Author's Note: I spam-wrote for a bit, so I will be updating the stuff I wrote for the next few minutes. (Who are you even talking to, Nina, nobody wants to read your story lol)
I hadn't been wondering what happened to my parents, why they hadn't visited me, they never really cared about me all that much. After two weeks in the hospital, the doctor decided to take me off the IV, and my chest pain had dulled for the most part. I was near the door, and I could see that there was only one security guard at my door. And he took pretty frequent breaks. For some reason, I decided that I'd leave the hospital and go for a walk while the security guard was on one of his breaks. The security guard was probably caught when taking one of his unauthorized breaks, because he only left when needed. The earliest I could leave at this point was 1AM. So that's exactly what I did.
The night-shift people didn't know me all that well, but I timed everything just right so that there was pretty much nobody around when I left. Just as a precaution. I had found a semi-rusty knife in a bush while scouring for any weapon as self-defense. I took a long walk, I don't remember very much of it. All I know is that I made it out alive, but i had blood on my hands, not much. The knife was tight in my hands, so I probably unknowingly cut myself with it. "Great," I thought. "Now you probably have tetanus." I couldn't tell the doctors about this, they'd probably put me in a higher security area. I washed my hands out in the bathroom near my hospital bed. I didn't find any cuts or breaks in my skin, but then again, it could really be from anywhere. It was dark, maybe the knife's hilt was already bloody.
My parents, as it turns out, died. Around the same day I went for that walk. They were murdered. What was odd was that it was around the same time when the voices left. The voices finally came back after about three days. I actually found those three days to be quite peaceful, even nostalgic...I hadn't had even had a minute of silence in my head since I was three. I could finally hear my own thoughts again, but frankly, I hated being in control of my life. I found myself relying on other people to help me make decisions. I blamed it all on the state I was in, and it worked for the time being. The time until the voices came back. They came back in a rattled, annoyed, but otherwise hushed, manner.
"How could this have happened? How long?" Ms. Baxter arrived at this time.
"Did they tell you yet?"
"Uh...no? They?"
"They...you know—the doctors?"
"Oh. No, what did they have to tell me?" I braced myself for the worst. I didn't know what "the worst" even could be, so technically, had to brace myself for anything.
"You're going to be moved to a mental institution." My heart dropped.
"They're moving me to an insane asylum?!" I stared unbelievingly at her.
"N-now I wouldn't phrase it like that—"
"Why would you let them do that? I'm completely fine, mentally, at least." That wasn't a complete lie, the voices had stopped again.
"No, Taylor, you're not." I cringed when she used that name.
"They're going to move you tonight." I sighed. There was nothing I could really do.
YOU ARE READING
The Voices
Horror*Contains aspects of mental disorders, contains some violent and/or brutal scenes* A 9-year-old seems to be struggling with a mental illness to other people-she hears voices. But to her, she doesn't have a mental disorder, not at all. To her, she be...
