Cursed [Jai Brooks]

The Epilogue

The dull white walls reflect my pallid complexion, blinding me with their glossiness. I feel as if I am in prison, I have been persecuted for my pain, my sorrow and loss. I haven’t been outside of these four walls since I was admitted here, a month without daylight, without the sounds of birds chirping in their nests, without the feel of the cool spring breeze on my cheeks. Being here isn’t living, it’s just merely surviving.

I shuffle on the squeaky, feeble bed that contains an array of cushions and soft toys that honestly have made me feel nothing but depressed. I must look like hell being locked up here with nothing but old sweaters and sweatpants. It’s not like we’re allowed mirrors, they think that I may try to cut myself with shards of glass, they should know by now that all of my efforts to die have failed me miserably so I may as well ride this long painful journey out. There’s a puny knock at the door, I don’t bother to respond, even if I rejected their entry they’d still come in. This isn’t MY home, this isn’t MY room, this is just where I have to live. “Miss Miller” Doctor Myers pokes his head around the side of the door, wearing a bright smile as he always days, his happiness is almost infectious. “How are you feeling today?” he asks, his voice is so calm and patient, it almost feels rehearsed but I can’t help but indulge in his serenity.

“Well, before you came here I had several aliens invade my room and ask me if I feel like joining their spaceship army, of course I’d have to acquire the skills of a supernatural creature and invest in a scale like jumpsuit but the offer is implausible” I smile sardonically, if they accuse me of being crazy, why not live up to it?

“I see, and did these aliens offer to pick you up from the institution or do we have to drive you to a spaceship pad? Because honestly I don’t think New York has one” he chuckles indulging in my humour.

“I told them that my transportation would be the deal breaker” I offer him a smile to which he returns with a genuine smile that reaches his eyes. He moves towards me and takes a seat on the edge of my crooked, poorly made bed and flicks through several sheets of paper clipped to the brown clipboard in his hands. He stops on a page sprawled with writing and runs his finger under a line of words and raises his eyebrows as if saying ‘ah I found it’.

“Miss Miller, have you been feeling anything out of the norm, from physical pain to emotional pain that you didn’t describe on your last check up?” he asks reading off of the sheet of paper. Considering my last check up was yesterday of course nothing has changed, nothing has changed since I’ve got here except the darkness.

“Have you?” I snort and raise my brows at him inquisitively, I know he’s only trying to do his job but answering the same bland questions everyday is driving me nuts. He runs his hand through his thick mop of hair in exasperation. His eyes meet mine, his icy blue stare cutting me right to the core.

“Hope, have you felt suicidal today?” he groans clearly expecting my sarcastic retort.

“I’ve felt suicidal since the second my sister died” I huff, his lips turn into a frown and I can’t help but feel empathy for him, he has to deal with people like me all day it must be exhausting “I’ve been feeling a little less sad since you’ve upped my meds, I just don’t really feel anything” I tell him truthfully. His lips press into a thin line as he pulls off the lid of the black ball point pen and begins to scribe notes on a blank line.

“Since you’ve arrived here, have you seen him?” Myers asks sympathetically. I momentarily think back to the moment they told me he was just a figment of my imagination. The pain I felt was indescribable, he made me feel alive, I loved him, but he wasn’t real.  I didn’t believe them at first, I mean how could I? I’d imagined this whole life for the two of us, my sister was alive, for at least a little bit longer than she was, we loved each other emotionally and physically, everything seemed so real but it was all just one big twist in my insanity. Part of me still has hope that he’ll come back to me real or not, because through all of this pain, he’s the only one who makes living bearable.