An Illusion?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
I had thought I won't post it here...but then I thought I I did.

Submitted: December 28, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 28, 2011




An Illusion?


I am surrounded with every kind of folks but those in spotless whites suggest that the others are nothing but an illusion. Even on trying as hard as I could, I failed in explaining to them the fact that I no longer understand what an illusion is.


I tried convincing them that I have a life where I have a husband who I strongly suspect suffers a dissociate personality disorder, a sister-in-law which is after my life, my marital house that I am not allowed to call mine and probably a child. I am not sure if I have a child or not though and if I have, I am not sure if I am his mother or not but there should be a child. They say it is only an illusion and I don’t have any of that. They say I am single and I never even have been in a relationship. To be honest, I sometimes don’t consider my relation with my husband as a relationship either but who gave them the right to say that.


They often ask me, if I had a husband, why would he leave me there? I never had an answer to that question. I didn’t remember much but I am not to be blamed. They gave me frequent electric shocks. It has become hard long since to remember even the most basic thing like when did I last answer a nature’s call. Maybe I have an Alzheimer’s disease.


Whenever I tell them that I wanted to visit my husband they would give me electric shocks, so I stopped talking with them. Now they come to give me food, take me to the washroom or take me to have a bath or a walk now and then. They had locked me up in a dark cell as a punishment a certain time ago when I attempted on running away for a fifth time.


I partly liked being in my cell. Sometimes, my husband’s and my child’s memories cover me with their warmth. I sometimes wondered when he would come to take me back home. The last day with him that I remembered was pretty much pleasant and warm. I couldn’t point out anything that he could use to hate me so much to send me in this hell.


From time to time, some people come and sit outside my cell’s bars. They seem pretty familiar to me but I could not remember their names. When they would come to meet me, I would sit near to them from within my cell and stare in their eyes. They would stare back at me and sometimes run their fingers through my hair. I felt like talking to them, but I no longer remembered how to speak.


One thing I liked about my two frequent visitors was that they brought me different chocolates and blue flowers. I remembered liking them. I know I shouldn’t accept gifts from strangers but they seem so familiar it felt impolite to say no and by the looks in their eyes, they looked like they loved me. I thought of asking them to help me out of that prison, but then I didn’t, I didn’t want more electric shocks.


My visitors constituted a very pretty woman and a very handsome man. Anyone could have easily fallen in love with him but I did not; not only because I was married but also because I felt sisterly love towards him, towards both of them. The woman brings her child along with her too. I liked the child’s company the most. He seemed to like me too.


There was a pattern of the visits I get. The woman came after I had taken twenty one meals and the man came after I had taken nine meals. He brought my favorite cashew nut chocolates every time. He must know me well.


I counted the meals I had taken after their last visit. It has been three meals since the woman came and nine since the man came. So that means he was going to visit me today. The scariest of the white wearing people came to get me to have a shower. I cleaned myself carefully so that I looked fresh. I wore the clean one of my blue asylum tunics. I really liked those. I felt like a child in them. I combed back my hair in neat bun and headed back for my cell with my escort.


I sat on my bench patiently waiting for him to come. I had grown to like his visits. I sat in front of my cell bars with my legs crossed. He came and knelt in front of me. I smiled on seeing him.


“Hello.” He greeted me and waited a moment for me to reply. He always did it and I never paid attention. This time I decided that I wanted to be polite so I smiled in response. His eyes grew wet and a tear trickled down his eyes. I wondered if I had done something bad and got scared that I was going to be punished. He caressed my cheeks and gifted me the chocolates and the flowers he had brought me.


I kept the chocolate neatly in my tunic’s pocket.


“Aren’t you going to eat it?” He said and I looked up in his eyes. He really wanted me to eat the chocolate he gave me. It’s not that I didn’t want to eat it right away, I was just being polite. I opened up my chocolate’s wrapper and offered some to the man in front of me. He shook his head and I shrugged and licked on my chocolate. He watched me lovingly.


“You know baby, I bought a land for the institution I wanted to open finally. It’s a large land in an ideal area.” I wondered how it was concerned with me, but to make it seem polite, I pretended to give him some attention and tried to look interested; not that my being un-interested would stop him anyways.


“Sarah is five year old now; she is really naughty, much as you were. I wanted to bring her here but…” He stopped before completing his sentence. I pretended not to hear. He ran his fingers through my hair. It felt really good when he did that. It felt as if I could remember that touch. I just didn’t know from where. As I could remember, when my husband used to run his finger through my hair it didn’t used to feel like this. It used to feel brutal.


“You don’t remember us even a little?” He asked with pained eyes. I couldn’t do anything to soothe his pain. As much as I tried, I couldn’t remember anything. I put a hand on his laps and smiled in reassurance anyways. He just smiled in return.


He talked about many things, especially about this Sarah. She must be his child. He loved her dearly.


“Mr. Atkins.”  Said the doctor who was handling my case; as a reflex I hid in one corner of my cell. They didn’t move from their place obviously ignoring me as usual. It felt bad that they did not notice me.


“How is she progressing Doctor?” My visitor asked in a pained voice.


“She has not been talking about her imaginary family anymore but she has not been talking at all. So, my guess would be that she has gotten scared of us.”


“What should we do?” My visitor asked between a sob.


“I am sorry Mr. Atkins, I don’t have much hopes about her.”


“Can’t I take her home?”


“I am afraid I can’t allow that.” The evil doctor who gave me shocks said adding up a request for Mr. Atkins to meet him in his office.


I heard my doctor leave.


“Goodbye Christine.” He said and waited for my reply. I kept silent and hidden in my safe corner.


What really can be an illusion? Why must they think that what maximum people think real is real? I can see another reality and I am given shocks. It is not fair. My eyes roll towards back of my head. I landed up in what they call seizures.

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