𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡 𝔴𝔢 𝔨𝔫𝔢𝔴 (𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯)

Welcome to the Institute

Chapter 1

◇◇◇◇◇

My ears hummed lowly from the pressure of everything around me. I layed my shoulder on the cold metal of the bus where I was seated. My headphones were firmly seated on my head, and they muffled the sounds of my environment around me. I felt somewhat content about that. It calmed my nerves and stopped me from picking at the skin on my fingers.

Why am I so nervous you ask? Well...let's put it this way.

Everyone around me thinks I'm crazy, which I am. And because of my abnormal behavior and "hallucinations", I'm now being currently sent to a school in upstate New York for teens like me that are "mentally unwell". So rude...

My mother-well-grandmother, had enough of me. She was tired of the reputation I built for myself back in my small town in Florida as the local "schizo witch". Ever since the age I could talk, I had told people of about the "rotting people" that came to visit me. I told them things that I shouldn't have known for my age, causing many to think I was either severely mentally ill or a "demon/witch". Surprise, surprise, I got both. Guess they couldn't pick which one was better.

Either way, this grew more worse as I aged. I was bullied as a kid for it, typically. So in return, I would either sent my ghoulish zombie friends after them to scare them during the night, or I would tell them about their futures and or when they will die. It definitely wasn't the best idea, but it was something. However, this caused many spankings and yelling from my grandmother. My grandmother wasn't a religious person, but always told me that there was something deeply wrong with me that was demonic. I believed her.

The last time I saw her, she told me she never wanted to see me again. I didn't cry or shout. I simply stared at her, and watched as her aura became grey like the color of concrete.

What did I do to cause this? Well here's your answer.....

Nothing.

Before she even told me that she has permanently kicked me out of her home and sent to my aunt's house in upstate Manhattan, she had a 'revelation". That she prayed to God and that he gave her the answer to solve her problems. That I must leave, and be sent somewhere, where they'll cure me of what plagues my mind.

The thought being alone scared me more than anything. I hated my grandmother, but I stuck to her like glue, as she was my only family member at the time. I told her about how her plan didn't make sense and that it wouldn't work. This soon turned into a screaming match between us. I barely fought or yelled, but the thought of being alone in a big city with people I didn't know scared me to death. That night I had a long panic attack.

So now here I am, in a bus heading to the mental institution for people like me. I grabbed onto my backpack a bit tight and counted to fifteen. If I just keep my head down and quiet, no one would see me, no one will notice me.

The bus then suddenly stops. I shake my thoughts out of my head. I then realize the bus already made it to the institution. People behind me and in front of me stand up and get into the small crowded line that leads down the bud stairs and outside. I shuffled my feet and think of many ways I could escape this place.

I carefully walked down the stairs. And when I mean "carefully", I mean I walked down and managed to trip on myself like the idiot I was. I quickly get up and pretend it didn't happen. One thing that's more common than my "hallucinations" of dead people, where my severe lack of balance and coordination.

I walked silently to the entrance. It looked like a hospital, but it had no signs or any redeeming qualities that would make any person, mentally ill or sane, safe. Just a plain white building with a grey roof and windows. The only thing that brought "life" was the Institute's name on the building. Dr. Harrow's Hospital for Instituted Individuals