~~~~~Jimmy~~~~~

I watched in worry as Matt led the group away, while Zacky rocked back in forth on his heels, murmuring about whatever horrid thing he had seen while with Gena. Then there was the girls, who clung to each other and silently cried over the death of their best friend.

I decided to do what Matt had instructed me to, and crawled over to the small stack of journals. I carefully opened the crinkled yellow page of the first one, read quickly over the faded incomprehensible words then flipped to the next page.

I did this with the next two diaries, my aggravation growing as I found nothing out. I gave up, even though there was two diaries left, and huffed before falling back onto my butt.

"Piece of shit books. What the hell would I have figured out anyways?" I angrily snapped open one of the perfectly aged beers, and was shocked to find they were slightly cold......... but how was that?

I was in too frustrated a mood to care, and sipped on the refreshing liquid.

"Ahh." I sighed and smacked my lips, keeping an eye on the others. I waited for a few minutes to let my anger melt away, cracking open two more cold beers in the process, and soon felt ready to search through the last books.

"Jimmy? I want to go find them, they've been gone awhile." I tried to focus on who was speaking, but the beer was fucking with my mind.

"Ok.... Zacky?"

"Leana. I'll be back soon guys." She let Lacey go, causing her to whimper, and slowly walked to the stairwell door. Too drunk too stop her from going, I listened for the click that signified its shutting, and crawled to the other books.

"Need help?" Lacey whispered.

"I'm good." I broke the black lock on the front and opened it haphazardly. Thank god, this time the words were readable! I began, and at Zack's request, read aloud for them to hear:

March 9, 1971. Journal entry 7, mood: fearful.
"Dear Diary,
It's been about a week since I've written, but so much has happened since then. The situation with Dr. Reynolds is getting worse, he just won't leave me alone.

Sometimes I'll wake up, and he'll be staring at me from the end of the bed, breathing heavily as if it gets him off... And no one will believe me when I say he's a creeper! I guess that's what I get for everything that's happened..."

The rest was too faded to read, and so were the next pages. I finally found understandable margin about 6 pages later:

March 20, 1971. Journal entry 13, mood: going fucking mad
Dear Diary,
It's gotten so much worse. I don't know what to do, especially since I'm being written off by everyone I've ever trusted to believe me! Dr. Reynolds comes into my room every night, and sometimes he sleeps with me.

He hurts me too, and touches me in ways I don't like... He says I'll never heal if I don't let go to him, but I know that's not true. Mother says I can heal whenever I let to off the past, and when I realize the future is what matters most. Dr. Reynolds just says I'm a hopeless crazy bitch, who'll never see the light of day again unless I'm let outside by the guards.

Once again, the pages faded out, and I could barely make out where pages were torn and where words were scribbled out. I flipped around to the next readable page and read:

April 4, 1971. Journal entry 17, mood: ready to die.
Deary Diary,
I can't even describe how I feel anymore. With Matthew, it felt like love, that's why I did what I did, why I felt like I felt. Now with Dr. Reynolds, it feels like every aspect of my life is under careful watch, careful control.

The worst part is, everyone knows. They know what he does to me during shower time, and how he keeps me locked up during changing time sometimes so he can "release himself". How he beats me in my room, and how he fucks me until I'm numb.

I know now not to cry when that happens, because it only makes him angrier. I've tried to steal extra pills so that maybe I can end this my own way, but he even controls that! He pulls my mouth open and forces them out of my throat. He also doesn't let me sleep with clothes or blankets, probably to assure that I don't hang myself in the night.

Diary, I feel like my life is being taken from me. I felt like that when Matthew left, but now....

I turned to look at Zack and Lacey, the drunk feeling ebbing away. Who was this girl? It's sounds like there was something awful going on here back then, and all the stuff had been known about by other employees... I shook my head and continued:

April 10, 1971. Journal entry 22, mood: plotting.
Dear Diary,
For the first time in months, I actually feel good. Those suicidal feelings haven't left, I still plan on seeing that through, but Stanley has brought me the blade I needed, so now my vengeanful plan can commense.

At first, I was going to use it to slit my wrists, but now I know what it's true purpose is. This tiny little knife will be this asylums undoing. I need to find a way out of these chains, this jacket. But when you beat the hell out of the orderly, I guess a jacket is what you deserve, right?

Anyways, this may be my last entry. I plan on killing Robert last, since he is the one who ordered Dr. Alexander Reynolds to do this to me. I feel awful for doing this to Stanley, since he really is just a kid. And I know how he adores his father so, but killing Robert is the only retribution I'll get from this terrible ordeal, the only way I can let go.

But as Mother says: You can't let go until you look to the future. Hmm... Maybe I'll come for her next for not believing me. No one ever did, except Stanley that is.... anyways, this diary will be the only proof of the abuse I experienced here.

Until we meet again, oh so sweet memories.

I glanced at the others and saw the shocked looks on their faces too. I knew now who had written in the journal; "Evil" Evie Jacobs.

So she hadn't been evil. She'd been beaten and raped by a doctor here, who in turn had been ordered to do that to her by the warden. But who was Matthew? And Stanley? It couldn't have been "Ranger Danger Stanley", could it?

None of us said anything, we didn't know what to make of this new information, so we just sat and drank the rest of the beers, getting silently drunk. Drunk was not a thing I should've been right then, but my thoughts were bashing my brain apart, and I needed to silence them.

All I could think about was a poor girl, beaten to a pulp and raped until she couldn't feel anymore, getting a switchblade from a kid and murdering all those who hadn't defended her.
The ones who knew about her predicament and had stood by and watched...

But she had gotten her revenge. Her retribution, by hosting a massacre. My stomach couldn't hold it in anymore, and I leaned over and puked.

If there had been a way, a way to stop what was done to poor Evie, I wished with all my drunken heart that it had worked. Instead, an already damaged girl was finally broken beyond repair. And now she would forever be remembered as a crazy bitch who killed innocent people, when really it had been the other way around.

Notes

Just a filler, but now you know more about what truly happened :D.

Ok, I would like to get all my subscribers/readers opinions. I've been thinking about, like after this story is done, making a prequel and then a sequel. This way you can learn why she was a patient, who Matthew was, and more about her ordeal with Dr. Alexander Reynolds.

So, sequel: yes or no
Prequel: yes or no

I leave the choice to you.