It's to damn cold in here I thought. Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised since all offices are cold. And the psychiatrist's office was no exception.
So where do I begin. Let's see My name is Annabelle Hanson. I was diagnosed as "Criminally Insane" when I was 15 for setting my step father on fire because he yelled at my mother. About a week later they sent me to an adoption center with nothing but the clothes on my back and the prominent image of my step fathers middle finger as they drove off stuck in my head.
I stayed at the center 'til my eighteenth birthday. Lets just say the only present I got that day was $5 and a note that said I had to leave. Now since I was "Insane" the government couldn't just let me fucking live my life in peace. So they decided to make me go to a psychiatrist for "My own, and others well being."
So that's been my life for the past year. Everyday from 5pm-6pm I got to the psychiatrist after working my shitty job all day because the government makes me. And yeah I'm talking to myself. Get over it.
"Miss Hanson?"
"Yes." I said as I started at the wall attempting to pretend I wasn't here and that I was in fact at my apartment reading "Wuthering Heights" for the 100th time.
"Mrs. Thompson is ready to see you now." Said the stout woman who was sent to retrieve me.
"Okay." I said already wishing I could just go home and retreat into my own mind.
- Hi there. I'm Audrey and I hope you like the story so far! Ill update tomorrow but I really hope you enjoy! I have BIIIGGGG plans for this story! -
