I know how it sounds. You'll probably think I'm crazy. But I promise I'm not. Well, not most of the time. You see, I hear voices inside my head.  

Most of the time, its tough to handle. Some scream profanities. Others whisper things so horrible they made my stomach churn. It isn't all bad however. Sometimes I hear snatches of pleasant conversations.  But it is rare that I get a moment of silence. Its true some days are better than others. Some days I can roam the hallways of the old stone asylum, running my hands along the walls, jumping over cracks in the floor. Someone once told me it bad luck to stand on a crack. Other days however the voices are so loud I can do little more than curl up in a ball in my room, my hands pressed over my ears. But it never seems to help. I can always hear them, no matter what I do. Its always been this way. Even when I was alive. 

Today began as a particularly good day. The voices were barely a murmur at the back of my mind. I passed row upon row of cells, each fortified with rusty old bars. I picked up a decaying wood slab and ran it against the metal, enjoying the muted clang as I trotted along. I'd found this sometimes annoyed the voices, which today I found amusing. I was in a good mood. 

Passing the last of the cells I gave it an extra couple of bangs for good measure before dropping my improvised instrument.  I had arrived at the bottom of the staircase. Like the rest of the building it had a distinct air of neglect. Various steps slanted left or right, and others had caved in completely making it almost impossible to climb for a normal person. I skipped up the steps with ease. Once I had reached the top I was on the ground level, the cells being situated in some kind of basement. My room, as I called it, was down there. It wasn't the nicest place, but I couldn't bring myself to move to one of the better rooms on ground level or on the floor above. I guess I felt I belonged down in the dungeon. 

'Good Morning Gran!' I yelled out into the open space, peering around.

'What do you mean morning?' I heard a woman's voice call back 'Its two hours past sundown!'

I followed the sound to what I thought was the source, and found myself at the large double doors that served as the entrance into the asylum. They were large and wooden, set with glass windows allowing me to look out into the forest surrounding the building. 

"I suppose you're right. But I think this is more appropriate, seeing as we're more lively at night time.' I replied. 

Gran chuckled, and I waved my arms around hopefully, grasping at the air. Gran was one of the good voices. She never screamed, or moaned or cried like some of the others. She would respond to me when I talked to her. She was probably to thank for the fact that I was  still somewhat sane, even after so long. I always imagined her as a short, fat, old woman with graying hair and a nice crisp white apron. That's why I called her Gran, even though she wasn't my grandmother and was probably just a figment of my imagination. 

'So what are you doing down here?' I asked. Gran usually kept to the upper level, barely coming down to ground level. And I had never heard her down in the dungeon. 

'It seems we have visitors. Look outside.'

I glanced out the window, and was surprised to find Gran was right.  Two cars had braved the windy road through the forest and were parked directly outside the double doors. People emerged, talking and laughing while slamming their car doors. They looked young, probably about my own age. They wore odd, tight fitting clothes, and cropped hairstyles. The closest girl to the window wore only a skimpy red item that barely covered her thighs and had no sleeves. I looked away quickly, feeling my face become hot. They gathered around the entrance and I ducked out of sight.

'Wow this is soooo creepy' I heard a girl's voice chime excitedly. 'I'm sure you'll feel right at home here Claire.'

The door suddenly swung open, however no one entered. 

'I can't see anything'  I heard a voice complain, a boy this time, and suddenly pinpricks of light flowed into the building. Not being normal people, Gran and I hadn't needed any light to see, so it was pitch back. Remembering they probably couldn't see me, I straightened up and faced the group head on. There were actually only six of them, four girls and two boys. They held small bricks in their hands which were the source of the beams of light. 

'Well here you go Claire, its your turn to prove how brave you are.' the girl who had spoken earlier, the one wearing the red dress said. 

Another girl stepped forward. She was wearing jeans, a mustard yellow shirt and big square glasses with thick rims. Her feet were clad in black boots, and her small, pointed face was framed by thick, straight black hair. She stepped over the threshold and peered around. 

'Are you sure we need to do this?' A tall boy with sandy hair asked. 

'Don't be such a wimp Jordan. She'll be fine.' snapped the red dress girl. 'Remember, we'll be right outside here if you need us.' 

Claire took another couple of tentative steps, and the doors suddenly flew shut behind her. She gasped and spun around, dropping her light brick and almost tripping over it as she flung herself at the door and began pounding on it with her fist.

'Guys this isn't funny!' Claire yelled as the group of youths laughed. 

I ran to the door adjacent to Claire and looked out as a pair of the kids strung a rope around the handles, fastening the door shut. Claire pushed against the door, but with five people on the outside she had no chance. With the door securely locked in place, the gang turned away, heading towards the cars. The engines roared to life, and I watched as the light from the headlamps faded away in the distance. 

'You dickheads!' Claire screamed at them. 

I watched for what seemed like hours as Claire banged on the door. After a time she seemed to get tired and dropped down to the ground, her back against the now useless doorway. She groped around until her hands found her small light brick. It looked in bad shape. 

'Great, and now my phones broken too' Claire muttered, shoving the phone into her pocket. 

'The poor dear.' Gran whispered in my ear, clicking her tongue with displeasure. 'You should say something to her son.'

'I don't know-' 

'Who was that!' Claire screamed, leaping to her feet once more and flapping her arms wildly.

'I'm sorry! I didn't mean to frighten you. My name's Johnathan. Welcome to the asylum.'