Prince of Sleep

She sits in the plain room, cross legged on a bench. The bench is also her bed. Her leg jiggles. She fidgets.

Eventually she hears banging and crashing outside in the hallway. She comments on it, saying she's trying to have a mental breakdown and lose some more of her sanity to being trapped in a plain room alone.

But of course, why would they quiet down for her?

They eventually slam the door open, and the voices were two guards awkwardly carrying a body into the room. But it won't fit through the door because people are meant to be conscious when they come in, not unmoving bodies getting dragged or carried through.

They eventually sort it out, barely noticing her. Then they do, and realise how fucking embarrassing that was.

"Hi."

"We're not meant to...you know the rules."

"Yeah, but I was in the middle of going crazy, and you broke my concentration."

"How..."

"Don't think about it too much. You wouldn't get it, since you don't get to sit in a room all day."

They look at each other, then the gruffer one realises something. She waits.

"Are there...cameras?"

"No, I short-circuited the wires ages ago and no one cared enough to fix them." She wiggles her fingers, showing her nails, "With these. Very sharp and stabby."

"We gotta go, but just..say you were asleep or something and don't know how he got there/"

"Insomnia. I don't do sleep."

"We won't be long."

They slam the door.

Roommate received: Unconcious guy.

“Welcome to Hell, Prince of Sleep.”

~