Hello everyone! This is Sir SmokesALot. I suppose you could just call me "Smokes" or something. Or "Matt" if you so wish to prefer, as that is the character that I will be focusing on in this piece of work. Anyway, this is a collaboration between XxDonMelloxX and I. Many of you might recognize her from the finished M/M work titled "Chocolate Kisses". Which I highly recommend, especially if you're into some hardcore lemon/yaoi. ;P Anyway, if you are familiar with her "Mat" spelling, you won't find it here. -Chuckle- Why? Because I'm not letting her use it here. Nyaaa. 8P

Anyway, this is our first fanfiction written together, but we are roleplaying addicts together. I am her Matt respectively, and she is my Mello. Cosplay-wise as well, when we get to that.

Before we get onto the fic, I would like to mention that I know full well the effects and emotional things that those with mental issues go through. I'm Bipolar; I've been there. Kind of. Well, not so much an asylum, wtf. Those places are no longer existent, just rotting abandoned buildings. But I've been to mental health units, etc. etc. I've met real schizophrenic people, and they're just people like you and I. With some issues, of course.

Which goes on to a point I want to make. How we portray these mental disorders might be a little fictional, stereotypical, and sometimes we might even poke fun just for the comic relief (aka, some of the delusions might be entertaining). But we still try to stay true with the disorders for the most part.

Also, the Asylum where this takes place actually existed but the descriptions of what went on in the facility aren't based on fact, they're completely fictional for the purpose of the story. You can learn more about (with before and after pictures!) the original hospital here: [opacity. us / site10_philadelphia_state_hospital_byberry. htm] Some photos and more information are located on this website: [theduke81. tripod. com/id1. html] No spaces.

/PROLOGUE: INTRODUCTION/

Far away, in seclusion from the rest of society, lies a large expanse of buildings that stretches for miles in every which way that is visible. They are large, tall, and imposing. If you were to stand there alone, you wouldn't be able to help the eerie, overwhelmed feeling that would take over you. You also can't help but feel that the buildings could swallow you whole and trap you there forever. It is ominous and yet surreal at the same time.

An aerial view of the entire property will reveal to you four different groups of buildings. There are the North and South groups, and there are the East and West groups. The south contained some well-kept cottages, a sign that some employees could be living there.

Most, if not all, of these groups of large buildings consist of elegantly aged red brick. It is a sort of gothic-like style, well fitting for the overall feel of the property.

Between each of these groups of buildings lay a web of crumbling paths and roads; most of which only consist of dirt and rocks. In between and outside of the web of roads are large fields of patchy, drying grass. Only a few sparse trees and shrubbery are littered about these fields in no particular pattern. Some of them are dead and left to continue standing, their bare and dry branches decaying and falling apart.

The entire property as a whole is unkempt; some buildings are even dilapidated to the point where they are unfixable or would simply cost too much to fix.

But regardless of the hazards it could and would bring, the buildings that are partially broken down are still occupied to their maximum capacity. Full of broken people, full of their pain and suffering that came with them. Most of these groups of people are physically sick and are herded into these particular buildings to simply wither away to their end from the rest of the population. Medical attention is too scarce here.

Those that are not physically ill are kept from the outside world inside the larger buildings, which are also crowded well beyond the maximum capacity that these buildings were built to hold.

Inside these buildings, the conditions are deplorable. Patients here are herded like cattle, some lacking even the basic necessity: clothing. Staff either did not care or the clothing stocks are simply depleted. Most of the occupants are without a proper bed, forced to sleep upon the floor in small full rooms that lack even just minimal walking space. One would have to maneuver over a tangled mess of what consisted of their fellow roommates to travel about the room. Even then, one would also have to be quite skilled in doing so without bumping and accidently waking them. It takes a lot of trial and error.

Some (read: many) patients don't even have the luxury of a room whatsoever and are forced to sleep along the filthy walls of the dormitory wings, huddling to keep warm.

Those that are too far lost in their mind or lacking just the basics of sanity are outcast from these huddles. They are instead left to sleep with no one but themselves. But even then… the insane sometimes do not sleep and reign over the grimmest of nights. Those with rooms are only just slightly safer.

There is rape, molestation, violence, and everything else that one could imagine in their worst of nightmares here. Well, mostly.

The asylum is greatly understaffed, and those who continue to work there in the first place are corrupted and uncaring. Some may even assume that their own minds might be slipping.

The janitors themselves are so few and far in between and only take care of the worst of the worst, such as excessive fecal matter or gruesome scenery. The rest is simply left there. In result of this, the psychiatric hospital holds a stench almost unbearable for those that are not used to such a smell. Most cannot stomach it.

Beneath the buildings is an intricate system of dark tunnels with very little lighting that connects some of the buildings to one another for easier traveling and access for the staff. Some tunnels are used for the sole purpose of transporting the sick patients, and others are used to transport the dead to their last resting place: unmarked graves, never to be identified again.

And in the front and center of this isolated hell is a large administration building. It features such a grand appearance that it leaves those who set eyes on it standing in awe. This building is very well kept; greenery expands far and wide in the front and back, while the cement laid in front is to perfection. It is just too perfect… a trickery, a false image of what the hospital really is, a false comfort and encouragement for the parents and caregivers of those that needed genuine care and help.

These loving parents and caregivers admitted them with the one sole wish that they would "get better." A perfect lie given to those who really had the best intentions for their mentally ill loved ones.

But, of course, there are always the people who just don't want anything to do with the impaired person and merely dump them to this institution like trash.

Here are two of these patients whose stories are about to be told, which we will follow through to the very end. We will follow them through the tough times, through the humorous times, and through each and every event that made them who they are. Their thoughts, their actions, and their emotions laid bare to us.

Welcome to their story.