the boots hurt more than the punches

In my familiar pyschwatd where everyone wants a smoke. The need forr nicoteen was overbearing. I could escape but I continue to behave. I was allowed to wear my clothes again instead of the hospital gowns. Maybe I have repeated this story but my mind forgets.

I openned a door and there stood five men looking to move me back to the small room and lock the fdoor but not before they beat me and punched the back oif my head. I went unconsciene but felt like my head could fall into two parts.

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