"Listen, I don't know what to tell you. Just... Listen I guess."
It all started after the accident. They came to me and I never rejected them. They were just like me, outcasts, alone, and misunderstood. Something was wrong though.
"Something was wrong?"
"Yes. My memories... They, they suddenly mixed up and I couldn't remember anything clearly, there were..."
I started mixing names up, nothing too important, but still. After a few weeks, the walls surrounding me felt like they were crushing my soul.
"Can you explain it with more details?"
"I... I don't really know, it felt like a bird stuck in its cage inside of my chest, the bird growing and growing and it wanted to be free but my flesh and bones were keeping it in as well as the pressure from outside. My hands and knees trembled I-I couldn't even speak or hold a spoon at the most dificult times."
The pain from years of repressing feelings, thoughts and emotions were starting to destroy me from the inside. My world came crashing down when my father started to humiliate my mother. It was pretty violent, verbally.
"Verbal violence you say, did you tell anyone about it?"
"I did, but they said it was normal for couples to fight."
I thought about ending it, really, but then I thought "would it really make things better?". Of course not, my mother would blame herself and my father would blame her too, it would make her go berserk and have a total mental breakdown. So I just continued, as if all was normal. But then, I started to loose my hair. Lots of it.
"I can see that."
"Well, yeah. I'm completely bald."
Sometimes my mind went completely blank and I forgot about everything. Other times, I broke down, I could cry for hours, or suddenly be extremely angry. I could also have panic attacks out of the smallest things, and trust me, when I say anything I mean it.
"How were your parents behaving?"
My mother was in her own world. Cooking, cleaning, eating and sleeping. My father always after her. Sometimes a plate escaped her hands and crashed on the floor, barely missing her feet or even knives. I never knew if she did it on purpose. My father would just yell some more. Sometimes she would also have bruises clearly made by human hands but she would laugh and say that I was crazy.
"Do you believe you are crazy?"
"I really don't know."
Friends and family were just... Ghosts. I really did feel alone on Earth's surface, so I stopped going to school.
"Do you know why you keep turning around in your seat?"
"They might be behind me..."
I isolated myself in my room, where somehow mother would remember I had to eat so she would bring my meals up there. My classmates started to mock me, before quitting school of course, for seeing things they didn't. Little did they know some arsenic had mysteriously spread into the school's meals.
"What had they done to you to deserve it?"
"They abused me. Hit me. Insulted me. Humiliated me. I didn't do it though, they did it."
I had come home plenty of times with nose bleeds, bruises and some broken ribs. I am frail, different and I know it is true. But is it a good reason to beat me? My father laughed at me for being weak.
"Is that when you decided to..."
"Murder him? Yes."
I had had enough. After the tenth cigar burn, I couldn't handle it anymore. I broke free from his strong grasp and ran to my room. He followed me, my mother curled up behind the couch, having a panic attack. I grabbed the first thing I saw just as he came in. I smashed a bottle full of sand on his head, but he was strong. I crouched and grabbed sand, there was glass in it so I might have cut my hands a little, I threw the sand in his eyes. He would be blind for a few minutes, now was my chance. There was a pair of scissors I kept under my bed just in case, I stabbed him. Repeatedly. He cried out, but never begged for me to stop. I wasn't going to anyway.
"How many times did you stab him?"
"I stopped counting after the twentieth strike."
"How did you feel?"
I felt powerful. Thrilled. But I wasn't satisfied. I shouldn't have killed him so fast. He should've suffered. I got up, leaving the scissors burried deep in his chest, and went down the stairs, only to find mother dead, lying on the ground.
"What do you think happened?"
A sudden rage came in as I saw her dead body lying there, I didn't care how she had died or why. She was dead and it infuriated me. I trashed the house, broke everything I could. But then, they came. They brought me back to sanity. I felt serene. I heard the sirens, there was nothing I could do, so I embraced my mother, not able to lift her with my arms. They ripped me away from her, I couldn't resist, I had no strenght left. They interrogated me, but what was I going to say? Yes, I killed my father and maybe a whole school. What struck me was that they thought I had killed mother.
"You do realise she was also stabbed to death. 37 times in the back."
"Lies."
I wasn't alone in the white room, they were with me. The only light in this dark world.
"Doctor, is the patient ready?"
He turns to the frail broken girl, her thin scarred arms and legs looking like atrophied bird wings.
"I believe so."
The girl lifted her chin, her hollow cheeks and eye sockets looking blacker than the dead night, her eyes still shining with madness.
The nurse accompanied the girl towards her death, her last words being "i have absolutely no regrets."
