You Can't Handle the Truth

...Where am I? That was the first question I asked myself as I woke up in a pitch black room. I looked around and what I saw frightened me beyond belief. I saw red bloodshot eyes, almost watery. I didn't know what to do, so I simply ran into the blackness until I stumbled and seemingly tripped into a hole.
I passed out, only to awaken in a long, white hallway with flickering lights. It seemed familiar in some way, but how? I have surely never been here before. I looked at the hallway and saw what appeared to be stained, rotting, white walls, and there was some kind of doll staring at me, as if it knew I was there. I walked forward and turned a corner to see a door that had police line tape on it, and the tape said something like "Do not enter, Forensic investigation scene."
Then suddenly, the lights that flickered shut off, and I heard a blood-curdling scream. It sounded like a woman's. I panicked and ran towards the door in the blackness. When I opened it, what I saw was just as horrifying, if not worse than that scream. I looked around and saw that I was in a house; traditional wooden walls, a barricaded window, and furniture, but that wasn't what had me trembling. It was the blood-splattered walls, the freezing air, and most of all, the ghostly hands grabbing at nothing from the ceiling. There were so many and it was so thick, that all I could see were black see-through hands. I looked around and decided I'd rather go back to the scream then be in this room. I had no idea why, but this room was deeply rooted in my memory for some reason and it had horrified me. But as I turned around to run back, the door was shut, and locked. I looked around and saw the only way out of this room was a ladder that lead to the attic, straight through the hands. I had no choice, so I went up the ladder and as I did, I heard many whispers, faint and ghostly, but as I rose through the hands, right before I passed out, I heard a horrifying voice of what sounded like a girl's voice, and it said, "You can't handle the truth."
I woke up in a padded cell, which appeared to be splattered with blood. There was a dead doctor on the floor in front of a locked cell door. There was also an eerie TV in the corner of the room that was too high to reach. Most likely to keep any patient from using it to hurt themselves or something along those lines. But the TV had some weird symbols, and it kept flickering through channels. First, a pentagram made of blood and a black background, then the house I was in earlier, except this time it looked completely normal, then a picture of a gir-
That's when it hit me. Like a gear turning in my head, I remembered it all. The first room I was in when I saw the bloodshot eyes. Those were the parents of the girl I had murdered. Their eyes were bloodshot from crying. The hallway that was stained, rotting, and had flickering lights, was the insane asylum hallway I had walked down. The doll? That was the girl's doll that had haunted my dreams for years. The house? None other than the murder scene after I had killed the little girl. And the room I'm in now? The padded cell? I served 22 years in a maximum prison jail, then I was sent here for psychiatrical help. The images I had seen on the TV. The pentagram was the one I had made with the girl's blood, the house was the wooden cabin that I had murdered the girl in while the family was sleeping. The doctor was coming to give me a small dose of euthanasia to "calm me down." Too bad I got a hold of him before he realized I had broke the chains on my hands.
It was then that I decided. I took the euthanasia needle, found the small glass bottle holding the rest of the euthanasia, took the needle and filled it. I then stuck it in my arm. Pushed the cold venom in and let the long sleep take me. Before I succumbed to death, I heard that whisper, the haunting, horrifying whisper that told me, "You can't handle the truth."
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