What Matters

What Matters

Status: In Progress

Genre: True Confessions

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Status: In Progress

Genre: True Confessions

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Summary

A step in a different direction
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Summary

A step in a different direction

Chapter1 (v.1) - Change

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 15, 2017

Reads: 37

Comments: 2

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 15, 2017

A A A

A A A

Three o'clock in the morning, I lie wide awake in the Bradley house, listening to the girl in the next room talk in her sleep. I don't bother trying to close my eyes, I know I will be awake for the next four hours straight at least. I shift my attention to the rain that taps on the window to my left illuminated by pale moonlight outside. It seems to echo louder with each passing moment. I take a deep breath and try to steady my racing heart. If I didn't know any better, I'd think a nightmare had woke me up. But I do know better. I Know it was the sirens. The high pitched wail that peirces my ears at the same time every night. Feeling the vibrations, I am almost sure most nights that it is real. Yet I know that it is only in my head. 

When my heartbeat steadies to a  normal pace, I sit up and step softly onto the cold floor with bare feet, and go over to the window, rattling angrily with the rain storm winds. A chilled breeze seeps through the bottom of the metal barred window pane and I shiver slightly. A sharp whistle startles me and I almost cry out at the bright light of a passing train assaulting my eyes. I shield my vision as it races past and for a second, the sirens are drowned out. But only for a moment. When the train is gone, it's lights faded into the black, the sirens gather strength and sing more forcefully. The rain amps up and I wonder for a second if it's tryingto get me, before I scold myself for being crazy. I shake off the paranoia and go back to bed, slumping down on the scratchy blankets issued to the patients of Bradley house.  My reality is mixed up with my imagination. The painted lines of my minds eye have become blurred by those put before me by the world around me. This type of situation, is called schizophrenia. They tell me I am sick, but personally, I'd rather be called crazy. It sounds less demeaning. I'm not sick. Just crazy, I whisper to the darkness surrounding me. They chuckle in reply. 

I giggle softly back, and they dance in the corners of my vision. 

Footsteps cross the light that glows beneath a my closed door. I lie back and close my eyes, feigning sleep when I hear my door creak open slowly. Someone peeks in, their shadow crossing my face and then they disappear, and they dim light returns, fading slowly as they close the door again. Marty comes to check in on us every twenty minutes. It's always best to be asleep so as to not start a conversation. All of the functions of the patients are recorded to the doctors that come around in the mornings and it means the difference between getting pills that make you drool and ones that actually help you function. 

I get the ones that make the voices be quiet, for the most part. I can still hear the whispers if I really focus. Faking normalcy can get pretty lonely when your known to be a nutcase to the reality world. Most of us here at the Bradley house are young girls that couldn't function in the normal setting of society. So we were moved to a "home" that could help us with our mental illnesses. The people running it call it a home, while the ones living on the inside of the walls stick to the term "asylum". A seventeen year old  girl such as myself should be out, dating boys, or girls, being with friends, going to trashy parties and sucking face with drunken strangers. Instead, I am stuck staring at walls that want to make friends. Most of us have come to terms, accepting our fate of being crazy. Some of us are crazy, due to past traumas, others are just plain batshit. I find myself somewhere in the middle. I didn't use to be this way. I was happy once, and normal too. For the most part. But that was before Carter came. Before she changed, Everything.

 


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