As soon as she entered her bedroom, she plopped onto her mattress, enveloping herself in the blankets before shutting her eyelids. Her sleep a sea of absolute darkness, no dreams to be found. Color lacked at every inch of her mind.
Olive Marianne Parker; a girl of impulsive blood lust tendencies.
The desperate gaze in her chocolate eyes was directed upon the ground. Lips raw from continuous biting, palms clammy and unstable.
Dear lord get me out of here.
The desperation to get out of this terrible place was the only thought flooding her mind.
Although warming colors and art cluttered the wall, nothing about this place shouted "Welcome, we'd love to help". Instead, it perceived a million judgemental eyes and ears, waiting and watching for you to say the wrong thing. Psychiatric offices aren't pleasant, nor are the people that accompanied the establishment.
"What seems to be the problem today?" a tender, ragged voice spoke.
"It happened again..." her hands struggled to maintain stability as they became fists. A mighty shake took over her body for quite some time.
The ride home was coated in silence, tension arose by the second. "Do you....ever feel, guilty...?" a pause following his words. Olive, in a tense, firm tone replied, "No." receiving only a nod in response.
Remorse wasn't an option, only one question remains. Why do I it?
YOU ARE READING
I'm Gone But You're Still Here
Teen FictionOlive Marianne Parker A girl with blood lust... Her father is dissmissive yet concernced. Anxious yet familiar with the creak of the window signaling his daughter is home. There's a stir, though, when Valerie befriends Olive, a rare sight indeed. H...
