraid so." "Then what is it?" I whispered. Somehow, I knew what he was going to say. "Eventually, we all go insane." There. He'd said it. I was a psycho. I could feel the truth of his words. I'd rather die than go insane. "Is there a cure?" My voice wobbled. "No. Afraid not. But there used to be a certain individual who could temper it, kind of take the edge off, so to speak. Unfortunately, she ran away."

Some pointed to where they had seen her follow while others declined noticing her. Jessica was only eleven years old when we discovered the possibility of her being retarded. She would walk the streets like every normal person but she was mentally unstable, she had weird and extreme emotions that we could no longer handle at home. As she got older, her mental issues developed to unhealthy obsessions that made her bring harm to anyone that lays finger on whatever she claimed. At first, we weren't so bothered. But after she nearly made Tina lose her life all because she laid a stupid claim on Liam. We decided to act, hence sending her to the asylum became the only option we had. She had stayed

Thanked fuck, my system weirdly purged them faster each time I took them. My body had been acting weird ever since I was forced into this place of the criminally insane. I still had no idea where I was or why. Let’s be real. If I had a choice, I would definitely not be here, surrounded by these sick fucks. They over-medicate the young girls and women to take advantage of them. What better way to get your dick wet than by using drugged-up women and girls who couldn’t fight back. I shivered at the possibilities. Trust me, it could happen, it's basically the plot of all serial killer movies, always target the unsuspecting.

I cringe whenever I hear the word crazy I feel it degrades my clients and they don't deserve that However I keep quiet. " We need your help, our son is very violent and it started while he was still a child and at first we thought his a kid he'll outgrow it but that never happened instead it kept on getting worse. We are also afraid of him now and even our business associates some no longer want to do business with us. People now speak of us as the Mafia my husband and I are not in the Mafia we built our business in a clean and honorable way. We are desperate we feel he needs help nad you are the only person who can help us"

He stood in court and claimed that I was the one who pulled the trigger, that I was mentally unstable and dangerous. The good news was that I avoided prison. The bad news was that I ended up somewhere far worse. The asylum destroyed people slowly. Everyone looked at you the same way—like you were disgusting, broken, less than human. After enough time passed, even I started wondering if maybe they were right. Maybe I really was crazy.

I bailed. Found myself in some hotel bar I’d never seen, all shiny chrome and jazz that sounded more expensive than the whiskey I ordered. Bartender gave me that look like, “Not my business,” which I appreciated. One whiskey. Two. Three. Lost count after that, not gonna lie. Everything in the room started to warp, like I was in one of those funhouse mirrors. Kept telling myself I had control—that I could leave whenever. Lies. I ended up sitting on the bathroom floor, cold tile against my back, fists clenched to stop the shaking.

He deserves better than my attitude. "I'm sure very soon, you too will get married and leave us," he continues, laughing softly. "This life, eh? Everything changes so fast." My smile falters. Here we go again. Everyone thinks I need to get married. Everyone thinks I'm incomplete without a man. If they only knew the truth – that I don't want to get married. That the very idea makes my skin crawl. Try explaining that to a Nigerian family, though. They'd rather I tell them I'm planning to rob a bank.

"Stop being such a stubborn brat and listen to me. Please give the doctor three months. There's no harm in trying. We can leave right now if you like." I remained silent and finished the rest of my coffee. Although I was willing to do anything to get out of this situation, I didn't want Axton to feel important. But he kept pleading with me, and I only agreed because he mentioned the doctor's frequent travels. My resolve had weakened, and I followed him to the asylum. The Gothic architecture gave it a creepy appearance. It was one of the pack's oldest structures, built in the late nineteenth century. I felt so uneasy as we walked in, and I ignored Axton's advice to relax. Manics hooted and gi

“But I didn’t really have much more to go on, and getting dad not to check the fences would have been like trying to stop the sun from rising. He would have thought I was insane if I said to him that my mate predicted that mum would die whilst he was riding the fence line and I was eating pizza.” “He would have thought that I was insane,” Aislen corrected. “You are insane,” Heath laughed, trying to bring levity to the conversation. “Quite possibly,” she laughed too, but it was a sad sound. “I’ve spent the last ten years hearing other people’s voices in my head so loudly that I doubt my own mind. You can’t imagine what it’s like to have an opinion on something and not be sure if it’s yours, o