I’m not as crazy as everyone thinks I am.
I did what I had to do to live. I feel guilt, I feel remorse, I feel sadness and anger and everything in between. But I know that what I did was entirely necessary and if put in the same situation again, I wouldn’t change the way I acted.
Everyone tells me I acted the wrong way. I always feel a pressing need to ask if they’ve ever been in anything remotely like the situation I was in. If they’ve ever been pinned underneath a looming black mass that’s trying to force a knife into their chest. It’s not an everyday situation that you wake up to the sound of someone screaming and jumping on top of you, trying as hard as they can to kill you. I wish more people would realize that I’m not crazy, I’m realistic. I didn’t want to die, but someone was obviously going to. So I grabbed the scissors on my nightstand, and I killed him. I feel pain for what I did, for the man I did it to, for myself and all those affected. But I did what I had to do.
A quick “We’re here, Harry.” from my mother broke my train of thought. My attention snapped to the building that her tearful gaze was directed towards. London Mental Institution and Correctional Facility. I turned back to face her.
She looked at me, but only for a second before looking at the ground. “Mum,” I said, my voice gravelly and quiet, my tear-filled eyes fixated on her own. “I’m not crazy. You know me, Mum.” I say the last bit with uncertainty. There’s a long pause before she speaks again.
“You killed someone.” She says, her eyes still on the ground. I feel myself start to get angry.
“What would you have done, mum? Tell me. If someone was trying to kill you. What on earth would you have thought to do?” I slam my hand on the dashboard. Bad idea. She immediately gets out of the car, walking to the door. I stay in, but the internal hope that I had of this all being some twisted threat is decreasing with each step she takes towards the door. Before she reaches the door, she turns to me. Despite the distance, I can tell that she’s close to breaking, and no matter how frustrated I was at this situation, I wouldn’t be able to handle seeing her cry more than she already has.
I slowly get out of the car and make my way towards her. As I get closer, I can see that she’s trembling. I try to hug her, comfort her, but her eyes grow wide as my hands go near her. She jumps backward, into the door of the institution, and quickly runs in. It’s at that point that I realize the entirety of what I had done. I turned myself into a monster into the eyes of one of the people I love most in this world. My sister didn’t even come on the car ride with us, citing that she never wants to see me again. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to get past that.
As my mum checks me in, I take in my surroundings. Nurses everywhere, patients staring at walls and talking to themselves. It’s honestly a sad sight. It’s even worse when I think about how I’m in here, and I’m not like that. I’m normal. I just made a choice that others think is wrong, or an indicator. But I’d never kill anyone for no reason. He was going to kill me, and god knows what he would have done to Gemma, or even my mum. I’m snapped out of my thoughts when I hear my name being called. A woman in front of me with a warming smile hands me sweatpants and a pair of slippers.
“Put these on, the uniform is solid white t-shirt, sweatpants, shoes but no laces. Are you wearing a belt?” I shake my head no. She smiles and directs me to a restroom, where I’m expected to change. I hear nothing until I’m down to my briefs.
“You have very pretty eyes.” I turn around and that’s when I see her. She had long brown hair, cascading down to her mid stomach. She smiles at me, a welcoming smile, a smile that prompts me to smile back. “Dimples too.” I hear her add faintly as I slip on my shirt and sweatpants. As I stand up and turn to face her again, I see that she’s right in front of me. I smile and look at the ground. “What’s your name?”
