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For different people around the world, an asylum would have different definitions and different purposes. Some view it as a prison, some see it as a place of rehabilitation for the psychologically insane while others view as a safe heaven to get away with murder. I, on the other hand, see it as puzzle where i can watch and understand the varying phenomenon that affect the various inmates locked here. Once in a while I watch the officials as well but they bore me as they are not as complex and exciting as the inmates. I also enjoy documenting their experiences in my journal which also holds the pictures and descriptions of my victims. I have been here for 5 years (or maybe more for i seem to have lost count) but i still encounter surprises on daily bases. Funny enough though years of study and repetitive activities, I find it difficult to recall my real name but the nickname "Ripper" seems more adventurous to me and more common to the press so I shall stick with it for the time being.Cell Y, which is mine, is definitely the smallest cell around, but that is the least of my worries. The cell close to mine is unoccupied but I hear the land phone there constantly ringing from midnight to dusk everyday. This deprives of sleep at night so i usually prefer to catch some during the day . I have however complained about this countless of times but the ringing stopped every time a guard was sent to confirm my story and resumed when he left. So during the night i watched the darkness from my window and always imagined werewolves lurking around searching for preys .But truth be told, we have enough evil around us in reality to divert our minds from the existence of fictional creatures . I, for one, was one of them. When my complains could be bared no more, the phone was unplugged but left in the room and still, the ringing continued . I associate this with my death call the same way the banshee symbolizes the death call of Irish people . As I stayed awake at night, i always wondered if serial killers that had ever existed had nightmares as they laid their heads at night or if they were too occupied with their twisted endeavors to even encounter sleep. Also how did Jack the ripper formulate the desire to be a serial killer in his mind and what triggered this desire? I stared at the at my glowing bulb in silence. All lights inside the building had been turned off but for some reasons unknown to me, no guard have never gotten as far as my cell. When the continuous glowing of the bulb finally got me bored, i turned my gaze to the window. It was raining heavily outside with occasional lightning flashes visible from where I was. I was have appreciated some cool breeze flowing in at that moment but unfortunately all the windows had been locked for our ‘safety’. I was briefly tempted to continue reading Stephen King's Everything's Eventual, which laid open to the table, but i brushed off the idea in order to continue with my meditation.