InsaneA Story by CatCrazy0430I woke up, hungover, in mexico with no idea how I got there.I wake up with a fuzzy feeling in my mouth, but don't open my eyes. The last thing I can remember was drinking with my friends at the bar. We had just aced our end-of-year exams, and decided to celebrate. I had drunk too much, staggered home, and crashed in bed with my dog at my side. With the darkness pressing in on my eyes, I used other senses. The comforting warmth of my dog lying next to me. The cool, floating feeling of the cotton sheets, with a high thread count. They were the only sheets I felt comfortable in. The white light shining through my eyelids. The warm summer breeze caressing my face. As I became aware of my body, I felt a lump on the back of my head, and realized that my ponytail was still on. I also remembered I had not taken off my shoes. I stood up, still not opening my eyes, and my head started spinning. I reached my hand out to rest on the nightstand, met only empty air, and crashed over. My eyes flew open, and saw a ceiling. It was not mine. As I got my feet under me, I staggered to a window and looked out at a vast horizon. “What the…” for it was not the one outside my humble Montana home. It looked like those landscapes That was 30 years ago. Now I live a broken life. A half life. The things I saw, the things I experienced, were all in my head. Soon after that, I thought the people who had brought me there were coming to take me away. I always kept a gun under my bed. BANG BANG BANG With the unerring accuracy of someone who spent hours down at the range, I shot all three of them dead, before I realized I was in my rose garden. They were my elderly mexican neighbors. When I went to court, my attorney pleaded not guilty, saying I was insane. During the court trial, I had another attack. I thought I was, again, in Mexico, being interrogated by drug lords. Screaming I would tell them nothing, that I knew nothing about their drug dealings, I collapsed. Soon after, I was put into a mental hospital. I sense I am near my dying days. Other people have told me about what I was like before that night of partying that ended so tragically. I was funny, entertaining, smart, kind, loving, and loyal. I had a boyfriend, named Mark. My mom had been a lawyer, my dad an astrophysicist. I remember not a drop of all this. The Caroline that was, is no more. I decided to write all this, as a sort of confession. I don’t want to die without telling someone, anyone about those 3 people that I killed. Their faces still haunt me. Caroline Danvers, May 14th, 2019. Caroline Danvers June 17, 1968 - May 15th, 2019 You will be missed. © 2019 CatCrazy0430 |
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Added on May 7, 2019 Last Updated on May 7, 2019 AuthorCatCrazy0430Annandale, NJAboutHonestly, just super tired. I'm a huge nerd, and I like dyeing my hair crazy colors. If you want to read more of my stuff, I post much more often on this website called prose. This is the link to m.. more..Writing
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