“You lost, man. Pay up.”

“The board hasn’t made any announcements yet, we still don’t know for sure.”

“Oh, come on, you heard what happened! She freakin’ attacked those kids!”

“Yah… well… Like I said, they haven’t made any decisions yet, so you’ve got nothing to go on.”

“Yes. Normal people attack children with crayons aaaall the time.”

“Shut up.”

“Guess we won’t be seeing her walking around again anytime soon.”

“Yah, no kidding.”

“Back to your cage, my pretty!”

“You’re a sick man, you know that?”

“Thank you. Thank you very much.”
 

Why are you crying?

…. Because I’m weak.

Yes. Yes, you are.

You can’t afford to be weak, not here, not now. You need to stay strong.

… I can’t. I’m nothing but a weak little girl.

You’re not. You’re better than that. You showed them you were. You don’t need anyone.

Stop lying.

You don’t need him.

….. I don’t need him….

Why don’t I need him?

Because you are strong.

Who said I was?

You did.

I did.

He said you were weak.

He said I could be weak.

…. Because he would be my strength…

And look where he has you now.

Right where he wants you.

A crying, babbling, insane weakling.

… I’m not insane.

He lied.

No, he didn’t.

…. I lied. I told myself a beautiful lie.

And you believed it.

I did.

You did.

Please. I don’t want to stay here anymore.

But you can’t go. You have to wait. You have to wait here for him.

He’s not coming.

You have to believe!

Believe in my lie…?

Stop lying.

HE’S NOT COMING.

… You need him.

……… I need him.

He doesn’t need you.

But I need him!

He’ll take me away from this place!!

He won’t. You have to stop lying.

No, he will, he WILL!!

Look at you… You’ve lost your mind.

I’m not crazy.

I’m not crazy!!

Please. Please.

Get me out of here.

I’m not crazy.

Take me away from this place.

It’s cold and it’s dark.

Oh god, please.

I’m not crazy.

……. Stop lying.
 

Please.

Please?

You can hate me, it’s okay….

You can hurt me, I won’t cry……
 
 

… Please?
 
 

Save me.

I’m drowning.

I can’t breathe.

Please.

Please…?
 
 

… Save me, Zenki.

Save me.
 

[Case number: TE-0035
Examination recording number: 8
Physician/Psychiatrist: Isaacs, Dane Y.
Recording date: Friday, December 20, 200*
Recording time: 13:02:03]
 

“You’ve taken away my crayons…”

Isaacs: I’m sorry, Chiaki, but it seems they have become a hazard…

“The monster’s inside. You told him to come inside. I was lonely. I wanted company. Well now you have some. And whose fault is that? Yours. Mine.”

Isaacs: Who’s the monster, Chiaki?

“I told it to go away. But it wouldn’t listen. He’ll laugh at you. Laugh at your weakness. Then why did you ask it to come in? I thought maybe it could tell me where he is.”

Isaacs: ……. Where ‘Zenki’ is…?

“……. No.”
 

Stop lying, Chiaki.
 

“………….. Yes.”

Isaacs: Did the monster tell you?

“No. No he didn’t. He told me to not keep my hopes up. He says I belong here. He says I’m crazy. I’m not crazy. I’m not.”

Isaacs: No, Chiaki. You’re not.

“Give me back my crayons. I want my crayons back.”

Isaacs: …. I told you Chiaki, I can’t.

“Please, I’ll be good, I promise, just let me have my crayons. I need to draw… I need to remind myself… I don’t remember…. I have to remind myself…”

Isaacs: What do you need to remind yourself of?

“Please, give me my crayons, I need them, I need to remind myself. I’ve forgotten, oh god, I’ve forgotten the color of the sun, I’ve forgotten the color of the sky, if I don’t remind myself I’m going to forget what he looks like, please, give me the crayons!”

Isaacs: I’m sorry, I told you –

[Hysterical]
GIVE ME MY CRAYONS!!!

Isaacs: Chiaki, calm down, calm down! SECURITY!!

[Hysterical]
GIVE ME MY CRAYONS!!! GIVE ME BACK MY CRAYONS!!!!!
 

[Sound of door slamming open, rushing of feet, hysterical screaming, loud thumps and thuds.]
 
 

[Crying]
 

Isaacs: Shh…. shhh, It’s okay. It’ll be okay.
 

[Sobbing]
I don’t remember… I don’t remember…… Please don’t let me forget……
 

[Sob]
…… Don’t let me forget him, too……….
 

[Date: Friday, December 20, 200*
Time of log: 00:35]

I’m afraid Chiaki’s condition took a turn for the worse. Two days ago, she attacked the children of a visiting guest with the crayons I gave her (thankfully an orderly intercepted and the children were not harmed, only frightened), and when I took the crayons away she reacted very badly and had to be given sedative injections. She has been placed in solitary confinement again and will not be allowed the freedom to roam unless her condition shows signs of improvement, which, most unfortunately, seems unlikely. She has even begun to show signs of dissociative identity disorder.

Interesting note. I did some research on ‘Zenki.’ Turns out in ancient Japanese mythology he was a demon bound to the service of a medium named Enno Ozuno. A Shikigami. I even found an old brush painting of him. Turned out he did have red hair and red eyes, but that was typical to ‘Oni.’ I am still struggling to see how this all fits in relation with Chiaki’s case though I must commend myself on making such an innovating discovery. I should try asking her, though I doubt she’ll be giving me a valid answer anytime soon.
 

[Katshean Private Clinical Asylum; 1 Am, Saturday, December 21st]
 

The thunderous pounding of footsteps abruptly interrupted the deathly silence of the asylum as the herd of orderlies and medics raced down the shadowed hallways, lead by Doctor Dane Isaacs.

“How could the security cameras have faltered!? It’s impossible!!” Isaacs snarled aside to the short, plump security man fighting to keep up with him.

“I-I don’t know, Doctor, it just didn’t pick anything up, a-and we didn’t realize something was wrong u-until it was…...”
 

Isaacs swerved around a corner almost a little too fast, and all but threw himself into Chiaki’s room.
 

His eyes widened like never before.
 

“…. Too late,” the security man finished, huffing and puffing. He stared for a moment before he turned his eyes away from the gruesome scene before him.
 

The girl was half-leaning, half-lying against the back wall. Eyes wide, lips smiling, her arms and legs were sprawled out in the pile of bandages and a growing puddle of thick red liquid dripping from herself and the wall.
 

The wall she was leaning against was smeared with the same redness.
Japanese characters were scribbled in red all over the white wall.
 

Isaacs couldn’t say a word.
He just stood there, and he couldn’t say a word.
 

In the middle of all the writing, there was a smudgy crimson picture.
A picture of a figure with demonic features and red, red hair.
 

……. The picture was practically identical to that old brush painting he had found.
 
 

“… Jesus, Mary and Joseph….”

“She ripped open her own wounds…”

“Medics, go, now!”

“What the hell happened to the cameras?! Why wasn’t she stopped sooner??”

“She’s gonna need a transfusion fast, get the medical ward ready!”

“… That’s gonna take a hell of a long time to clean…”
 

The medics quickly approached the girl, but she reacted violently upon contact, screeching and screaming and trying to fight off the medics even with all her open wounds. A sedative needle was administered, but she did not show any signs of calming, still screaming at the top of her lungs.

The orderlies circled in, and working together with the medics, they were able to get the straight jacket on her.

The zipper was zipped and the buckles were locked.
 

On Saturday, December 22, Katshean Private Clinical Asylum declared ‘Chiaki’ mentally insane.
 

“I told you. Now pay.”

“Sheesh. Alright, alright.”

“Man, that’s just sick.”

“… Yes, I must admit.”

“Who the fuck would be crazy enough to gouge open their wounds and use their own blood to draw on the walls!?”

“A crazed person?”

“Ha, good one.”

“… *Sigh* …”

“How long d’ya think she’ll last?”

“What the hell kind of question is that?!”

“I bet she won’t make it past Christmas.”

“You’re a very cruel, pessimistic creature.”

“What, you think she’ll last longer?”

“I don’t know, but…”

“I’ll bet you on it.”

“AGAIN?!”

“Come on. A dinner. A nice one. At a classy restaurant.”

“……”

“Well? wadda ya say?”

“… Fine.”