My Knife Your Back, Your Gun My Head (author wanted)

Four years. She had been waiting for her perfect ending in four years.
Four years, four psychologists and four cities later and young Joanna Jones still hadn’t got her wonderful fairytale ending. She had finally given up on calling herself Wendy; they had convinced her that her actual name was Joanna so why stick to her pet name.

“She keeps fucking writing it everywhere!” she heard the powerful male voice yell from outside the room she was in. she wasn’t quite sure what kind of room this was. If it was hers or if it was someone else. Well, at least it didn’t look like she cared about the white sterile walls. They weren’t really white anymore, in a matter of fact they were grey with darker patches and black writing all over. The room had been white one time long ago though.

She read the words on the walls out loud. Weird, she felt herself feeling a strange connection to these words.

“She won’t admit it’s her writing it! That’s the problem! She can’t fucking remember!!” The yells got louder. She recognized this voice. It was a voice she wasn’t sure if she liked or not, a voice that had caused her so much pain, but still, so much hope and love.

These four years hadn’t been easy on Joanna; she was still to this day damaged by the psychological terror she once had coped with for months. The injuries to her poor mind hadn’t stopped there; it had gone on for at least two years after the death of the main cause of this awful terror. The people moving her around, the people who had interviewed her, the people that had called her insane, the people that had made her into a kind of icon for women getting raped or violated my their boyfriends, these people had made her into the girl she was today.
Four years later and the poor girl were suffering from high anxiety, depression and memory loss. Some of her doctors would even say she was suffering from schizophrenia and OCD.

“Joanna…?” The male voice was now in the same room as the quite frightened girl. “Do you want to go out for a walk? I mean, we kind off don’t have a choice...” His hazel gaze buried itself in the girls pale face.

She nodded and took the mans hand that were now reached out for her to take it. She felt herself get pulled out of the small white room that wasn’t even white anymore. The corridor floor was cold under her naked feet. The scents of doctors and weird liquids filled her nose as she was dragged through the cold corridors full of doors with small windows in them. In some of the windows she could spot pale, scared faces looking back at her.

The cold air hit her right in the face when they finally reached the front doors. The few steps down the ridiculous stairs were easy to jump over without even trying, so she did. She couldn’t help but turn around and look at the big, old building raging into the sky behind her. The plants were crawling, eating up the walls and the windows had bars over them. In big letters over the gigantic gray metal doors were the words that would make even the strongest man in the world weak in his knees;

“Brookline ASYLUM For the Mentally Unstable”

Notes

So... yeah...
sorry for any mispellings or if the grammar is shit.