Open mind
  • Reads 32
  • Votes 1
  • Parts 5
  • Time 54m
  • Reads 32
  • Votes 1
  • Parts 5
  • Time 54m
Ongoing, First published Aug 05, 2017
I was sitting on my bed, staring into the mirror. Crisis management. That's what it was called. It was better for me to go there, I knew that. But it was so soon. First the doctor had said that it might take a while before she got me in there. I had been prepared for it. I would have a normal weekend with horse riding and after that I would go to that crisis management. I'd live there for six weeks to calm down; but mostly to be safe from myself.

I looked down at my left wrist. Fresh red lines covered my forearm. To be honest, I wasn't disgusted by them. Right now at least. Sometimes I wanted to vomit at the sight of my body. Sometimes I found those wounds pretty. I liked touching them and feeling that painful tingle. I didn't want to stop doing this to myself, but I knew I had to and that breaking out of the habit would make me feel better about myself. After all, I couldn't keep them hidden all my life. I was already tired of the questions of what happened when I was wearing a bandage.

I just hoped that it would be like the doctor said. That I could do my own things and that the caretakers were only there to watch you. It would be good for me to leave my home for a while; live my life just the same, but without the pressure of people I knew.

'Lotus! Are you coming for dinner?' I let out a deep sigh. 'Yes!' I yelled back at my mom. I wasn't hungry at all actually. With slow steps I walked downstairs. My last dinner at home. I should at least eat something in case the food there was terrible.
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Extinction

9 parts Ongoing Mature

I had been running for what felt like hours. My legs were burning, and I knew my body was about to give out. The tears that had long since dried still clung to my face. I was covered in bruises and cuts from tearing through the forest. Everything hurt-not just my body, but my heart as well. Just hours ago, I was at a motel with my mom, arguing about dinner, and now she was gone. She killed herself to protect me. That's what I keep telling myself, but deep down, I know it's not true. She was tired of running, tired of hiding. The hunters were close, too close, and to avoid being captured and tortured again, she decided to exit on her own terms. I had to get out of here fast. But I had nowhere to go, nowhere to run or hide-still, I kept going. Thankfully, I had good instincts and the one lesson my mother ever taught me: shapeshifting. I just needed to throw them off my trail. I glanced over my shoulder to see if I could spot any pursuers, but that was a mistake. I tripped and hit my head on a rock, and everything went black.