Insanity

Chapter Eighteen

I finally decide to open my eyes hours later, when Kylie and Jonathon go into the kitchen to try and make dinner.
I blink open my eyes and sit up, rubbing my forehead, sighing in relief at being alone.
I never want to say anything again.
"Hungry?", Kylie's voice asks from behind me. "You should be by now."
I shake my head no and lay back down.
"Theresa, you can't lay around because you're upset with yourself", she says, walking over. "Come on."
I say nothing and avoid her gaze, focusing instead on the wall behind her left shoulder.
"Get up", my sister says sharply. "Say something."
Again, I shake my head before fingering the bandages on my hand. I jump when Kylie shakes my shoulders, forcing me to look her in the eye.
"Say something", she says again. "I'm begging you."
No.
I sit there in silence, chewing on my lip as she sighs and strolls quickly back to the kitchen.
"Dad", I hear her say. "She won't talk, and she's refusing to eat."
"I'll see what I can do." I watch my father step out into the dining room and walk towards me, not saying anything as he sits down next to me.
"How're you feeling?"
I look down at my lap and give a little shrug.
"Don't wanna talk right now?"
I nod.
"You don't have to say anything right now", Jonathon says, looking down at me. "But don't starve yourself. It'll help you keep your strength up, and you need that to heal."
I make a writing gesture and look up into his eyes before doing it again.
"You want something to write on?", he guesses and I force a small smile on my face. "Okay. I'll be right back."
I nod again and return my eyes to the floor as my father pats my knee and stands. I listen to the sound of his retreating footsteps back into the kitchen.
He says something to my sister, but I tune out their voices and fiddle with the soft blanket in my fingers.
"Here", Jonathon says a moment later, holding out a clipboard and pen for me to take, which I do. "Write away."
I give him a thumbs up, then uncap the pen.

I'm not hungry.

"Sweetheart, you have to eat", he replies. "I know it's only been a few days, but you need to."

I don't want to.

"Well, I don't care right now", my father says. "You're not a child anymore, Theresa. You're twenty three, and you need to act like it."
I cap the pen again and set it in my lap.
"Theresa, I will tie you to a chair and feed you like a baby if I have to", he says. "But no matter what, food is getting into your stomach, do you understand me?"
I let out a quiet sigh and take out the pen again.

Okay. Fine.

I let out my breath and look up into Jonathon's blue eyes with my own, setting the writing utensil down on the clipboard before standing up and unsteadily limping over to the dining room to join my sister.
"Did you give in?", she asks me, setting bowls on the table. I nod. "Good."
We stand there in silence for a moment as Kylie looks over at our father still sitting on the couch.
"He's never like that", she says quietly. "If you continue to hold your silence, it might just break him. I get that you're scared of everything right now, but all of us have been through shit in the last two years."
I nod my head, setting down the clipboard so I can write.

I'll keep that in mind. I just need more time.

She sighs.
"I think you should tell him that you want a mental exam", my sister says. "There has to be someone who can help you."
I shake my head.

I don't want to be helped, I scribble. The flashes make me remember, and the episodes don't tend to hurt anyone.

"I don't want you to be this way", Kylie urges. "And they do hurt someone. They hurt you."

Only when I wake up.

"Someday, you're not going to wake up from it", she says. "Because you'll be dead. You need help."

Someone once told me that everyone is their own kind of insane.

"Whoever told you that is an idiot", Kylie snaps. "Insanity is nothing to joke about."

I'm not joking.

"Who told you that anyway?"

Jake did. He said that everyone is a certain way for a reason. My reason is to be a psychopath.

"You're not a psychopath!", she shouts suddenly, making me jump. "You're not insane!"

You don't know me anymore, I write. I don't know myself. I never asked for any of this, and I never asked to be molded into this. It'd be better for everyone if they stayed far away from me. I'm dangerous, remember?

"Don't say that."

I close the pen and turn away.
I'm done with this.