Schizo (TNT Horror contest)

Dreaded Dreams

WARNINGS: graphic violence, moderate swearing, mention of suicide, mental disorders, orphanism.

Ren. I hate that name. I want it changed, but that's not exactly my choice. It's my father's name. The father that left me at this foster home at the age of 7. I didn't ever find out what happened to him, nor did I question it. Moving seemed o be a normal occurance to a child as ignorant as I was. Frankly I didn't care. He is a villian too my story. A villian in a story that is written in stone. A story whose path is not to be erased, and not to be altered, therefore eternally identicle.

The foster home is never full, letting off a normal-case household. It's been the same group of kids since I arrived here. The same faces, the same food, the same cold room and worst of all, the same were effect that reminds me that I'll never leave this Hell. Outside of the plain grey window frame is a view of the street. There are plenty of things to observe but I only have faint memories of how it feels to be free. I'm turning 19 in 5 days.

My birthday doesn't mean much to me any more. Its a reminder of a year that has passed without any hope or signs of leaving. Its dumb. What's the point of celebrating a birthday? Not sure I'll ever understand the sickening optimism. Anyways, the kids here aren't that intriguing or intelligent either. I've spent an entire 12 years here, but its the same dialogue every day. A brisk hello, and small talk relating to nothing particular. The one I've been able to open up to a bit is a boy named Cal. That's what we address him as anyways.

His name is Calum Brook. He's a 17 year old total recluse. He seems to avoid eye contact, is a bit skiddish, but he certainly knows how to listen. Sometimes that's all I really want. Someone to listen to me. To understand what I feel. Someone to feel close too.

"Do you know anything about whats been going on with Fay recently?" I ask. I can't say I'm too interested, but she hasn't come out of her room in 3 days. Poor girl, I wish I could pity her. 10 years old, and she's never met her parents. "I'm not sure. I've heard a rumor, but its really unlikely." Calum says whilst shrugging. "Well?" I say with my hands rather than my words, with some exaggerated gesture. "Staff said that she left here. She left to be with a family, Ren. A foster family." He states a slight hint of jealousy in his voice. "That's impossible. That never happens Cal.." "I know, trust me. It explains a lot though. Maybe that's why we haven't seen her." I nod lightly to indicate agreement. I still dont understand.

We don't hear much news around here, which leaves us a bit outdated. Sometimes the staff will let us in on some news, but Mr. Dane, the foster home officer, rarely talks to us any more. He was so kind when I arrived. He honestly treated me like his own son. It began to fade over time. He grew weak and frail. He's 83 now. I'm greatly worried about him. He's been having coughing fits that leave him breathless and even leave him on the floor. I know that I should prepare for our loss.

I cant help but wonder if I'm even a little bit normal. I've not had much human interaction with people other than these orphans, which seem a bit off themselves. I get weird feelings every so often. Feelings that come in short burst, but I can't escape them. Like I'm another person for a short time. Jumping into a completely new body and soul, memories and all. Mr. Dane says I'm emotional, but that's a big understatement. I wake up breathing heavily and with sweat trickling down onto my damp pillow. I don't recall dreaming, but it seems as if a had the most intense nightmare of my life. I'm really not normal, am I?

Days go by without much activity. It seems like I should be more concerned about Fay, but motivation doesn't come easy any more.

Two days later we get the news. Apparently she was in her room this whole time, but she wasn't reading to pass time. She was found hanging from the shower head by a belt early in the morning. 10 years old. I don't know how I wasn't worried. I have had dreams where I was in her shoes, but I wasn't struggling. I wasn't going through a tough time. I was in the ocean. Floating, drifting. In the distance was a ship a small one with not much cargo that was apparent. As I drifted closer to the ship I saw myself. I saw myself there pale, lifeless, but still standing. There was no expression on my face. I could feel the fear as if I was in her body. As if I was Fay.