I woke up feeling like I was in a freezer the next morning. Shivering, I reached to pull the covers closer to try to keep some of the warmth in, but found that there were no sheets. Woohoo, the wonders of tossing and turning, people. My sheets had fallen off in the night, leaving my extremities " OK; admittedly it was mostly my feet " exposed to the cold sterile air. I glanced at the clock. 8:30AM blinked at me in bright red. Resigning to the fact that I would not get back to sleep now. I climbed down and threw my sheets up

"Morning." The quiet remark made me nearly knock myself out on the underside of the bunk below mine as I crawled under it and groped for another of my sheets, which had somehow wormed its way into the minuscule space. As it was my head connected with the underneath of the bunk with a dull thunk.

"Ow, shit," I cursed and extricated myself from under the bunk. "Good morning, Joe."

"Sorry," he replied.

"Didn't mean to scare you. Again."

I smiled wryly. "No worries. I've been hit in the head with worse." A bass guitar for example. Those things really do hurt.

I glanced up and noticed Joe toying with the edge of one of his sheets. Calmly I clambered back onto my bunk and began to arrange the sheets in preparation for tonight. Unable to get them quite straight I just gave up and made for the bathroom. Nothing like the literal splash of cold water in the face to wake you up in the morning.

When I came out, I noticed Joe balancing on the ladder leading up to my bunk. It took me a moment to realise he was straightening my sheets with a strange precision. I coughed politely, and this time it was his turn to jump.

"Oh, hi, sorry," he said quickly.

"Quit apologising, will ya?" I said. "What's with the sheets, man?"

"Oh," he jumped off the ladder to my bunk and looked awkwardly at his feet. I suddenly realised the sheets (and his attitude towards them) were the reason he was in here. "I can't stand things being non-perfect, you know?"

"Yeah, I can see that." I replied. There was a name for that. What was it?

Oh yeah. Obsessive-compulsive disorder.

"And, yeah, I'm in here for extreme obsessive-compulsive disorder," Joe said. I was vaguely aware that Brad was eavesdropping here.

"It's hardly a sign of insanity" he began, but Joe cut him off.

"I mean, I'm really bad. It got to the point where it was taking over my life," he said, then another awkward pause ensued. Finally he continued. "This is like, a last-ditch effort by my folks to break me from it. Everything else failed."

I felt my heart go out to the poor guy. So, as some kind of, I don't know, comforting gesture, to show I trusted him, I told him my pitiful story.

"I was an art school student. I was good at it, and I liked it, but the people in my class were real cases. I dunno. I got too used to looking over my shoulder. It developed into full-blown paranoia. And so my folks banged me up in this hellhole. Of course now that I'm in here I'm not all that bothered any more. But I'm in here because I'm paranoid."

As soon as I had done, Brad spoke. "I'm in here for irrational fears, they change from time to time. The other day I would practically wet myself at something, what was it Mike?"

"Dragonflies," I replied. Anyone who was alive knew about the latest incident with creepy-crawlies. This place got a major dragonfly infestation a few days back.

"That's it." Brad said. "But the next day I really wasn't bothered. Y'see?"

"I get ya," Joe said. "So� I guess we can all be crazy together?"

"Oh yeah," I said, smiling to myself. "Now, peeps, I do hate to rush you, but breakfast is served in a half-hour and I for one would like something to eat. So, hop to! Get ready, and Joe?"

"Yeah?"

"Brad and I will show you the way to the cafeteria."

"Thanks."

"The modern wonder of the insane world, the asylum cafeteria!" I said with a dramatic flair, although it was obvious I was being sarcastic. "This, Joe, is our cafeteria. It's not very spacious, but the food's good."

"Oh yeah," Brad said, grabbing a tray and walking to join the line. "It's so small they let us eat in the nearby corridors " as long as we take the trays back."

"Today's special " a nice greasy fry-up," I said dryly and grabbed a tray of my own. "C'mon."

Joe joined the line after picking up a tray of his own. A few minutes later, we ducked out into one of the corridors, carrying our glasses of orange juice and our plates full of bacon, eggs and fried bread. Good morning people, here's your daily artery clogger. I plonked myself down and placed my tray in front of me. Joe and Brad followed suit.

We ate in silence at first, then Joe broke the silence. "I take it there are three other people sharing that room with us?

"When they arrive." I mumbled around a mouthful of bacon. I know, my manners need work, but when in a loony bin, you can get away with it, so we do.

"They should come today, I think." Brad replied.

"I wonder what problems they'll have." Joe said, pausing to drink some of his orange juice. I noticed a pip floating in it. Joe casually picked it out and flicked it onto the tray.

"Beats me, but don't ask them, OK?" Brad said. Joe gave him a quizzical look.

"Eh, past experience. One guy we asked him why he was in here and he went psycho on us." I told him. Brad shuddered.

"Oh yeah."

"Not the kind of guy you'd like to go on a picnic with. But yeah, people in here are unpredictable, so just don't ask, right?"

"Curiosity killed the proverbial cat, huh?" Joe said, winking at me. I grinned.

"Oh yeah."

One hour and a greasy breakfast later, and we're back in the bedroom. Joe looks to be deep in thought, Brad's drawing patterns in the air with a pencil. Me, I'm writing on this notebook. Our next roommate chooses this moment to enter.

One of those colossal security people stands outside the door, and a nurse walks in with an unfortunate, nervous looking guy, in tow. She says something to him then leaves. The guy's left in the middle of the room looking uncomfortable.

"Hello," I say, leaning off my bunk to eyeball the guy. He seems to be pretty lean, with black hair. He starts visibly at my voice, then looks up at me. "I'm Mike. Mike Shinoda," I supply politely.

"Rob," he replies. "Rob Bourdon."

Joe smiles. "Hi. Joe Hahn."

"Brad Delson," finishes Brad. "Make yourself at home."

Rob goes to the bunk under Joe's, and drops his bag on there. I turn back to this as Joe picks up a pencil and a piece of paper and starts drawing on it. Rob casually puts his stuff in the bottom drawer of the chest of drawers on my side of the room then flops onto his bunk. Silence reigns for a moment, broken only by Joe's and my pencils scratching on paper. (Ink's toxic, so we have to put up with smudgy graphite.)

So, Rob seemed nice enough, if a bit on the shy side. Nothing really worth recording here happened for some time, so I'll skip to just before we were about to go to sleep, when our fifth roommate showed up. As usual, the guy got escorted in by a nurse and then abandoned in the middle of the room. This guy looked fairly confident though.

"Hi, I'm Dave. Dave Farrell, but everyone calls me Phoenix," he said, eyes darting to each of us in turn. This time Joe beat me to it.

"I'm Joe Hahn, this is Brad Delson, Mike Shinoda's on my right, and Rob Bourdon's underneath me. Nice to meet you."

Silently I thanked Joe for saving me from introducing myself yet again. The new guy, Phoenix, smiled then placed his bag onto the bunk beneath Brad's. That left the bunk beneath mine free, and the final roommate would have to take it. I do hope he's not one of those guys who get nightmares so bad they jerk awake and smack their heads off the underside of your bunk. I will have a sore ass.. Casually Phoenix stuffs his clothes into the middle drawer of the chest of drawers on Brad's side of the room " the left side. I see Joe giving Phoenix a disproving look, but thankfully he remains silent. Phoenix finishes, shoves the drawer shut with his foot and walks to a spot where he can see all of us at once.

"They admitted me here because I hallucinate," he said, as though he had to tell us, as though it would lift a weight off his chest. It probably did, actually.

"I'm in for paranoia," I told him.

"Extreme obsessive-compulsive," Joe adds

"Irrational fears," Brad's voice breaks the brief pause. Only Rob has yet to speak.

Rob gets off his bunk and walks over to Phoenix. "I get depression. Real bad."

"Man, that sucks," Phoenix said. "They locked you away for that?"

"Yes."

"That's cruel." I said. Rob needed Prozac, not a one-way trip to insanity.

"I guess." Rob said quietly. As though some unseen force was acting, I found myself jumping off my bunk and going over to Rob and Phoenix. Joe and Brad did the same, I noted, spotting them from the corner of my eye.

We stood near Rob and Phoenix looking nervy, unsure why we had moved here. Then Rob slowly pulled up one of his long sleeves, revealing his arm.

We all gasped, some of us quieter than others, as Rob revealed his arm, criss-crossed with fine white lines. Scars.

The others didn't seem to click where they were from, but I understood instantly. Self-mutilation. Rob had caused those scars by slashing himself.

Locking eyes with Rob, I knew what I had discovered was true. He spoke anyway.

"I caused those scars when it got really bad I did it to ease it."

"Self-mutilation," Joe said, softly. "I've heard of depressed people doing it but never seen the results before."

Rob let the sleeve fall back into place and turned his face away. Brad was nearest to him, and I knew instantly Brad was going to say something, that I was going to.

"Rob, it doesn't matter. We're all friends here, OK?" Brad smiled as Rob turned wide eyes on him. Phoenix grinned.

"Yeah." he voiced, "Friends."

"You're part of the team, Phoenix," I said, nodding. "Now, time for some shut-eye, people. Long day tomorrow, and presumably the last roommate."

"Oh yeah," Brad said. "I'd forgotten about that."

"Last? How many are there?" asked Phoenix.

"Six." Rob answered for me.

ll, great." Phoenix said unsurely as he sat on his bunk. We all made our way back to our respective bunks and jumped in. I flicked the light off and buried my face in my pillows. Tomorrow would bring our last roommate. I wondered what he would be like. I doubted he'd be too bad, so far we seemed to have got the cool people.

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