Blur Me Out

3

Normal. It's such a dim thing, yet I find myself fantasizing about it every day. Being normal, I should say. It's much harder than it looks. I don't know how billions of people walk around without horrible things talking to them.

I vividly remember when it first started. The images and voices. I was 7 years old, and had an imaginary friend, except he wasn't like every other child's imaginary acquaintance that they fantasized. I couldn't see him. His name was Barnabee. He lived in my mind greatly influencing my choices. Instead of asking me to play with him, he would encourage me to bite myself on the wrists so he could come out and show me what he looked like. He convinced me that my mother was a monster looking to kill because I saw her with a kitchen knife. That's when I started avoiding her and never quite stopped. When I turned eight my parents began to realize something was wrong with me. It was my first time in a public school, and I wouldn't talk to anyone. My parent's started to express concern when the teacher asked if i was mute. Then, as they observed me, they saw that I frequently talked to myself, but I swore on everything holy I wasn't. Rather, I was talking to Barnabee. Then, my visits to a psychiatrist started. Sure enough, something was very wrong with me. I was not normal, yet the quite opposite. Sometimes I think Barnabee grew up to become the demon on my shoulder, as they have a similar voice.

You mean like this?

I hear him speak, startling me out of my internal monologue. The voice grows eerily similar to Barnabee's as it echoes in my mind. It's faint. Deep and rusty like nails scraping a chalkboard. It feels like water being repeatedly dropped on your forehead and nothing you can do to stop it. The smell. The voice smelled foul, like meat left out to rot, and I reeled with disgust every time it spoke, but I've gotten used to it, I don't even flinch.

I shake my head, and the echoing of the voice goes away, whilst rummaging around Hayden's room for my pills. As I find them, I take one more, just to be sure.

______________________________________________________________________________

The past few days in Sonya's house have been uneventful. Hayden's avoiding me to no end.

I mainly stay to myself. I still remember my mother's saying. Speak when you're spoken to, answer when you're called. I used to resent it, but now, it's a moral I live by. One other thing that I've noticed is Hayden holds a deep grudge against his parent's and took amiss to every word they said.

I rise up from Hayden's bed, and walk down stairs. When I arrive in the living room, I hear the faint voice of laughter. For a moment, I think that it's just my disease, but then I realize, it is coming from reality. I freeze, and listen to the voices yelling playfully. They sound masculine, and they seem to come from underneath me. It's coming from the garage, where hayden's staying.

I slowly walk towards the noise; It grows louder as I grow nearer. Then, I reach a swindling pair of stairs. I walk down them, as they creak with old age. I am met by a door, and the loud bashing of rock music. I reach out, and open the door.

The laughter and shouting stops, and I slowly walk in. three teenage boys are currently staring at me, including Hayden, who doesn't look so pleased about my unexpected entrance.

"Who are you?"

A tan boy speaks. He seems uninterested, yet curious at the same time.

"I-I'm A.J." I say as I wave awkwardly.

"Are you Hayden's long lost beautiful sister?" Another one speaks, this one looks unruly, with a crazy look in his eyes.

"No" I scoff. Obviously we aren't related, as my deep caramel skin contrasts deeply with his deathly pale set.

Then, my eyes widen in realization. He called me beautiful. That's a word I haven't heard directed at me for eternity. Sonya's said it, but I consider it an exception; She's dreadfully biased.

"What are you doing down here, A.J.?" Hayden questions jeeringly, saying my name as it's vile.

"I j-just heard people down here. I-I just wanted to see what's going on, and I'll be leaving now." I said, trying to refrain from stuttering and failing epicly.

"Bye." Hayden says, fluttering his fingers at me sarcastically, before staring me down.

I turn around and rush out of there, almost tripping over myself in the process.

Thoughts run around my mind in circles. I can't help but obsess over what that boy said. I am...beautiful? Although it's only one opinion, my mind can't help but wind it into a new reality. How can someone so broken and twisted be a beauty? I grab my dictionary and look up beautiful.

Pleasing the senses or mind aesthetically.

That does not describe me in anyway. Whose senses do I please when I break into a psychotic illusion? Who's mind would be sated if they knew of the warfare taking place in my thoughts? So far, I have not discovered one person who thought I was worth it. Who thought I was beautiful.

Joyful shouting increases in volume, snapping me out of my depressed state. It's Hayden and his group of friends.

They run out, smiling when seeing me.

"Hey, A.J." The tan one greets.

"Hola, beautiful." That remark came from the crazy one, causing hayden to glare at him.

"H-Hi."I falter.

Every time he calls me beautiful, wind rushes beneath me. Not because of him himself, but because of that word, and what it means. If he knew what I could do, he would think of me a monster.

"These two were just leaving. See you later." Hayden says, as he pushes them out the door.

The door slams behind him, and he turns to look at me, his eyes smoldering.

I look away, flinching as his eyes proceed to burn me.

"What the hell is it with you?" he questions madly.

"What do you mean?" I say interested.

He breathes in deeply and drags his hand angrily down his face.

"Look, my mom already loves you, so please, keep your hands off my friends." He demands.

I try to think of something confident to say. Something witty and snappy to show him that I am not just a crazy girl. That I can be brave and charming. I can be smart and sarcastic and cool like he is. He cannot tell me what to do. I am my own person who is strong and independent.

I open my mouth to speak.

"Okay."