I don’t like it here…
The room is cold and claustrophobic. The walls seem to close in on me if I look at them for too long – which is kind of hard, saying that all that consists in my room is a bed, a desk with a chair and those damned fucking four white walls.
Hardly anyone ever comes in here. Anyone except the nurses, wearing those infuriatingly white uniforms (They really like that colour don’t they? It drives me mental, hurts my eyes). They stare at me as though I’ve grown an extra head and don’t even attempt at starting a conversation. All they tell me is that I’ll be in here for a while – a month, a year perhaps. It depends on my ‘progress’ as they put it. I don’t understand what the fuck they’re on about but they assure me I’m doing fine. Whatever…
After a few weeks of being here and eavesdropping in conversations I shouldn’t be listening to, I’ve learned three things:
– I’m on Ward 3, Section A
– I must be monitored every two hours by at least two qualified members of staff
– And I require electro-shock therapy as part of my psychological treatment
I know I’m not insane. I do. I know it. They tell me I’m gonna get better with time and care but… I don’t need to be looked after, do I? I’m fine. Perfectly fine! They shouldn’t be wasting their time on someone who’s sane. It’s pointless!
I don’t want to stay here anymore! I want to go home!
I don’t know where I am or what I’ve done to deserve this!
God fucking dammit! There is nothing wrong with me, you sick bastards!
I’m not insane!
I didn’t kill my fucking sister!
The nurses are running in now with the orderlies. Oh fuck, the needles, not again. My body writhes and struggles out of instinct and I lash out at one of the orderlies and scratch down his face. But I mean, come on, who would blame me. It’s not fair. I don’t need this, I’m fine.
I feel myself slipping into unconsciousness as the world around me fades into shadows. I enjoy this part of passing out. It’s comforting. Endless oblivion, complete weightlessness. I feel numb but, hey, at least I don’t have to look at those walls anymore! The dark envelopes me as though it’s my shield away from the world. Sleep is the one time I can relax. At least until I start dreaming…
I never used to have night terrors like so many others however, now, they seems to be making up for lost time. Ever night, after drifting off listening to the cries and the screams of the patients, those faces will constantly appear and torture my poor fatigued mind. They’re never clear so I can’t identify the figures in my nightmares but, my God, I feel like I’ve seen them somewhere before. I just can’t put my finger on it.
Their terrifying visages will morph into that of demons – mouths ripped open wide in a silent scream, eyes bulging, blood dripping from their sockets. I can never move in my dreams. It’s like sleep paralysis but I’m not awake, far from it. I’m left competently defenceless as they crawl all over me, bearing their inhuman features and dragging their nails down my chest, tearing through the skin and muscle to reveal my rib cage. It’s always the same dream as well. I’m laid on a bed, assumedly in my room, it’s nighttime and I can’t see anything except the hazy outlines of a door. I feel like I’m going to fall into sleep when the door opens. I hear a muffled voice, feminine, telling me to come with them. My body obeys and I follow the strange woman out of the room.
The setting changes to that of a forest. There’s no light, excluding the moon hanging high in the sky above us. This is when I become paralysed. All is silent until there is a sudden snap behind me. Obviously, I can’t turn around so my other senses go into overdrive. I hear the wind whistle around me, even my own heart beat at a fast rate but other than that, it’s silent once again. My eyes – now accustomed to the dark – make out a shape in the blackness. Upon further inspection, it’s a girl. Standing around 5′ 7 with blonde shoulder length hair. She’s just stood there staring at me, it’s fucking unnerving.
After a while she’ll move towards me and this is when her face becomes blurry and starts to transform. She’ll grab my upper arms and force me down to the woodland floor, roots and rocks jabbing into my spine. I cry out but still can’t move. Moving down to my level, she’ll crawl up my body to straddle my abdomen and move her hand to my cheek. Hyperventilating now, my breaths start occurring more rapidly and much more shakily. She says something I can’t make out and then lets out a little giggle. Grabbing my throat, she drags her sharp nails down from my neck to my lower stomach. Even though it’s just a dream, it’s agony. This appears to amuse my attaccker and she starts to laugh uncontrollably. I scream and try to move but can’t. Fucking can’t! All I see is red emerging from my body and a hint of white skeletal bone. At this point the woman above me is practically howling with laughter and she rests her head on my shoulder. When she eventually moves back into her upright position, she’ll smirk and reach deep into my chest cavity and pull out my still beating heart. This is the time I’d usually wake up, sweat leaking out of every pore, screaming my lungs out. But now, as I spiral deeper and deeper into unconsciousness, my dream continues. I cry out in absolute torture as the woman above me, sighs deeply and says in a calm yet angered voice,
“You know, I never betrayed you. You brought this on yourself, Hun. Now… they can all turn their attention to me. Congratulate me. Get down on their fucking knees and worship me!”
She shrugs and runs a bloody finger down the side of my face and smiles. My broken body slowly drains what remaining life I have left. My vision darkens.
“This isn’t jealously, my angel, this is justice. This is for your own good. I love you Jenny!”
Jenny. I know that name.
Jennifer West. My sister. My dead fucking sister.
How could anyone do this?! Jenny was a goddess. Everyone loved her. They would always admire her and do whatever she saw fit. Everything about her was amazing! Her laugh, her smile, her oh so angelic face. No one would hurt her. No one.
I’m awake now but I’m not screaming like I always do. In fact, I’m laughing.
I get up and walk towards small desk I have in my room. Hunching over it, my laughter only intensifies. I can’t control myself. My whole body is shaking and convulsing as I drag my nails down the wooden desk. I stop laughing for a moment to acknowledge what I’d done. I look down at the scratched wood. Long incisions mark the table. Wow, I never knew my nails were tough enough to do that!
Only then do I reflect on my words and finally understand. Looking down at my nails, I see blood coating the underside of hard surface. Not exactly fresh blood but blood all the same. Weird, I haven’t cut myself have I? No.
Hm, funny. It kinda reminds me of my dream. But I knew I couldn’t do this! I love my sister with all my heart! She is perfect. I never really minded being number two and always living in her shadow because, well, I adored my sister. She deserved the attention much more than I did. Much like anyone else, I envied her but that’s the same with all younger siblings isn’t it? Rivalry. Always wanting to be better. Right?
I didn’t kill her. I didn’t kill my sister. I couldn’t. She was an angel.
But some angels have to fall, don’t they?