The walls of the asylum loomed around me like a prison, cold and unforgiving. I had been here for what felt like an eternity, surrounded by others who whispered about their pasts, each story more tragic than the last. But for me, it was different. I didn’t quite fit in with the chaos of it all. My mind was my own worst enemy, constantly echoing the voices of Ann Marie and Lakeyah. They were still there, haunting my thoughts, even in this place meant to heal.
I remember my first day here. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled my nostrils, and the bright lights overhead felt too harsh, too bright for the gloom that had settled in my heart. I’d been admitted after a particularly bad episode—one that ended with Mama in tears and Glamma frantically calling for help. They thought this place could fix me, but how could anyone fix what felt broken deep inside?
I sat in the common area, watching the other patients interact. Some laughed quietly among themselves, while others sat alone, lost in their worlds. I felt like a ghost, drifting in and out of their conversations without being seen. The staff moved about, checking on everyone with a practiced efficiency, but I avoided their gaze. I didn’t want their pity; I wanted to be left alone with my thoughts—thoughts that always circled back to Ann Marie and Lakeyah.
As I gazed out the window, rain streamed down the glass like tears. I couldn’t help but wonder if they were watching me, trapped in this dull, gray reality while they roamed free. The whispers grew louder, filling my mind with images of their faces, reminding me of everything I felt—the thrill, the fear, the confusion. What did they want from me? Why couldn’t I escape their pull?
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, hoping to find some clarity in the storm outside. The world beyond the asylum seemed vibrant, alive, while I felt like I was suffocating in the silence of this place. I thought about my family—Mama and Glamma. They believed I needed help, but the only thing that ever felt wrong was my connection to Ann Marie and Lakeyah.
“Hey, you okay?” A soft voice pulled me from my reverie. I turned to see a girl around my age sitting across from me, her eyes filled with genuine concern. She had short, dark hair and an easy smile that seemed to lighten the oppressive atmosphere around us.
“I’m fine,” I replied, but the words felt hollow even to me.
“Yeah, you look fine,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “But you don’t have to pretend with me. I get it. It’s hard here.”
I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to let someone in. But there was something about her warmth that made me want to share, to explain the madness swirling in my mind. “It’s just… it’s complicated,” I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Complicated how?” she asked, leaning in closer.
“I keep seeing these two girls, Ann Marie and Lakeyah,” I confessed, feeling a weight lift as I spoke their names. “They feel so real, but I know I’ve never met them. It’s like they’re part of me, but I don’t know why.”
Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of understanding crossing her face. “I think I know what you mean. I see things too—people who aren’t really there.”
“Really?” My heart raced at the thought of not being alone in this. “What do you see?”
“Sometimes it’s just shadows, but other times it’s full-on conversations,” she said, her voice low. “They want me to do things, tell me things about myself that I don’t even know.”
“Exactly!” I said, feeling a surge of connection. “They’re always there, whispering to me, and I can’t escape it.”
She nodded, her expression growing serious. “You know, it’s okay to feel that way. Sometimes our minds just… they create things we need to process. You should talk to someone about it—maybe a therapist or a nurse. It could help.”
I shook my head. “No, they won’t understand. They’ll just think I’m crazy.”
“Maybe not,” she countered. “You just have to find the right person. I’m still trying to figure things out myself. But you’re not alone in this.”
As her words sank in, I realized how desperately I needed that connection. I hadn’t considered that I wasn’t the only one battling my own demons. Maybe there was hope for understanding, even within these walls.
“I’m Mya, by the way,” she introduced herself, extending her hand.
“Amira,” I replied, taking her hand. There was a spark, a moment of clarity. In that connection, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe I could share this burden, if only with one other person.
As the days turned into weeks, I began to open up more to Mya. We spent our days together, navigating the asylum’s routines, attending group therapy sessions, and sharing stories of our lives before we were confined. The more I shared about Ann Marie and Lakeyah, the less isolating it felt.
During one session, I finally voiced my fears aloud. “I feel like they’re a part of me, but I don’t know how to understand it. It’s like they know something about my life that I don’t.”
Mya’s expression grew thoughtful. “Maybe they’re trying to help you find that understanding. It’s possible they represent something you need to confront about yourself.”
Her words lingered in my mind, sparking a shift in my perspective. I began to see Ann Marie and Lakeyah not as haunting specters but as guides, pushing me toward truths I had yet to acknowledge. Maybe they were here to help me uncover parts of myself that had been buried beneath fear and confusion.
As I reflected on my past, I realized the darkness that had shadowed my childhood—the moments of fear when my brother had hurt me, the times I felt abandoned or unheard. Each memory opened a door, and with it, the voices of Ann Marie and Lakeyah grew louder, beckoning me to explore the fractures in my mind.
Then, one night, while lying in my bed in the dormitory, I felt a familiar presence. Ann Marie’s soft voice floated through the darkness. “Amira, you need to let go of the fear holding you back.”
“What do you mean?” I whispered, half-convinced I was dreaming.
“Look deeper,” she urged. “We’re here to guide you, but you must be willing to listen. Embrace us, and you’ll find clarity.”
With that, I closed my eyes, allowing myself to breathe deeply, welcoming their presence rather than shying away. I imagined stepping through the shadows and into the light. For the first time, I felt a flicker of courage spark inside me—a determination to confront what had been hidden for too long.
Maybe this asylum, with all its cold walls and painful memories, could be the place where I finally understood my own fractured reflections. Maybe Ann Marie and Lakeyah weren’t just figments of my imagination; perhaps they were the key to unlocking my past, helping me find my way back to myself.
As the rain pattered against the window, I drifted off to sleep, feeling their energy wrap around me like a warm embrace. I knew this was just the beginning of a journey I hadn’t anticipated, but I was ready to take the first step into the unknown, hand in hand with my elusive companions.
1258 words
YOU ARE READING
Crazy In Love
Fanfiction"Crazy in Love" follows Amira, a girl from Chicago who has always been the favored child in her family, overshadowing her troubled older brother. As a toddler, she narrowly escaped several violent incidents instigated by him, leaving lasting scars o...
