my name is dean emit victim of a serious mistake diagnosed as clinically insane sectioned imprisoned and detained the last thing i remember i was being physically restrained first sensed something was amiss noticing the other inmates had cuts across their wrists my trust in the nurses hesitated instantly ceased taking medication they segregated selective mental patients once caught a glimpse of the room where theyd take them reasons why remain undisclosed a hundred volts straight to the victims frontal lobes disguised as medical tests these vulnerable people were being sentenced to death i had to escape spent night and day racking my brain insomniac but i had no solid plan one day in group therapy eventually lost my rag next thing i knew a doctor pushed me straight through a window awoke later in my bed as my mind cleared a pain in my side sparking the idea tied up without side effects shook loose the undetected shard of glass from behind my vest heart pounding inside my chest managed to slice my restraints fell down beside my bed stood up pulled off the ceilings iron mesh climbed the winding vent entangled in spider webs exited down a flight of steps ditched my hospital gown so the dogs wont find the scent felt the cold wind on my face blinded by the moonlight my mental prison escape it s all too much covered in b b broken glass after my therapist trapped in my cell awaiting experiments is this some kind of sick joke my name is dean emit broken window trapped in my cell awaiting experiments his name was doctor emit institutionalised for committing the most unusual crimes torturing patients numerous times till one escaped brought the truth to the light losing his mind but kept it top secret unnecessary methods of shock treatment no waiting list kept going till the power died or the patient did which ever came first he was a slave to his hunger within tied them up sewed razors under their skin eyes void of emotion when asked why he did it he just said the voices had spoken insane locked in a cell dementia in control of all knowledge of self day to day hed yell about the crimes like he didnt do them and theyre still taking place swimming in the depths of depression volatile living on the edge of aggression never did get a confession during a routine group therapy session when asked are you scared of the past he jumped up by the window put his chair through the glass demented look in his face guards took him away put him to bed fully restrained didnt bother drugging him up the next morning they walked in and saw him covered in blood shouldve known from behaviour patterns that this was a suicide waiting to happen life he came to hate with a passion shard to the wrist fatal attraction examining the evil deed there it was on the floor the jagged killer that didnt flee the scene broken window  window to the soul broken now his ghost is out in the open1