imagination from a psychological ward

It is sad.  That I am in a prison.  Although I did not commit anything criminal.  The only thing that I have is some psychological irregularity.  Some of them doctors, or layman alike, called me psychopath, only because they claim that I could not feel what they feel.  This is weird considering they don't seem to feel what I feel. 

So now, I am in prison for a crime I do not understand totally.  At the beginning of the prison term, I was visited, studied by a group of doctors, or should I call them psychologists?  I think my disadvantage was my language, I somehow failed to make them understand me.  When that happened, they would sometimes electrify me.  They called it still the best treatment for mental patient, besides numerous advanced pills... 

One day, I was visited with another group of doctors.  They claimed that they have a way to make a better man out of me.  Since my chief problem was lack of empathy.  They tried to humiliate me, injure me, and torture me.  They claimed that this could make me understand the pain other people are going through.  I was agonized over the whole duration they were here.  Every time, at the end of each experiment, they would ask me, do I feel pain, shame, and other emotions.  I don't understand why.  Aren't me the one lacked empathy? 

Finally, those tortures were gone.  There is a new doctor in the house.  When we first met, I noticed her quiet demeanor.  She had long hair then.  I wonder why most women has shorter hair when they age.  She talked to me with an air of youth.  She said that since I am old, and it's been 40 years, the department of mental health thinks that I could take more beatings.  They would like to release me.  But some of the human-right group thought it is cruel to release me into the society now.  They decided to keep me here for the rest of my life.  I thanked her.  It is true that I would rather be here than outside, even though they tortured me here.  The young doctor said she will be the one looking after me from now on.  I was relieved and though even if she was going to electrify me, it would still be better than those callous hands that used to handle me.  The young doctor further assured me that I would not go through those earlier treatment.  I would be supervised by the new doctor with a new treatment.  Simply put, I would write and other psychological researchers will read them and make a study of it.  I was glad, though still being treated as an ape, but I would rather be a writer with a bunch of readers.  My imagination could release me.  I thanked the doctor.