The Dead Asylum

Sure. Yeah. You read the title of this and thought, an asylum full of dead people. right? haha nope.

This is where all the numb ones go.

The people who don't show their emotions. The regular ones. This is the universe where the crazy get to be in the world, and everyone else, the normal ones, get locked up.

I am Aonaira Blackhart. This is my story.

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1. The Birth of a "Numb One".

My parents? They were this world's version of normal. My mom had hallucinogenic skitzophrenia. My dad was a psychopath that talked to voices. Most people don't realize they have a "numb" child until the child starts talking or acting against numbness.

My parents found me out when I was Sixteen. Mainly, because I tried to fit in. But my dad found me out when he walked into my room and found me writing in my diary, which one of his voices told him to rip out of my little girl hands and read. He read all about how I felt out of place because I didn't talk to voices, didn't see things, and didn't have high anxiety or multiple personalities or something like that.

"GIVE IT BACK!" I cried.

It was no use. He stared at me with his ebony eyes and his pitch black, sleek hair. His white suit was wrinkled and his breath obviously hitched. He ran from the room and told my mom. My mom proceeded to hold me and tell me that it would all be okay. I could smell the alchohol on her breath and the smoke of cigarettes on her pink sundress. Her blonde hair fell against my own black hair. She was drunk and hallucinating but she pushed it all aside to tell me it'd be fine. I knew she was lying. I'd seen kids my age or maybe even older screaming and kicking while sociopathic people in white suits carried us off to one of the thousands of asylums in the region. They called the NORA, or the Numb One Retrieval Agency, that night. And they came while I was sleeping.

I woke up at an Asylum.