I lost track of the days – possibly weeks - I spent in confinement. Nobody ever opened the doors. Whoever engineered the whole isolation room had been one smart cookie. Heavily padded walls, floors and super-high ceilings prevented a patient from possible escape and the door worked by palm print scanner. A small, porcelain toilet sat in the corner, with an equally small sink positioned over the tank. What water I used to wash my face and body ran down into the tank, to be used for flushing later.

A small slot, about the size of a pizza box sat in the middle of the door and that’s what they used to slide my three meals a day through.

Before abandoning me in my current hellhole, someone had attached a metal cuff bracelet to my wrist and every twelve hours, a needle slid out and administered my meds. I’d tried everything I could think of to pry it off my wrist. Excluding amputation, it wasn’t going anywhere.

Technological advances never ceased to amaze me. How did one small, almost dainty wedge of metal contain so much medication? And how did it clean the needle after each use? How many doses was it designed to hold? Where did it store the meds? The questions were endless.

Dismissing the bracelet mystery, I peered down at the paper plate holding the bland ham sandwich and literally felt bile rise up into my throat. I couldn’t force myself to choke down another damn sandwich. On the bright side, I’d probably lost weight, but at what cost? I figure I’d dropped a good ten pounds of muscle as well. With nothing to do but stare at the off-white décor, I’d spent each waking moment reliving every episode I’d blamed the demons for.

Along the countless scenarios of dead cats, gutted dogs, headless birds and one strange occurrence of a dead skunk in my therapist’s car trunk, I recalled each and every second. I’d never been unconscious before one of those gruesome events nor lost any time afterwards. So, my deep-seated need for answers just elicited more questions.

Tossing the paper plate onto the floor, I lay down and curled my body into the fetal position.

How long have I been in here? I asked inside my mind. I’d not heard anything from the demons since the angels evicted the evil Master. The good guys had been just as quiet. Had it not been for my present situation, the silence would’ve been a blessing. But by being locked away from the world, I had nothing but the voices in my head. Since they’d gone radio silent, I felt empty and lost.

Please. I called softly. Nothing but silence met my plea.

A loud beep signaled the silent whoosh of the door and I jolted upright, sliding my back as close to the marshmallow-textured wall as I could manage. My heartbeat raced in a breakneck speed and a cold sheen of sweat erupted from every pore on my body.

“Hello, Penny,” Dr. Miller greeted me as she stepped into the room. She looked exactly the same as when she’d left me here, so not too much time had passed. My eyes went to the little overnight bag she carried and then back to her in question.

“I brought you some clothes,” she explained and set the pink bag on the foot of my bed. “I think you’ve been in here long enough. It’s time to come out and resume your therapy,” she added and leaned a hip on mattress.

“But, I killed Liz,” I argued. “You can’t let me out.” Fear, fresh and excruciating rose to fill my chest.

Without rhyme or reason, ‘tis time for the season. You’re needed in your place, someone else cannot occupy your space. He will come for you.

A foreign voice taunted inside my head. I’d never heard this particular one before and couldn’t get a feeling as to which side it belonged to. But once it delivered the ominous message, it slithered away like smoke on water.

“Penny?” Dr. Miller reached out and gently caressed my forearm and for a brief moment, I smelled coconut and cherry chapstick. “Liz committed suicide, you didn’t kill her,” she explained. “We found a note under her pillow.”

I was so uncomfortable with her touch, my skin actually crawled, but I didn’t pull away. My mind had a hard time comprehending what she’d just told me.

“Then why am I in here?” I asked, my voice nothing more than a whisper. A heavy weight settled on my chest and I struggled to breathe. “Why did you restrain and sedate me?”

A/N: Please don't forget to vote!