W03H

INMATE NUMBER AND SEX: W03H, female
FAMILY, IF ANY: Mother and two sisters
OCCUPATION: Inmate at the infamous Asylum
HABITS OF LIFE: Dreamer
RELIGIOUS PERSUASION: Atheist
BROUGHT BY WHOM: Family
FORM OF INSANITY: Hysteria, anxiety
IF HEREDITARY: No
IF DANGEROUS TO OTHERS: No, just noisy when having anxiety attacks
IF DANGEROUS TO SELF: Not really
IF DESTRUCTIVE TO PROPERTY: Maybe
MARKS OF VIOLENCE: None so far
OTHER FACTS INDICATING INSANITY: Disobedience, talking to herself, spacing out

ORDER SIGNED BY

Madam Mornington

This is my story.
I started out a normal girl, if a quiet one.
My family was not rich, but we were happy with what we had.
Father was a clockmaker, and worked long days. Mother spent her days taking care of the house and her three young girls. She sang a lot, my mother did, and she loved it when we sang with her.
Both my sisters took after her in looks; they were very pretty, with heartshaped faces, grey eyes and wavy blonde hair. I took after my father, with pale skin, blue eyes and long red hair. I was slightly shorter than my dear sisters, and as different from them in personality as in looks.
They both loved knitting and cooking, same as mum, and they always had several suitors among the local boys.

I was more of a dreamer, longing to live as I wanted without needing some stupid rich husband to rule over me. This disappointed my parents, I know, but at least my sisters could make them proud.
And they did, they both got married to wealthy men, who seemed to adore them more than anything. I never got married, and my father finally gave up on trying to make me.

But then he died.
I was on my way to his shop at the time he was about to close, and I remember him turning around and smiling at me, right before the carriage crashed into him. He died right before my eyes. The next thing I remember was hearing my mum talking with the doctor, who said I was showing signs of hysteria and anxiety. I didn't leave the house after losing father, and it was starting to worry my mum and sisters.

My memory has become hazy after that day, so I'm having a hard time recollecting exactly what happened between that doctor's appointment and being shoved into a cell in the Asylum, but it seems this is my home now, for better or worse.
This is my story, and my name is W03H.