They have kept us here for a year now, exactly one year ago, they told us it was just a regular procedure that we have to undergo and we’d be released in a matter of days.
They put us through test after test, and it seems like they haven’t found what they’re looking for. I don’t think they even know what they’re looking for. I have to start my own journal to record everything that’s been done to us here because we’re now prisoners, they don’t even allow us to have our own pens and papers, let alone a notebook. I hope someday, someone will find this, so everyone will know what happened here.
They try to convince us that we’re crazy, after a whole year in this madhouse, I’m starting to doubt myself too. All I know, all of us here, the twins, we’re special. Each and every one of us has a unique ability that is beyond the understanding of the science people, the doctors, they couldn’t find anything wrong with us, but they insist on putting us through grueling tests to somehow find a scientific explanation as to what had caused our ‘delusions’.
But these are not delusions, I know it in my heart, these things that we are experiencing, are real. As real as our flesh and skin that we can touch, even though we’ve only seen it in our dreams, every one of us has been there in our own way, that place, a beautiful paradise within our reach that disappears as soon as we open our eyes. They want to see what we see, they want to go where we go, but they can’t.
I think that place is not for everyone, it’s an island for sure so rich and fertile, green and mysterious. It hides its secret among its beauty. Kind of like our beloved city before they came and invaded us. We shall go there one day, I’m sure of it. All these are just waiting periods, soon the way will be clear, soon we all will be free.
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The journal was filled with pages after pages of detailed descriptions of what they endured during the period of their captivity. Each patient put in their own entry in the notebook, they all share their own perspective and experience in the asylum. But one thing remains the same, the description of the island, and the sense that they were all going there because they were chosen. The way was through the woods, but there was nothing beyond that. They all wrote the same thing, into the woods where the lady led them to the island.
Colby closed the notebook, pinched his eyelids to ease the soars. He hadn’t found anything new about the island, only gruesome details of weird experiments that have been done to the twins. A dark past of Mofocity that might have been the beginning of the separation.