miraje

Chapter 1

When someone asks you what your favourite flower is, I can almost guarantee you might say daisies, roses or tulips. These would be the more reasonable answers but if you were to ask me the same question, expecting to receive one of the following answers, you would be left with nothing but disappointment. The flower to which you may call ones favourite, for me, is belladonna. For the main fact of how easy it is to decorate without one knowing, it shall be put in there evening pie or cup of tea. To later be in a deathly sweat, where your last glance is of my hand covering your mouth to finish the job, but yes I guess one could say roses.

I honestly can't understand to how I was in my right mind to commit something as such as a murder. But then again, how right can someone's mind be to be sent to a hospital for the clinically insane?
The driver of the vehicle I was forced into, by my doctors, was being driven by a man in a white surgery coat with a black mask covering his face so his identity could not be known. My friend and accomplice to my crime - Belle - was sat next to me facing forward and not batting an eye; so unbothered by the situation, much like me except I felt the situation a huge waste of time than anything else. My head pounding by the lamp lights on the street outside flickering as the car sped past them, as if we where in a hurry to be somewhere.

Finally, after what felt like hours, we arrived at the prison I had been placed in.
'Hospital for the clinically ill'
what a laughing stock of a place to be and what a peculiar gate way to have with overgrown black thorns and rusting sharp metal gates, which had spikes coming off each poll. This is going to be a complete and utter nightmare!

Why is it whenever there is a hospital for the clinically ill, its always overgrown and falling apart?
You'd think such places would have generous funding from the government to help support and maintain the balance of peace, in this case I guess not. Something I don't mention much is I'm actually not fond of doctors. All their brain picking questions; How does this and that make you feel? Why are you here? I can very much answer these questions to a standard one would think believable, but I would never let a doctor know what I'm really thinking because that is when they really get in your head and turn it inside out until there is nothing left to rip out through your membrane, leaving your head in a puddle of misplaced memories. One could say it ruins you.

As the car pulled up the driveway of my soon to be home, all I could think of was what my life was soon going to be like. Would I have people I could talk to or just Belle?
Not that this would be a negative, just one can wish for more. The car comes to a holt and the doctor steps out the vehicle to collect me from the back seat. His arms are long and body was thin, like a stick man. He opened the door and asked for me to step out, of course i did.

I looked around as i was brought inside the hospital. It was more of a manor, which must have been quite luxurious in its time. But now nothing more than an old, worn down building filled with depression and sorrow. The doors where vast with engraved markings and beside them stood towering pillars made from marble and a with a silver crow above the door. The doctor opened the doors with a grunt. The scraping along the worn down stoned flooring was chilling and gave a cold feel to this place. The entrance to the building was long and empty, it felt like the doors were filling the hall and there was a grand stair case at the end of the hall, with a shimmering chandelier, which seemed to be the only thing that was clean in this place.

All the doors where shut, except one at the end of the hall with the letter E on it. This door, which was wide open, had awaiting inside was a middle aged man who seemed nothing but strange to say the least. He had slicked back black hair, circle glasses that reflected the light so sharply it felt like it had cut through my sight. Green green eyes, dark and siren like. He had a pen in his pocket and an unfinished apple on his desk, a green apple.
"I'm doctor Edwards, its a pleasure to meet you Naomi. I've assigned you a room in the west wing, make your way there and change into your new clothes. I'm sure you will find them... fitting,"
He said, rather strange, sending me and Belle away, "We're going to have fun here, aren't we?"
Belle said, excited.
"If this is your idea of  fun Belle, then yes." i said rather bluntly striding up the mountainous stairs which had a beautiful red carpet with flowers and cupids scattered across them like an illustration on the ground, the only thing i feel fond of so far. i continue to walk up the steps and look around curiously whilst belle leaped across the hall so caught up with the face she could do cartwheels in them but sadly her excitement was cut short when a boy similar age to us it looked walked past. Pale faced and a frown so strong one would think permanent, he said nothing and continued walking past us as though nothing was different. We began to come to the end of the hall to be stood in front of a bright red door which had west wing dorm written on a metal slab. I opened the door to enter our assigned room and what i found inside was a scare! for me at least.

Who in there right mind decided to give us a bunk bed ? I mean how old do they think i am  Exactly ? Because i can assure you I'm not 12 ! Belle seemed unbothered and had already choose top bunk, not only was i going to have to sleep like a pre-pubescent child but the bed was far too  small for my whole body to squeeze on to and the screws where falling out the metal framing. One thing I'm not going to have is belle landing on me whilst I'm asleep that would most definitely be an awful way to die. I walked over to the wardrobe we where provided so generously by the owner of this place to find mine and belle's clothing the doctor had said to change into earlier. I now see what he meant when he said i would find my new clothing fitting in this case meaning dull colours and drab design, A bitter and unfunny piece of humour that the doctor had so blatantly hinted at but besides this i still change into the provided clothing and belle does the same. I can't tell what i hate more, the smell of the damp carpet growing mould causing my mind to be in a haze or the constant humming noise coming from the walls of the room. I take a deep breath and try to imagine my life to not be such a misery, this tends to help me to feel better about whatever situation I'm in, although didn't do much this time around. The one positive i guess of the room is the towering windows at each side of the room with seating on both, perfect for glancing out into the woodlands or into the surprisingly well groomed garden that was the only singular thing i felt intrigued to explore more. There is something about gardens i find to be wondrous maybe its the layout of them or the absurd colours of the flowers bright enough to leave you in a hypnotic state. After we finished gazing out the windows we heard a knock at the door, "i hope everything is to your liking Naomi. please make your way to the dinning room in 10 minutes for dinner" the doctor said in a raspy voice without giving any information in the slightest to where the dinning room was so i opened the door once more for me and belle to exit into the hall to make are way to wherever the dinning room was. Maybe on the way i can have a look around and find out more about this place and maybe ill find something unexpected, one could wish right ?