You look inside the table's drawers, and the top one is completely bare. The bottom one, however, has a journal with a broken lock inside it. Curiously, you pick it up and flip to the latest entry to read it.
Diary of the Misplaced
November 28th, 2003: They had me in another wing for a while, I guess... It was peaceful. No screaming, no fidgeting neighbors... It was like I was all alone. The walls were actually painted, and looked nice, and the ceiling was white and made of the stuff that crumbles all over the place if soemthing's rubbed on it. I had a private bathroom, and the bed was four-poster. Beautiful scenery was outside the window-- through the bars. It was so different. And then, I snuck out one night... And went to another wing. They caught me playing with the Lera'elen, but they swore they couldn't see them. I don't know how they couldn't have seen them.. But after that, they moved me back here. Or was that after I was caught ripping up my bed? Oh well, no matter. I'm back here, with the neighbor beating his head on the brick walls, screaming. It's good to be home.
October 12th, 2003: It's a wonder some of these people here in the sanitarium don't die quickly. The male in the cell beside me is constantly beating his head on the brick walls surrounding him, trying to get out... I have a drippy faucet in my cell, and the living conditions are filth. The other wings are much nicer though. I'm in the west wing, and there are three others, of course, and then there's the central building. I heard that the north and south wings are closed right now for maintenance, and all the inhabitants have been moved to the east wing. I don't belong here, you know. -Genesis