Crazier

Prologue

This is not good, I swear I didn't know what to write for the prologue so I wrote whatever came up into my mind. I mean, I just started that story and I already had a major writer's block. I'm so sorry. Please comment on what you think of this, I'd really appreciate good comments and harsh comments. I don't care which, just gimme what you got.

I really do need feedback. I mean, I'm not the best writer, I'm sorry. If you don't want to comment, then you can just vote, that is if you like it; I'm not sure if people will like this prologue. But gradually through the story, the chapters will get better, but that's for you to judge.

Anyway, thank you for reading.

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          ❝Crazier [definition]: Mentally deranged, esp. as manifested in a wild or aggressive way.❞

     I shuffled habitably on the wooden chair, impatiently tapping rhythmically onto the opaque circulated desk, which held numerous amounts of unnecessary objects. As I heard the humming sound of a husky voice, I sat up suitably straight, pulling harshly at the hem of my woolly jumper. He shot me a frivolous grin before placing his cheeks onto the surface of the curved desk chair, patting onto the arm chair as he sauntered forward. “So, how are you recovering, Miss Wentworth?” I nodded, reassuringly, I didn’t want to get him all worked up like last time; he had to watch me mumble out words whilst sobbing my heart out. I could tell it wasn’t very pleasant for him; it wasn’t very pleasant for me either.

     "Are you sure? You seem a bit pale..." The creases between his furry brows tightened, wrinkles in between his eyes pushing upwards. I do seem to look ridiculously lurid these days; it was probably the amount of stress that increased during my time at college. "Ok, let’s get started, shall we?" I nodded, eagerly; hunching my back forward as I placed the side of my arms onto the extra books that weren’t necessarily needed.

     "Please don’t let it be more than 50 percent..." I begged, muttering the same sentence over and over again. I couldn’t let it be more than fifty percent otherwise I’d have to have that x-ray examination with that perverted physicist.

     "Well, it looks like only 36 percent of your panic attacks have decreased," He informed, slapping the end of the white sheets onto the desk, sorting the position it was previously in. I mentally wanted to ostracise, but considering there was only two people in the room; that choice was rarely needed. "But that has leaded you to 52 percent." An absurd amount of profanities left my mouth rapidly as I sighed in disappointment.

     "Please don’t make me go there, again." I pleaded, grimacing as flashbacks of the previous examinations I had with Dr. Wilbert, he wasn’t very developed considering he nearly killed me with the laser. It wasn’t even necessary as the time; I didn’t need laser surgery, but him being so used to being unemployed left me stranded on the bed.

     "You’re not going there," I sighed in relief, slumping backwards into an uncomfortable state. "You’ll be visiting Inquest Manor for two weeks to help you with your problem." My eyes widened as my plump lips poked out, my orbs darkening as I stood up, pushing the chair back which caused a screeching sound to erupt.

     "I can’t go there."

    "It’s for your own benefit, Miss. Wentworth; you need to get over this love sick stuff," He sighed, leaning forward as he attached his callous fingers together. “Whatever you teenagers call it.” He muttered, growing peevish of my attitude. I instantly gave in, plopping back down onto the chair. "Now, how is your...you know."

     "I don’t know, I can’t help but feel worthless." I felt worthless at the fact that everything I did, enormously failed. I don’t know why Harry still hasn’t dumped out on me.

     "You are not worthless, now tell me; what made you fall in love with him?" His question caught me off guard; no one has ever asked that question so I was quite unprepared yet still mustered out the word.

     "Everything, his smile, his laugh, his generosity, his voice, him. Just him." I couldn’t help but be fazed at my words, smiling involuntarily at the small description I just gave out. I loved everything about him, I always stared at him intently, examining his facial expression, his features; everything. I couldn’t help but feel as if he was the one to bring the light in my life.

     "Why don’t you just tell him, how you feel?" He asked; surprised at the big impact the boy had on me. I bit my lip, questionably; wondering if I should just tell him what everyone thinks of me.

     "I already did, they think I’m crazy. And you know what, I am crazy and I can’t help it." We just stared at each other intently, his face full of sorrow and worry; but I couldn’t help but have the same expression as him, I was worried about myself, worried that I would outburst or advance my panic attacks.

     "You are just troubled with society, you can get help eas-"

     "No, I am crazy and no one can help me unless I get what I want!" I felt tears threatening their way out, the remains brimming in my eyes. Acrimony was all I felt, no one treated me like a normal person, they’d always look at me in disgust; I just couldn’t help my actions.

     "He cannot fall in love with you by force; love doesn’t work that way." He exclaimed, sighing as he raised his brows. "Inquest Manor will help you and I mean it."

     "I don’t care about that..."

     "Then what you do you care about? Are you scared of something?" I nodded, crinkling the bridge of my nose as I folded my arms against my chest. "Then tell me, what are you scared of?"

     "That everyone will give up on me." I sobbed, restraining myself from slamming my head onto the desk repeatedly. Nearly everyone has given up on me; no one knew what to do to help me. But it was quite obvious.

     "I will not give up on you; I will make sure you get the help you need." I smiled sadly at him, carelessly wiping the tears off my cheeks, smudging my mascara across the horizontal length of my cheek. "But you confuse me."

     "Why?"

     "Why did you really come here?" There was only one answer to that question, my mind arrogantly tried to push that answer aside, honestly, I think it’s my mind that thinks these things. When I started coming here, it was mainly for my panic attacks but now, I intentionally come here for one thing.

     "To help me fall out of love with him."