Stuck In My Own Mind

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Grace cannot touch anyone. She cannot talk. She is fed up.

Submitted: December 21, 2016

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Submitted: December 21, 2016

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Stuck In My Own Mind

 

Blood. Blood is all that clouds her vision. No tears. All the tears have already been cried out. Just blood. Blood and pain.

I am a prisoner in my own mind. I am alone. I am scared. They have done things to me that I will never forget. I know so many things I cannot share with anyone. People stare at me with confusion, like I am a science experiment. Something broken, something that needs to be fixed. I might be stuck, but I know one thing. I am not broken. I also know that if I get out of my prison, my cell, my mind, I will harm every single person who ever poked or prodded me. They will pay.

I have a disease called gracepiltingporphius. The disease was named after me. I could never spell or pronounce it. The disease causes you to be stuck in your body; your mind. I cannot communicate with anyone or touch anything. If I do, it disintegrates. No one can hurt me though because my skin has some sort of a protective layer on it. That means I am a destructive, indestructible, waste of air.

I can control minds, so my prison has special padding in it that I can’t get through. The scientists mutter about how I am an extraordinary breakthrough, but also a major crisis. They think I will mentally make them deploy missiles, or walk into the White House and shoot everyone in the room. They don’t know me. I’d never do anything like that.

I am so hungry. They have been starving me to find out what would happen if I went a long period of time without food. I sometimes think that that they were using that as an excuse for the fact that food is scarce. People keep on coming in recently; doing my hair, painting my nails, making me choose dresses. Of course, I have to nod if I like it because I can’t talk to anyone. At the end of this week, I was transformed. I wanted to scream at them; tell them all how I truly felt.

One day, they injected me with something that made me feel like my soul was being sucked out. After that, my hair started to fall out, and after a month, only little bits of brown were left on my head. They were killing me slowly, I realized. I became scrawny. It was to the point that it wasn’t healthy. I am weak, and I can’t focus on anything. At one point, we went through a drought, so I didn’t get much water; along with my limited food. My stomach was churning, groaning and aching. I wish I wasn’t different, then I wouldn’t be here. I know I would have to be with my mom and dad, suffering like everyone else, but it would be worth it. I miss them sometimes.  

I remember the farms, the gardens, always taking my time with my family away. They would escape down there, and wouldn’t come back for hours. I would sometimes hide down there and watch them. I could never understand what my parents saw in little weeds, until they bloomed. The flowers flourished, and I would always pick them. My mom would yell at me for destroying such beautiful things. Every time I had touched them, there was ash in my hands. My mom was right though. I was destroying beautiful things. I was three when I was taken from them.

I tried to talk sometimes, but it was impossible, for blood would gush out of my mouth and I would choke. It was just part of my condition.  I must have been a horrid sight, dried blood around my mouth, dark circles under my eyes, patchy hair, my ribcage sticking out, and just about to fall over. I wish I could communicate with people, but I can’t even talk to myself. I am stuck in my own body; a prisoner in my own mind. I torture myself with worries and questions I know I won’t get answers too, mostly because I can’t even ask them.

I am fed up. Fed up of being in my own mind, alone in my own prison, my own cell. Fed up of being stared at and treated like a doll. Fed up of being isolated. Fed up of not being able to talk to people, to touch them. Fed up. I’ve finally broke. I look back, and I don’t know why the scientists wanted me, I don’t know what they were doing. But I’m released. I decided to tell them how I feel. No more hunger. No more pain. I opened my mouth to speak. Now I’m in a pool of red. It surrounds me, it engulfs me, it saves me.

Blood. Blood is all that clouds her vision. No tears. All the tears have already been cried out. Just blood. Blood and no more pain.

 

 


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