By Reason of Insanity

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Parts 2
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Reads 101
Votes 0
Parts 2
Time 15m

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I hate this place. I hate the nurses for giving me those tiny white pills. The pills make me woozy, and I can no longer see him. I miss him... I need him to survive this.All Rights Reserved

apparitions death hallucinations illness mental schizophrenia scissors stab trial visions voices

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December twentieth is the day I remember being brought into the asylum for the first time. Like any typical psychopath, I screamed. I cried. I remember snatching the nurse's hair until she screamed and I was slapped into unconsciousness and thrown into the room. The only difference? I wasn't a psychopath. For the first few days, I would cry maniacally upon hearing any nurse go by, to catch one's attention and tell her that I wasn't insane. "That's exactly what an insane person would say" They said, unbothered and it was as if my fate rested in the mouldy walls of the Asylum. And I soon realized that there was no use fighting for my life now .Which brings me to the present day, another one that I'll mark in history with red. The day I met him.

Picking Daisies (Book #1, Emily's story) by CallOfTheAlpha

Why I wasn't important. Why I wasn't worth it. Why I was invisible. Why I gave up. Why I hate myself. Why I am alone. Why I got rope. Why I got a chair.

I'm going to die in pain, in my kitchen. I can feel myself rocking. I need to remember. I need to. Oh help me please. I'm trying to picture her face. Her beautiful face. Georgia. I can't see her. No. All I can see is burning white. No I will not forget her. Not the one person I love with all my heart no. Not her. It hurts so bad. Not her. Never her. I love her. But her face is blank. I'm going to die, not even remembering her face. I can't even remember her face. Not her. I can't die without her.

He wasn't always like this... was he? Was it a specific moment that led to where we are today? Was I too blind to see through his façade? Was I blind enough to overlook his sociopathic, sadistic tendencies? No answers, I have no answers. But it doesn't matter anymore. Neither of us are the same people we once were. It's too late for him and I. We can't turn around from the grave sins we've committed. He's the monster I loved once but now, he's the spawn of Satan himself. I was once the girl he supposedly loved but now... I'm just an object of his torments. "You really think you'll be able to leave me?" The sinister look in his eyes keep me alert. "No," I answer truthfully as the blood dripping down my skirt. "You will keep me alive till my heart bleeds for you. Until you break me completely and that's when I'll take my last breath that takes me away from the man who created hell on earth for me; and that's when I'll leave you, forever."

CPA. Congenital Permanent Anesthesia. My disease, my curse. I had never felt anything in my life. Not heat, nor cold. Not pain, nor softness. I was used to it by now. As I was to the rest of my bleak life. My mother, gone. My father, not really there at all. I had my reprieve at least - in my girlfriend, Jamie, and our best friend, Andrew. When things start going south in the worst way - with hospital visit after hospital visit - I start thinking that maybe, just maybe, CPA isn't really my curse, but instead my salvation.

Almost 200 short stories to get your blood pumping, your skin crawling and your mind racing. Nostalgic, interesting, current, real-life experiences in a creative form. *disclaimer: some of these short pieces reference issues such as mental illness, murder and neglect. Please read with caution if you are sensitive to these topics*

Maybe things are messed up Maybe people are really annoying Maybe you hate your life But I'm here for you

A man begins to experience graphic dreams of being murdered in the first person. He soon discovers that his dreams may be more real than he thinks, as a serial killer emerges from the shadows and claims more victims. Working to find the murderer and the next victim, he'll have to endure more of his torturous dreams to find the secrets within them. With every pill you take, the deeper the rabbit hole gets.

The Body #3: Rogue and Euphemia by GroveltoHEA

I watched as my boyfriend saved another woman when a rival club shot up the clubhouse. He never even checked on me as he took her to the hospital -- and I almost died. So I disappeared for a year, and when I came back, he was waiting for me. He wanted to win me back. But the way he'd betrayed me...there was no way to come back from that. He was convinced he could change my mind. Or die trying.

"You are not created in the image of God God is created in the image of you" (Trigger Warning for: Rape, Mental illness, Self Destructive behavior and hallucinations)

The Torment

December twentieth is the day I remember being brought into the asylum for the first time. Like any typical psychopath, I screamed. I cried. I remember snatching the nurse's hair until she screamed and I was slapped into unconsciousness and thrown into the room. The only difference? I wasn't a psychopath. For the first few days, I would cry maniacally upon hearing any nurse go by, to catch one's attention and tell her that I wasn't insane. "That's exactly what an insane person would say" They said, unbothered and it was as if my fate rested in the mouldy walls of the Asylum. And I soon realized that there was no use fighting for my life now .Which brings me to the present day, another one that I'll mark in history with red. The day I met him.

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