Garfield Logan lay awake in his bed. He hasn't slept in ten years and tonight was no different. The restraints that the guards had put him in kept him from repositioning himself. He was never able to find a comfortable spot. He was used to it by now. He was used to a lot of things by now.
Every day was the same. Wake up. Someone would push his breakfast tray though a slot in his cell door. Garfield would eat with no cutlery. The doctors at this hospital didn't trust him with cutlery. An hour would pass. He would then be escorted by guards to group therapy. No doctor would ever take him one on one. Group therapy lasted for about an hour. Then Garfield is taken back to his cell. He remains in his cell for the rest for the rest of the day. The mundane routine was enough to drive a man insane.
"There needs to be a way to help him, there has to be."
"As I already told you Miss Roth, the man cannot be helped."
"So what are you going to do doctor, just leave him rotting in that cell?"
"No, we're going to leave him rotting in a different cell. He is going to be transferred to San Quentin."
"You can't do that! In his delicate state of mind, he won't survive in a maximum security prison."
"Not my problem."
"Please, doctor. Let me help him."
After a moment of silence, the doctor spoke.
"Fine, Rachel. The transfer won't happen for another six months. You have until then to help him."
"But doctor, six months isn't enough time! I'll need more."
"It's either six months or you give up. It's your choice, Miss Roth."
"Alright, doctor. I'll have him cured in six months."
"Those are bold words, Miss Roth. Good luck, you'll need it."
With that, the doctor left, leaving Rachel wondering how in the world she was going to cure Garfield Logan.
Okay, so this is obviously the prologue. Please favorite, follow and review! I really want to know what you guys think. And the story gets awesome, I promise.