I was woken up abruptly by a bright light that illuminated my entire room. The sound of a church choir harmonizing suddenly began to echo and increase gradually in volume. For a minute I was certain that this was a rapture.
All of a sudden, gunshots. The singing stopped and I began to breath heavily.
I heard the sound of my parents' room open as one of them sped outside, presumably to check out the commotion. That can't be safe, can it. I wanted to tell them, whoever it was, to stay in their room and maybe even call 911. I found myself being too scared to and decided to silently pray even though I hardly believed in a god.
Gunshots again. I began to have trouble breathing, as if someone was choking me lightly. I heard the door of my parents' bedroom open again as whoever had remained hastily followed suit and ran outside. This time no gunshots were heard, just a blood curdling scream.
My younger brother, Myles, began knocking relentlessly on my bedroom door.
"Marie" he cried. "Marie, please open up. He's coming for me!"
Since when do I lock my bedroom door? I decided to let him in and search for my phone so that I could call 911. It was at that moment that I realized I couldn't move. Everything was paralyzed and couldn't even cry out for help. Every time I attempted to, the grip around my neck grew tighter. My brothers cry for help became more desperate. I did everything I could to try move but nothing. I felt tears form in my eyes. I began to breath in and out in an attempt to maybe calm myself down. Perhaps I'm in the middle of an anxiety attack? If I cool down maybe, then I'll be able to move. Quite alright I began to feel my toes, but it wasn't enough.
By this time Myles began to bang the door and weep loudly. I couldn't take it anymore. With every last bit of energy, I had, I forced myself to leap out of the bed. I landed on the floor. My body was still paralyzed but I could blink and feel my face. I thought that maybe if I could inflict pain on myself somehow, I will become un-paralyzed but just when I was thinking of ways to do that, I heard another gunshot, this time it was right behind my door.
Myles went silent.
I realized what had happened. I failed them. They were all gone and it was my fault. I began to weep bitterly.
*************************************************
The following morning, I woke up in the same hospital that I have been living at for the past four months. A psychiatric ward for young, mentally unstable adults, or rather young adults who have been deemed to be mentally unstable. The first thing I saw was my nurse, placing a tray of food on a table next to my bed.
"Good morning, Marie!" she said happily. I said nothing.
"Doctor Harris told me to tell you that he would like to see you this afternoon in his office, apparently you have been missing your therapy lessons?"
I still said nothing. This nurses' name is Poppy. I have literally spat at her and attempted to stab her with a fork in the past, yet every morning she greets me gleefully. I've concluded that she must be a robot. There's no way a normal human being can be so enthusiastic to deal with 'crazy' kids that aren't much younger than her even. She seems to be the only nurse around here who even likes her job. With her petite frame, I wonder if anyone has ever attacked her.
She awkwardly started playing with her blonde ponytail, waiting for me to respond, staring at me expectantly. I really do not have the zeal to be mean today, but I certainly do not have to deal with that man.
"I won't be late" I assured her. She smiled at me and left without saying anything else. Of course I lied to her though. Yikes.
I stepped out to grab my plate of food only to throw it in a grey bin across my room and went back into bed.
I hate it here
I hate my whole life. Why can't they just understand that I can't be saved?
