Escape from the Asylum Live
by Not An Excellent But Progressive Writer
About This Novel
He woke up at three o'clock in the morning with the restraints tightened and the incandescent light bulbs humming all night long. The sound of an iron dining cart rolling over the floor tiles came from the end of the corridor-two hours earlier than yesterday. In the record book at the nurse station, his admission date was repeatedly altered, going back all the way from 2024 to 2019. The old man in the bed next to him suddenly sat up and used his nails to carve words on the wall: "Third escape, failed." He looked down at his palm. The lines were unfamiliar and the fingerprints were wrong. This wasn't the first time he'd woken up. With each reset, the water stains on the ceiling spread one centimeter toward the bed. Tonight, the water stain was shaped like a finger, pointing toward the entrance to the ventilation duct.
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