Hurt me once

Chapter One - Moving Walls

The hallway crowded with students span as Sarah's legs felt like noodles. Vomit slithered up her throat as she desperately tried to stumble her way to the school bathroom like a new-born deer on legs. Her knees felt ready to buckle as the anxiety pooled up inside her from all the eyes that stared at her. Not to mention the finger that stabbed the air towards her. Laughter sounded so distant and far away, yet so close and personal. She hated this.

Her new antipsychotics began to make her sick and vomit unexpectedly, her appetite shrunk to a minuscule percentage and her figure because just skin and bones. If she lifted up her school uniform, her ribs would stick out like a sore thumb against her pasty skin and bruised body.

Bruises? Well, the amount of times she abused herself and clawed at her thighs for not being motivated for finding new tablets was ridiculous. She was practically dusted in a black and blue coating of fresh sores and healing scars. Despite her mental cries for help, the monsters won't let her go.

Everywhere she looked, repulsive and revolting monsters surrounded her like evergreens and pines in a forest. They whispered and hissed the cruelest of wishes and worst of lies. This was what drove Sarah crazy, they would never go away, no matter what drugs she was taking or the amount of crucifixes that littered her home.

Multiple times, her family has tried to save her, offering psychiatric help or resolutions that many ill people would long for. Of course, she denied it. Why, you ask? Simple. She didn't need it.

Sarah knew something other than her schizophrenia was getting to her at this point. Not to mention how much pills, medicines and tablets disagreed with her. Anywho, back on topic, Sarah knew that this wasn't just a mental illness. She didn't know what. She didn't know why. She knew that she needed to do something about this.

Her mother and father are the opposite of supportive, they weren't even there. Her father left and took off like a bird when she was at an age she can't even remember. Her mother died only a year ago from a problem that even the hospital and judges couldn't figure out. Only her sister took care of her now. Her only ray of light in the world, her sister would do anything for her, so would she do anything for her.

However, in her current state, Sarah couldn't even think straight, her mind spinning behind her mocha skin and dark hair. Desperate for relief of the stomach acid that began to get ready to explode, she began to thunder down the hallways, disregarding the crowd of pupils that watched her do so. Running like a mermaid on legs, she almost slipped and broke something a bit more than a few times. It was hysterical to everybody except her, and she wished with her life it wasn't. Too bad the world was a cruel place where anything painful to a person was entertainment to another.

Alas, she found her destination. The bathroom. Wasting absolutely no time, she briskly stumbled to an empty stall and soon... For lack of better vocabulary, emptied the fluid in her stomach. Soon after, she slumped down and grasped her aching stomach, not even noticing the bellowing grumbles in her stomach and the screeching class bells.

Tears streamed down her face as the voices and visions appeared again. All she wanted was to get rid of them, to get rid of her manic behaviour, to get rid of her pain. She hated it. Everyday passed by as everybody waltzed along their lives with carefree thoughts, whilst she stayed in an eternal loop of self-pity and writhing in agony. This was all due to her father's genes, and she despised herself and her father for it. Even though she knew she couldn't help it, she hit herself every moment the negativity seeped into her mind and attacked her thoughts like hungry vipers.

Something wasn't right today though.

Usually, she'd vomit, hallucinate and pass out. Abnormally, she didn't feel like passing out. Energy and adrenaline coursed through her veins as she heard an auditory hallucinations that gave her something to look forward to. Hazy words and a small vision were directed at her; unfortunately, she couldn't figure it out. All she knew was that somebody was trying to reach out to her, hallucination or not. This gave her hope. This gave her something to look for.

No, no, no.

She's surely just going crazy again. The smell of the vomit sitting in the toilet bowl must be giving off some sort of fumes that is making her head spin or something. How in the world would a hallucination help her?

Except...

This wasn't a hallucination.

This was a vision.