Shattered H.S

T W O

Kids Are Still Depressed When You Dress Them Up...

♡♡♡

M A R C I E

5 months.

5 months I've been kept in this hospital and nothing is getting any better. Doctor Andrews said he would fix me and make the voices go away, but they're getting louder and louder everyday and are taking more control over me by the second.

My room brings back so many memories. The four white walls are suppose to keep me sane but I feel like I'm imprisoned in hell. The doors always locked and there's no escape, so the voices in my head use it to their advantage and take control of me.

The nights are always the worst. Everyone's asleep and it's so quiet. Nothing is heard besides the nurses and doctors walking around and the security making sure no one escapes. Sometimes, you can hear people screaming, like they're getting tortured, at least I know I'm not the only crazy one. I hate the darkness but all that lights the room are these lights stuck inside the wall, they don't let us use light bulbs in case we try to kill ourselves.

I never knew I was this crazy, until they locked me up in this hell hole. 

Mary and Jonathan visit me five hours everyday. They tell me that everything is going to be okay but I am sick and tired of people saying that. Why can't they just admit that I'm crazy? 

"Hey Marcie." Doctor Andrews comes in holding a clipboard. His hair is gelled back in the style he always wears and he has a small smile on his face. "Are you ready for todays session?"

I don't respond. I haven't spoken to anyone since I was put in here, even in my therapy sessions. I don't even talk to Mary and Jonathan anymore, they put me in this place after all. "So how have you been feeling this week, any better?"

I stare at him. Do I fucking look any better?

He doesn't say anything but writes down something on the paper attached to his clipboard. "What about the voices Marcie, has the medication been helping?"

They put me on medication to calm down my headaches and it hasn't done anything, it just makes me feel depressed and sleepy.

When I don't respond again he puts the clipboard onto the small bedside table. "Marcie, in order for you to get better, I need you to talk. I want you to tell me things so I know what to do ro help you."

'He's lying Marcie, don't listen to him...'

"I-I don't w-want t-to talk to y-you." I stutter, my throat dry since I haven't said a word for a while.

"Would you like me to find someone else for you to talk to?" He sighs and I shake my head.

'You don't need help from anyone Marcie, they're all out to get you.'

"I d-don't want a-anyone."

"Why don't you want anyone to help you Marcie?"

'Tell him to go Marcie.'

'He's pretending to care about you.'

'No one loves you, no one ever will.'

They all start shouting, making my head pound and I start shaking my head to try and get them to go. I screw my eyes shut and tug on the roots of my hair. "Marcie what's wro-"

I interrupt him with a high pitch scream, I carry on screaming so I can get them to stop. "Please, Doctor, make them go away." I plead, my head pounding.

He grabs my hand and tries to help me to my bed but I pull away, the familiar dark cloud coming over me.

'Kill him Marcie. Remember what your father said.'