I heard the muttering of the nurses around me mixed with a loud ringing in my ears. A man stepped forward from the group of nurses and leaned down so he could look me in the eye and then he spoke.
"Welcome to the North East Mental Facility miss, it is a pleasure to see that you have finally awoken. We are going to perform a few tests to see if you are in good health then we are going to put you in a room where a nice nurse will be there at all times to take care of you."
I struggled as he tried to put a needle in my arm and growling noises that I did not understand could come out of my mouth were rising from my throat. I broke free and killed the doctor who was trying to inject the strange coloured liquid that existed in the vial, into my blood. That's right... I wasn't killed... In fact, I'm the girl that lived in the old Victorian style house, I'm the one who killed her family. That's right, it didn't happen in the 1800's it happened in our current time, and my delusions are what had happened to make me think that I was killed inside of the old house, when I in fact was still alive and thriving. My delusions caused me to see the men coming into my old house to steal things and I was the one who killed them, I was the one to shed their blood and watch when the officers came to my home to investigate.
YOU ARE READING
Playtime
HorrorA horror story that I originally had written for one of my classes but I continued to write long after the assignment was handed in.
