Page 3 of Anarchy Chained: Alpha Thomas

No. Nothing about tomorrow will be different than today.

“Thomas,” Dr. Yasmine Bates calls, once I’m in the hallway. “I won’t let you wear the suit again until you talk to me.”

I don’t even bother shrugging. It was good while it lasted. It made me feel normal for a few minutes. It made me feel sane.

But I’m not sane.

If I was sane, I wouldn’t be locked up inside Cathedral City Asylum.

If I was sane I wouldn’t have to worry about the next person to die on this floor.

Or the memories of madness that will come afterward.

Or the way my psyche will deteriorate from the capture.

Or the way I might have to scream my way back to reality.

Or the real me, hidden away for all these years, dying to break free.

No. I’m not sane. I will never be sane again.

Like it or not, I am chained to the anarchy in my head.