𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 | ᵍʳᵉʸˢ ᵃⁿᵃᵗᵒᵐʸ

𝑎𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑠 | ¹⁹⁹⁸

𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐍, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟖

I turned nine when I was taken to the psychiatric hospital. A kid who felt too much, thought too much.

Katie, my roommate, was five years older, a girl who, in my eyes, was everything I wanted to be. Strong, determined, beautiful, and unattainable, like a star in the midnight sky.

The playground of the psychiatric hospital, where Katie had taken me, was silent and gloomy in front of us.

We had special permission to stay out late.
That was something that happened rarely.

"I'm counting now, Katie, you better go and hide!" I shouted, closing my eyes and starting to count. "One... two... three..."

With each number I counted, I felt the tension rise. Where would she hide this time? Katie was smart; she knew all the nooks and crannies of this playground.

We had played this game so many times, but each time it felt like a new adventure, a new thrill.

As I shouted "twenty" and ran off to find her, I felt a strange combination of fear and excitement. I was determined to find her this time, to surprise her, to show her that I had learned from her lessons.

The playground had become a maze of shadows, every corner a potential hiding place.

When I found her, she praised me.
Her attention was like balm for my wounded soul, and I clung to everything she taught me.

Then, we switched roles.
"I'm going to count to fifty and you hide," the older girl called out, her voice playful, but there was something serious in her eyes, something I didn't understand at that time.

Katie began to count with her eyes closed.
Her slender silhouette stood out sharply against the dim glow of the streetlights as I searched with childish enthusiasm for a brilliant hiding spot.

"Forty-nine... fifty! Ready or not, here I come!"

I listened as Katie's footsteps moved away and then came closer. My heart skipped a beat every time I thought she would find me.

"Where are you, Missy?" she said quietly, as if speaking directly to me, even though she couldn't see me.

I pressed my lips together to stop myself from giggling. Katie was so close I could almost feel her presence, but she didn't see me.

The footsteps moved away; obviously I had tricked her.

Time passed and the cold seeped into my bones. The ground felt uncomfortable against my knees, but I didn't care.

All that mattered was the game.

The game that wasn't really a game, but a challenge to win Katie's affection.

But an hour later, Katie still hasn't found me, and I got worried. Why couldn't she find me?
Was it me? Was I too good at hiding?

Or did she not want to find me? Did Katie want to get rid of me and leave me here alone?

With a sick feeling in my stomach, I crawled out of my hiding spot. "Katie! Where are you?"
My calls echoed through the empty playground, lost in the darkness of the night.

But everything remained silent, only the faint rustle of leaves in the wind responded. "Katie, please, this isn't funny," I called out, my voice growing louder, more urgent, almost accusing.

The feeling of being abandoned crept up on me, a cold, clammy fear that weighed heavily on my chest. What if she really had gone and left me here?

"Katie!" my voice broke. Tears welled up in my eyes, a combination of fear and betrayal. Katie was my support, my guide, the person who gave meaning to my existence in this isolated world.

Without her, I felt lost and incomplete.

Finally, I found her under the slide, lying motionless, her body unnaturally twisted.

Something was terribly wrong.

"Katie, get up, I found you!" But she didn't answer. Her body was lifeless, her face pale in the moonlight. Panic gripped me.

"Katie, please!" I begged, shaking her gently, but there was no response, she didn't move. Tears streamed down my face as the reality of the situation hit me. "Please, Katie, don't do this!" I sobbed, unable to comprehend what had happened.

I started to run back for help, my footsteps breaking the silence of the night.

At that moment, the game was over, reality had caught up with us, harder and more cruel than I could have ever imagined.