His [The Cellar sequel]

The warm air hit me as I stepped outside, the bright light stinging my eyes for a brief moment. I hadn't been outside in months. Filthy metal handcuffs cut into my wrists as the police officer pushed me towards the van.

I was being transferred to a high-security psychiatric hospital. After being assessed for weeks on end, it was decided that I have a personality disorder. I tried to explain that my mental health was absolutely not an issue but they all seemed incapable of understanding even the simplest things. I told them very clearly why I did all of those things but they just didn't get it. Apparently, we weren't to take the law into our own hands. That was the issue though, the law, it let those people parade around ruining others' lives and dirtying the world. I wouldn't have to act if they'd done something about it.

"Move it along," the officer growled. Rudely, he hadn't offered his name. I was forced into the back of the police van like a dirty criminal and chained to the metal bench. To each side of me there was an officer. The one to my left wiped his nose on the back of his hand, making bile rise in my throat. Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I concentrated on the girl's beautiful faces to calm myself.