There was nobody but me in the room. A door to the balcony was on one side, and a tiny space I could just crawl through on the other. I didn't know why I was here; I didn't really care either. Feeling really drowsy from the little sleep, I stumbled to my feet, but couldn't stand. Giving this up, I crawled into the square passageway, hardly two feet high.

There were two shapes in the exit of the passage, tall men, but I didn't see them that clearly. Then as I approached, I heard a whirling noise and just as I was about to crawl out, a chainsaw ran down the wall I was to emerge out of. Quickly, I drew back, and crawled back into the little wooden room.

Still not with it, I wearily looked at the balcony door. It was glass, with a plastic frame and handle, pointing up. Easy enough to work, I thought. So I opened the door by twisting the handle to the left. Now I was on the balcony, right opposite another. There was a pot-plant next to the door and a rail at the edge of the floor, with a foot gap before the next balcony. Somebody was there, smiling. He had grey hair and a fluffy beard, with a kind, smiling face. In his Bermuda t-shirt and jeans, he looked very friendly.

I smiled at him, he replied with a cheerful "I'm going to kill you!" and started throwing tennis balls at me. And I was just shocked, so ducked down. They didn't really hurt, but they were annoying, so I crawled back inside and closed the door. Still on my hands and knees, I went through the tiny gap, but as soon as I heard the motor of the guards, I went back, and saw the man, with an angry, inane expression, knocking on the door.

A chill went through me. There were no exits out of this room, except the one guarded by chainsaws and the balcony door. I looked at him again, pounding away on the glass. He would break it in a matter of minutes, before he comes into my room, with shards of glass embedded in his fists, wanting me dead. The shadows with whirling blades were waiting for me, for me to go insane too and camber towards them, to get rid of the man. He was still beating the glass, the same, furiously cheerful face with cold, blue eyes staring into mine. He was completely and utterly insane.

A panic went through me for a moment as the pane cracked. The man went on beating the window with the same pace, oblivious to what he had done. But he couldn't kill me, he couldn't! I wasn't going to stand and watch him eventually come into my room: I had to do something. But there were still no exits, and still no other options, other than waiting or being ripped apart by black chainsaws. I couldn't get out alive. Gods help me, I was going to die!

I looked down at myself. My helpless body shook with fear as the man cracked the pane again, splitting into a beautiful sparkling colourless tie-dye flower, growing out of a crazy fist. Mumbling something under my breath, I turned and faced the wall and closed my ears so I wouldn't hear him. But it didn't work. I couldn't close my eyes; the shadow was too sharp, too clear not to be seen. Wonderful little rainbows dotted the wall, coming out of the crack he made. You could only look at them, wobbling alarmingly as the door and glass shook more with every hit.

Tears rolled down my face: I was that scared. After a few seconds, I turned around, looking at him and nothing else. "Please!" I murmured through a tear-stained voice, but he did nothing, not even pause to look at me. He stared straight through me, while I closed my eyes and mouthed: "You are evil." He didn't stop even then, and at that I cried to him at the top of my voice: "You must be, look at what you're making me!" As I screamed this I stamped my foot on the floor, and when nothing happened, I screwed up my face and wailed. "Stop it! Stop it!" Another crack appeared in the pane. "Please! You're a lunatic! Stop it!" I felt sure I was shouting louder that the noise he made by banging his fists on the glass.

"Oh my Gods, why don't you just go away? Leave me alone, for Christ's sake!"

This did nothing. My pink eyes were now hurting so much, and I could feel my face was now twisted and ugly, with horribly red skin and vivid carmine mouth stretched out and down, into a sort of inverse-grin. I thought of going up to the door myself and punching it in fury, for him to get lost. But I breathed in deeply, wiped the wet off my face and looked at everything in a more logical way. Only then I realised that I couldn't. This was just so…crazy. What I had to do was not use any logic at all. So I ad-libbed the most illogical thing I could think of.

Giggling slowly, I stared at the top of the pot-plant, which I could just see next to the door. It twitched slightly, and then lifted itself off the floor. Sweat ran down my brow, onto already-wet cheeks. The man did not notice this and went on, hammering away at my door. I didn't notice him, though. "Please," I thought, "Let him go away. Please." This was useless, I knew, but I felt like saying it, to give him one more chance.

The pot-plant swayed slightly as I brought it above his head with my unblinking eyes. "For Gods' sakes, you're going to die!" I screamed, and then I saw his reaction. He now had a shocked look on his old face, and looked through me in terror. After looking up at the heavy base of the plant, he did not move away, but started frantically beating the door, trying to get in. His face was awful - eyes bulging open with fright and opening his mouth, as if shouting, but I heard nothing. Slowly, but surely, he started screaming and wailed and moaned not words, but sounds of inane despair. I couldn't take this. I turned my head away in slow deliberation, and as I did so, the plant fell, slowly too. I looked again and saw the man screaming, being crushed by the pot-plant, but I felt so pleased just to have got rid of him.

I walked toward the door and twisted the handle, and pulled. The door swung open and the dead man's limp arm fell forwards, onto the floor of the room. I stepped over that and around the pot-plant, then looked down, over the railing. I was about three floors above the ground, so I wouldn't be able to jump down. I could climb across though, I thought, onto the other balcony, so I stood on the bar of the railing and stepped onto the one on the other side. This side was like mine was, with a pot-plant standing next to the door, but there were a lot of sports bags filled with tennis balls all around my feet. A watering can stood in the corner of the balcony. Through the door, I saw a very plain room, with a table and chairs against the left hand wall. Opposite the door was a large bookcase.

The door was locked, though, from the inside: the handle was pointing upwards. How could he have got out, I wondered. Unless someone shut him out here, or something. That wasn't something to really worry about, though. I just looked at the handle and it turned downwards, so I pushed to door open and stepped into the little room. At that point, my anger cooled, and I felt almost helpless.

The first thing I noticed is that there were no doors here either. How then was the balcony door closed, I wondered. What should I do now? I felt a little disappointed and sat down on one of the chairs. At this point, I noticed the books on the shelves and went closer to see their titles.

All of them had the title "You are going insane" on them. I stepped back, slightly shocked, and then felt very upset. I knew I wasn't going insane! They were trying to make me crazy, just because they didn't like me and had some power over this. But it wouldn't work. I wouldn't let them twist my mind, like they twisted the man, whom I killed.

Sweating, my eyes wandered over to my balcony, where the man had lain. The blood and pot plant were still there, but the body had gone. My body shook with fear and I mumbled a faint "mmmwwrrr" as I grabbed one of the shelves to stop myself falling onto the floor. However, the shelf came loose and I dropped to the floor before the heavy wood and thick books landed on top of me.

I lay quite still, my head and limbs pounding with pain. After a while, I stood up and looked at myself. My arms and legs were violet poles, and I was thankful I had no mirror to see my face. Blood came from the top of my hands and ankles, and I could feel a small stream running down my cheek from the top of my head, as well as a few other places.

When I looked at the bookcase, then down at the books scattered around my feet, I felt a little guilty. After all, the room wasn't mine, and I didn't even know whom it belonged to, so I lifted the wooden plank, with some effort as it really was heavy, and slotted it into the little grooves in the bookcase. One by one, I picked up all the books off the floor. Some had landed open, and I saw there was no writing in them. I checked all the books on the floor: all had writing only on the front page. There was the title, and after that just one word. "Dementia." I felt very upset again and began to cry, because the books reminded me that they had power over me: power to madden me. So there I was, crying, picking up books from the floor, leafing through their pages and crying even more as I saw the first one. I looked insane enough.

The bookcase slid to one side. I screamed three times, and then curled up in a corner of the room. Behind the bookcase was a small passage, just like the one I had, but there were figures crawling out. I emitted another series of staccato screams while they stood up and brushed the dust off their black uniforms. There were four in all, wearing each wearing a cap on his head and a doctor's mask over his mouth. They walked over to me and one picked me up easily by my waist. He held me in the air for a moment, as if I was a trophy he'd won, then another took my legs, and they both lifted my body up, over their heads. Another supported my shoulders and head, and the fourth, I saw as I turned my head, stroked the wall with his palm, and the wall moved backwards. I felt too scared to scream, in case they dropped me, so I relaxed, because there was no way of escaping. I closed my eyes, and lay back. After a while, the four stopped and put me down onto a table. I was in a black room, illuminated by hidden lamps in the walls.

One of the men pressed a switch and cold metal ropes tied down my ankles, waist and shoulders. Another came forward and poured a jug of cold water over my head. I screamed: I was totally unprepared for that, and cried out. He came forward again, and poured some freezing water over my sleeveless shirt and shorts. "You sadist!" I shouted.

They looked at each other, and then walked out of the room, through a door that was out of my vision. I heard voices, saying something like: "…Can still talk..." and I only caught that bit. After a while they came back and one carried me over his shoulder into a maze of corridors, all shiny white and sickly smelling of antiseptic. A few more minutes passed, and I felt a sharp pain in my heel. I turned and saw one of the men squeezing my ankle, very carefully. It was probably a pressure point because I blacked out a few seconds later.

I was not astonished to find myself inside a room with a balcony like the others, but what surprised me was that there was a door on the far side of the room. There was nothing else here, so I opened the door carefully and stepped through into a bathroom, with a shower, toilet and bath around the walls and a fluorescent orange towel on the floorboards. After making sure there were no cameras in here, because I knew how sick these people were, I took off my very few clothes I found myself in when I was brought to the place, and stepped into the shower.

The feel of the hot water gushing onto my neck was the first thing in the last day that made me feel happy. Everything seemed to stop as I leant against the wall and let the water wash away all the dirt and insanity from my bruised body, which was still almost blue all over. For five minutes, I stood there, wonderfully warm, before a sticky feeling make me open my eyes.

Thick, red blood poured out of the shower, covering my whole body in evil-smelling substance. I screamed in shock, then fumbled with the shower switches to try and turn it off. Finally, the stream stopped, and I slumped against the grey glass shower door. I looked out at the bathroom - nothing had changed, then, a moment later, the red poured out again, and at the same time out of the plugholes, toilet and taps. I screamed, and tried to turn the shower off, at least, but it didn't work. The blood poured over my feet as I stood back and watched in fascination, then blood gushed out of the shower's plug-hole too. The level reached my shins almost instantly, so I opened the shower doors and stepped out. I screamed again, louder than ever before, when I saw the body of the bearded man bobbing in the overflowing bathtub. My eyes closed and I collapsed back into the knee-level pool that the bathroom became. Immediately, I stood up and tried to unlock the door, then, when I found it was locked now from the outside too, a chill went through me, and I began to sob. The blood-level was at my thighs now, and still flowing from the various places. I didn't even bother to try to turn the taps: I knew it wouldn't work. They wouldn't make it that easy.

"Why are you doing this to me," I whined, looking around. The only possible exit would be the small frosted window, next to the bathtub. I felt sick looking at the body (the nausea was actually only partly directed at it, the rest was the feel of warm blood touching my legs, and now my waist), but stepped on it to reach the window ledge. The window wouldn't open; the frame was glued to the wall. "Oh Gods!" I moaned, then wondered if I should break the window with my fists. Time was running out - even as I stood inside the bath, the blood was at the level of my ribs. Panicking, I reached for the body, my hands shaking, and held it, so the head pointed the window. I put all my force into ramming the head into the window, while I closed my eyes, and prayed for the best. As I heard the crack and crash of the skull and glass colliding, I felt better, drew the body back and again pushed the head into the window. This shattered and fell out, with the body which I immediately disposed of. For the sake of decency, I idived down into the red to get a towel. After wrapping it around myself, I climbed onto the window ledge and looked down.

I felt queasy when I saw the grass, many many feet below, with the bloody corpse lying amongst the shards of glass, looking so ugly compared to the grass. Then, the blood reached the level of the window and began seeping out, reminding me I belonged either there, or as an addition to it. I rolled forwards into nothing but thin air.

What a sight they must have seen as they found me: lying, clothed only in a bloodstained towel which was loosely wrapped around a body with limbs twisted at odd angles, all bruised and bleeding from the glass I was sprawled across. Still, they must have picked me up and put me here. I couldn't take it anymore now. They humiliated me, they terrified me, and they ripped me up and hurt me. They still had all control over me. At that point, I just flipped. Everything blurred, and I found myself kicking and wailing and shouting for mercy. The sound of feet echoed through my mind, then I felt myself being picked up and taken through many rooms and corridors, but I didn't care how many, because I knew they were going to kill me, and I didn't care anymore. "I don't care if you kill me!" This was my only intelligible thing I said, which was squashed between long streams of meaningless gabble.

After a while, I found myself on a balcony. I didn't care what they did to me, if they moved the floor away so I plummeted into a lava river, if the sky shot bullets at me or if they just came up to me and hit my head with a crowbar because I knew they would never let me go and that I would never escape. No one could ever escape from here. Death is inevitable, and quick.

I looked up further. There was another balcony opposite me, with a girl of no more than twelve standing behind it. She was going to die too. But I couldn't let her go through all this, could I? I smiled as wide as my lips would allow to get her confidence, but she stepped back in shock. Looking straight into her eyes, I said, "I'm going to kill you!" and lurched forward, over the rails of the balconies. She screamed and ran through the door, closing it. I pressed my face against the glass and watched her as she got the knife that lay on the floor.

"Go away!" she said, her voice trembling, and knife ready. I stayed there, eagerly watching the knife. Oh, how sweet death would be! She held my escape. After that, I stopped caring about anything, but the exit. I knew she would not come near the door if I was as I was, so I stepped back and lay down on the balcony, closing my eyes. After what seemed like forever, I heard the door open and I knew she was standing over me. I could hear her breathing. Without warning, I opened my eyes and jerked my head up, and at the same time, she brought the knife down into my flesh. It burned and stung, and I whispered "I'm going to kill you! That's what he said to me!" then dropped onto the bloodstained floor.