Sasha's World

Sasha's world is one of hallucinations and paranoia.

Footsteps outside my locked door made me sit up startled and I stopped breathing until I heard the footsteps continue to click past my door. I shut my eyes tightly with an exhalation and I felt a soft hand put itself in mine and squeeze in reassurance. I focused on my breath, forcing it to slow as I lied back down on my bed with my knees up and my feet next to Sam’s thigh.

Sam placed his hand on my knee and I stared up at the white, sterile ceiling. I curled my toes in the puddle of Sam’s ink black hair as the pleasant air that once stood between us grew tense. Over my knees, I could see Sam’s unkempt hair. The harsh white lights on my ceiling reflected off of Sam’s hair and single stragglers of hair disappeared in the rays. Sam’s hand squeezed my knee briefly and a wave of relief washed over me.

I breathed a sigh but scowled at the pungent odor of my room. I was long use to the sterile scent of my home, but every now and then my nostrils seemed to want to shrivel and cease to smell. Despite that, I took in a deep breath and burrowed my bare feet further under Sam’s warm thigh.  

“I hope she doesn’t come today,” I whispered softly, sitting up and crossing my legs underneath me. Sam’s piercing blue eyes met mine through wild strands of black hair as he turned to look at me. There was the familiar tattered, once white, bandage wrapped around his mouth and neck that I knew covered the rest of his body and I reached out to touch where his lips would be. “She makes me forget you,” I said wistfully. “I hate forgetting you.” Sam’s fingers moved up my arm to touch the scars inside my elbows. The feeling of metal and blue liquid escaping into arm jolted in through my nerves and I jerked away from Sam’s touch. He grunted an apology as I wrapped my arms around myself.

Suddenly, Sam stood up, letting his hair cascade towards the floor, which swayed above the floor by an inch. He turned and waved a goodbye to me and I quickly climbed off my bed, my stiff white clothes scratching my skin, to grasp Sam in a tight hug. Sam grasped the back of my head, letting the short curls wrap around his fingers.  

            "Goodbye, Sam. Don’t let me be too lonely, all right?" Sam nodded, his head brushing against mine, and turned to leave. He opened the door and vanished through the doorway. At the same time, Ms. Alma walked in.

            "Good morning, Sasha," chimed Ms. Alma, almost forcibly, and set down the silver tray she was holding on the table by the door with an audible clink. "Did I heard you talking to your friend Sam?" Ms. Alma turned to smile eerily at me and I scowled back, not able to meet her eyes. I shook my head and lied.  

"You know you’re supposed to tell me when Sam starts visiting you, again," crooned Ms. Alma, her head cocking to the side. Her smile stretched to her ears as if her cheeks were being held up by a hook and string. Ms. Alma's vibrant red hair was pulled into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. A single red curl hung freely at the side of her cherub-esque face and freckles stained her pale skin. Ms. Alma’s white nurse's uniform �" a crisp collared shirt and a knee length skirt �" was white and stiff, just like my plain clothes.

 "It’s time to take your blue medicine, Sasha," Ms. Alma said, smiling wide. A scrape of metal against metal shook my spine as she lifted a syringe and a bottle full of blue liquid from the tray she set on the table. I instinctively grasped the inside of my elbows, curling in on myself. I held back a cry and shook my head furiously. Ms. Alma tried to convince me that it would make me feel normal again, but I knew better. All it would do would make me forget Sam and I needed Sam.

            “He makes you do bad things," Ms. Alma tried to tell me. Sam stood, shaking his head, his hair swishing back and forth around him. The boy with the yellow eyes covered in blood on that rainy day flashed in my mind for just long enough that I could feel the cold hilt of a dagger in my hand and Sam’s hand wrapped around my forearm. I blinked and the boy was gone, but strings had cascaded down from the ceiling and tied themselves around Ms. Alma’s joints.  

            I gawked as the strings jerked tight and Ms. Alma followed after them; she hung suspended by her elbows and neck, swaying threateningly. Her head dangled as if there was no spine holding the neck up, but with a sickening crunch, the head twisted around so that her face was upside down and hanging in front of her chest. Bloody, hollow eyes gaped at me and a revolting smile, held up my staples, greeted me.

            "Insane b***h," spat Ms. Alma with a sloppy wetness as blood from her mouth hit the floor. I tried to back away, but only hit my bed frame and I toppled back onto the bed. Ms. Alma rushed me screeching in a pitch so high I felt my eardrums shatter. Folding my arms over my head, I screamed, feeling the hot body of Ms. Alma overcome me.

            “Sasha?” crooned a woman’s voice as a calloused hand squeezed my shoulder. “Sasha it’s not real. Nothing you see is real.” Lifting my head, I looked through my arms to see a long haired boy with bandages on his mouth. Sam shook his head and pointed to Ms. Alma, directing my attention to her. I gazed into Ms. Alma's cold black eyes and she grinned at me like the marionette did.

Before I could protest, Ms. Alma gripped my wrist and yanked my arm out. I stiffened and tensed, looking desperately up at Ms. Alma. There was a grunt in my ear and Sam wrapped his pale hands around my arm and jerked me from Ms. Alma's grasp. I felt a tug underneath my shoulders as Sam pulled me to my feet and then pushed me into Ms. Alma. 

            Ms. Alma shrieked in a voice that was not her own as she tumbled to the floor. I was pulled once more by Sam and suddenly I held the syringe in my hand like a weapon. Ms. Alma had risen to her feet and more strands of red coils have fallen from her bun and swayed in front of her twisted bloody face. Frigid fingertips dug into my back and I lunged towards Ms. Alma with another hand holding my fist with the syringe up high, ready to strike.

I felt the needle sink in.  

            I yanked my hand back and dark liquid spurted out of Ms. Alma's neck. The syringe clattered to the ground and I brought my hands up to my mouth, gasping. My lungs seemed to stop working as I watched Ms. Alma choke on her own blood. I couldn't grasp what I had just done and if it was real or not. I dug my fingers into my scalp, breathing shallow breaths.

"Sam,” I whimpered and continued to Ms. Alma convulse and choke on her own blood. “Why’d you make me do it again, Sam!” Sam was nowhere in the room and the walls began to close in around me. I wheezed as my throat closed up and it felt as if there was a weight pulling down my lungs. I spun to the door and wailed when I found it was locked. I pounded my fists on the door, begging for someone to let me out. The creaking of the walls moving grew louder and my screeching intensified to drown out my fears. “Sam!”

            The door flew open and I fell into strong arms.

            "Sasha," said a sweet voice. "What's wrong?" gentle hands wrapped themselves around my shoulders and pulled me up; I met the kind blue eyes of Ms. Alma. 

Reviews

[JPDonelan]

Interesting read. A little slower than likely needed, but nicely done with some of the imagery and depictions of the illness.

That said, I do have some remarks, suggestions, and feedback to offer.

To start, I noticed a frequent grammatical problem. You often used "and I" in your sentences, but rarely put the needed comma before the phrase. Lets take the first sentence as an example: "Footsteps outside my locked door made me sit up startled and I stopped breathing until I heard the footsteps continue to click past my door." In this sentence, the comma in question would fall at the end of startled. The reason for this is that the word "and" is serving to connect what is essentially two independent clauses (or two self-sufficient sentences). Without the comma, disregarding grammar for a moment, the sentence becomes clunkier and slows the read.

You started a number of back to back sentences with the word "I", at least early on. Unless done with intention, this can make the sentences seem too samey and have a negative impact on how the sentences are read. Potentially, this could lead to the flow of the paragraph breaking and becoming awkward. Variation tends to make for easier reading and can help with flow.

In this particular instance, I would offer a suggestion, but first person is not a style I have a great deal of practice with.

On more specific issues, look at the second sentence, third paragraph: "use" should be "used" in the idiom "used to". The idiom is able to be picked up, but it did halt the read.

4th paragraph should probably be broken in two, with the new paragraph starting at "She makes me forget you". I make this suggestion for the sake of reading ease, and that the narrative between the first bit of dialogue and the second bit would serve as a decent point to end the paragraph. The resultant formatting tends also to be easier on the audience.

A point on adverbs, such as the one used in the first sentence of the fourth paragraph: "'I hope she doesn’t come today,' I whispered softly, sitting up and crossing my legs underneath me." The adverb in question, "softly" in the construction "whispered softly" doesn't really add anything. Whispering, by nature, is soft and hushed. So, softly is redundancy that pads word count but adds nothing. There are few other instances of this in terms of dialogue tags.

I would say take a look at your adverbs, dialogue tags or not, and determine if they are pulling their weight. Adverbs can result in weak writing and allow for less than optimal word choice (why use two words to mean the same, or slightly less, than one stronger word?).
I am not one to say to do away outright with adverbs, just be aware of when and where you use them.

With that said, it was an interesting read. Keep up the work.