The Definition Of Normal-are you haunted by the voice?-

Let Me Be Free

Amanda returns after a fitfull sleep and tells me that today I will be able to move freely. My heart leaps until she says that I have to stay in the hospital. She pulls out a siringe with green, murky liquid inside. She pulls up the sleeve on my right arm and prepares to inject it. It spreads warmth throughout my body, relief. I test my fingers. They move slowly, unsure and they almost feel numb.A smile, timid and shy,returns to my face, unsure because it was locked away for so long. The bonds of claustrophobia untie, leaving me free, once again able to spread my wings.

A silent tear falls from my eyes, which I squeeze tightly shut. It's not fair. The voice makes an appearence, more tears fall. Amanda rushes to soothe me. She tells me that it will be alright. She tells me her father was also an alcoholic, abusive, that it doesn't determine who you are, that it doesn't mean they don't care.

The voicecounters, says that my father wants me gone, that he doesn't love me. The tears flow thic and fast, a river of sorrow. Hiccupy breaths burst out of me, irregular and painfthe I dig my nails into my palms, cutting the skin, reopening the never healed wounds.

Amanda hurries out of the room, her mouth drawn into a tight, worried line. I gasp, inhaling air into my lungs, it isn't enough. My hands shake uncontrollably. A doctor, accompanied by Amanda , run into the room, armed with clipboards and siringes. Amanda mutters sootingly, offers me water. I push it away, splashing the crisp white covers. My hands push fretfully against the taught bonds encircling my waist, keeping me strapped to the bed. Amanda sighs, scribbling on a clipboard. The doctor barks at her, holding my thrashing legs and arms.

Here comes the final resort. Amanda hurries to a box on the bedside table. With quick, practised hands,she prises it open, and pulls out a large weapon like siringe. Yanking up the sleeve on my hand, she injects it.

The internal pain, emmbeded in my soap, vanishes. My actions turn fuzzy, as if I'm under water. Amanda smiles and steps back, relieved. The doctor examines the clipboard, gives instructions and leaves the room.

The river of tears slow as the medicine works its magic. Amandas voice seems far away, like talking through glass. I close my eyes, fighting to block out the voice, rising to a crescendo. I will it to go away, to leave me alone.