Truth and insanity
| Yes, the psych ward existed in the hospital, I soon found out, looking at the wikipedia article in some shock. I pushed back my chair and walked into my friend's office. She was seated at the computer, looking up something when I walked in.
"It still exists. Everything." She nodded and turned around.
"Were you given any sort of drugs when you spent that time on vacation from reality last year?" The question surprised me, but I wasn't unprepared for it.
"Abillify and prozac are the only ones that were out of the norm," I answered, sitting down with a cup of tea.
"I'll do some research into that. I know a few people that I can ask discrete questions of." Her fingers began to fly.
I looked around the apartment. It wasn't small by any means, but it wasn't grand, either. Somehow it felt too stuffy, too crowded, though there were only four of us in it. I explored the living room, then the kitchen. I felt a sudden jolt of fear, then of cold, incalculable evil touch my senses. I entered the study, and the fear turned to panic.
The bedroom was worse. I hit my knees, my eyes wide as my friend entered behind me. the landlady tried to force me to explore the closet, but what I saw made me turn tail and run. Literally.
In the car not five minutes later, my friend was questioning me about what I'd seen. Between sobs, I told her.
"A woman, blond hair, bound and gagged in the closet. Blood everywhere. Her throat slit and a single neat gunshot wound to her temple. She was five months pregnant."
My friend shakes her head and open a filefolder.
"You've got it down to the minute details. You're empathic. Gods help you."
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