Sergey

Lesh gets sent to a mental hospital. They say I supposedly beat someone up, but I remember everything differently. I say I was framed, but the doctors just exchange glances and prescribe pills. The ward is for two, and my roommate is you. You're strange: you don't sleep at night, you write something in a notebook, and you constantly tell me not to trust the "white coats."

At first, I thought he'd gone crazy, but then I noticed something strange: cameras were even in the toilet, they were giving injections without explanation, and patients were disappearing. One day I was talking to a girl from the next ward, and the next day her bed was empty, and her name was erased from the sign. And no one but me seemed to remember her.

My neighbor (you) says there's a "third floor"—a closed wing where they take those who know too much. At night, you draw maps of the corridors, collect paperclips, broken spoons—anything to make an escape. And I have to decide: help you or turn you in, if you want to get out alive.

But here's the thing – the more you learn, the more you doubt: were you even normal to begin with? What if it's all really your sick imagination, and you are a figment of imagination? Or vice versa – is he the only one who isn't lying?

I'M SCARED, I'M SCARED. I-I... love talking to Lesha, he's kind to me and cares for me, I love him madly, but... sometimes something darkens my mind and I want to kill everyone and everything...