My Crazy Life

This is a short story i'm writing for English class.

          I’ve always been different. From the moment I was born I never cried or took a nap. And as I got older my weirdness just became more evident. I learned to read and if it had been up to me I would never have left the glorious pages that became my best friends. By the time I turned eight I had learned the world is a dangerous place, filled with monsters, cruel humans, and the occasional magical imp.

            At first my parents and even my friends could deal with my ramblings of “fairytale characters” and alternate worlds. But by the time I turned ten I had to go through this world without human friends. I never minded them leavening me; I always had my friends in books, the ones who could never leave me. I became Harry Potter’s closest ally, Rumpelstiltskin’s apprentice, and ran along side Katniss fighting for our lives. I learned over time to stop telling my parents of these adventures and to just get on with living my life.

            But on the day I turned fifteen I could not hold in my undertakings any longer. So when my family asked my what I wished for I shouted out “I just want you to understand that the friends I have in my books are real. It does not mater if I have none in this world because Anna Grayson, Peter Bishop, and Cinna. My friends are “imaginary” people but that does not mean I’m alone!” After a few moments of complete silence my mother ran to my side, my father pulled out his cell and dialed the freak show doctors, and my extended family snuck out of the house before their kids could get any ideas.

            Once we were alone my Mom took me to the living room and sat me down on the couch. She asked, “Scarlet, dear, how long have you been seeing these…people?” I answered, “Mom, for as long as I’ve been able to read I’ve been able to see them. But over the last few years they’ve become my friends.” My Dad finished talking to the hospital and pulled my Mom into the other room and closed the door. He thought I wouldn’t be able to hear them but I could. My Mom was sobbing asking, “What’s wrong with her? Who did you call?” He calmly said, “I called St. Claire's Mental Institution. It seems that she may have Schizophrenia. They said that they could take her and maybe even cure her.” I was devastated, my parents had always said they would be here for me but now they’ve decided I’m not worthy of their love. A few tears leaked out of my eyes and crawled down my face but I cut them off before I could make a fool of myself. My parents then walked in and sat down on each side of me. I looked down at my hands and said to them, “So you think I’m crazy. When I was younger you always told me to be creative and think outside of the box. And now you are just going to send me away just because I spoke my mind and have friends.” My Dad was the one to reply, “Well honey its not healthy for you to talk with people who aren’t here. You are very creative but this wasn’t what we wanted. And yes you are going to go away for a little bit but it’s for your own good.”   

            But that’s enough of my life story. What maters is that society thinks I’m crazy, my parents fear my sanity, and any moment now the man I’ve dubbed Dr. Hopper will be here to see if my “illusions” have gone away. Now I spend my nights in a padded cell and my days talking to the other crazies that live here. Dr. Hopper says talking to other people like me will help cure the problems of an over active imagination. I know he’s wrong though because none of the people here can see the people I do. The can only see another version of themselves.

            Everyday the big guards who watch us drag us one by one out of our cells and into the group room. This room forces us to communicate with each other. There are no windows, or books, or television, and the walls are painted a plain shade of white. The guards load as many of us in here that they can fit at one time. Each day the faces are shifted. Some stay the same: a man with a thick white bead and a belly of jelly, a woman who has scars over her otherwise flawless features, and a little girl who reminds me of Rue from the Hunger Games. When you first go in the guard are fine if you talk to a walk or even thin air but if you stay that way for to long they come for you. They lift you up and slam you down next to the abusive crazies. The ones who beat you up if you take too much of their air or stand in their bubble of safety. The smarter ones, who still have a few fragments of their mind left, tend to gather together in the center of the room.

I have a different approach. The moment the guards open the door and push me inside I take in the alteration of faces and practically run to rue’s side. Her name isn’t Rue, the first time I called her that she rolled into a ball and started sobbing. I managed to gather that Rue had been her twin sister’s name. The little girl’s name is really Eva. And I told her my name isn’t really Scarlet but Belle. Over the months we’ve been in here I’ve found out that the doctors think that Rue is a figment of her imagination. They think that she is lonely at home, even though she has several brothers and sisters, and made up Rue so someone could be there for her. When she had been told that Rue is and never has been real she flipped out and came up with the theory that she died early in life. Now Eva’s stuck here like the rest of us. Eva and I have become a support system for each other. Each day we sit on the floor side by side and talk of our friends. We talk about the unfairness of the doctors and contemplate ways to escape this dungeon.

            Today Dr. Hopper plans to meet me in the “happy room”. It’s a room filled with the softest materials known to man and painted with the most energetic sunshine yellow color I’ve ever seen. The tables are covered with unfinished drawings of irrational dreams. This room feels like a kindergarten room but without the freedom of windows. Windows are a privilege the insane aren’t aloud to have. I’m the only one here today. Dr. Hopper said he reserved this as a special gift for me. That means he either has something really good or really bad to tell me.

As soon as I think this Dr. Hopper himself walks in. He is a rather short man who always has a pencil and notebook in hand. Today he also comes in with a smile. He sees me sitting at the one table covered by books. Several are open and I am reading all of them. He walks over and takes a seat across from me. After a few minutes I carefully look up. Dr. Hopper says, “Ah welcome back to the real world. I have some good news, Scarlet.” Closing my hands into fists I whisper, “I told you I don’t want to be called Scarlet. My true name, the name my friends have given me is Belle.” Shaking his head he says, “I’m very sorry Belle. Anyway there is a new study out on how to solve your problem.” I almost yell, “I don’t have a problem!”  Dr. Hopper says, “You believe all these stories are real. Now back to the study, you so thankfully qualify for.” He starts to read off of a piece of paper, “For those who ‘live in other worlds’ place them in a dark room away from their trigger, food will be provided in none creative ways. Check on them every few days and ask them questions about what is real and what is not. (Make sure to attach them to a lie detector test first) Looking up he tells me, “It can take several weeks to a couple of years. But it should cure you.” He thinks I will be happy about this, that I will grovel at his feet to praise him. He thinks I want his help to solve my problem.

 The best of my fighting friends stand around me as I get up and stand right next to Dr. Hopper. Leaning down I whisper in his ear, “I don’t need or want your help. Why would I want to get rid of the only people I can call my friends?” Smirking I stand tall and with all the force I can manage I smack him in his face. He is so shocked that he and his chair fall back. I jump on the chance to kick and punch him till he is knocked out and bleeding. Ruby yells at me to stop. I look up at her and realize that all my friends are staring at me. I look back down at Dr. Hopper and know I won’t be able to stay here any more. I grab his ID from his jacket pocket and I look for anything that I could use as a weapon. The only thing in the whole room is Dr. Hopper’s pen so I grab it. And with all of my friends running behind me I sprint out of the room. At every scanner I flash Dr. Hopper’s ID and I see glimpses of questioning looks. I run around till I see the door of the group room in front of me. I flash Dr. Hopper’s ID and dash inside.

I look in every crevice of the room till I spot Eva sitting by herself. I run to her a lift her up by the arm. I shouted, “I know this wasn’t how we thought we would break out but we have to go!” With a few sniffles she nodded and we took off running. Eva struck a few guards as we ran and I hit a few with the point of Dr. Hopper’s pen. Katniss shot a few down with her arrows, Snape hexed several as well, and Silvertongue read numerous guards onto the pages of stories.  

Ultimately we got to the final door I waved Dr. Hopper’s ID and we were free. Eva and I kept running until nightfall and then we realized that we didn’t need our “imaginary” friends anymore. We had each other and that was all we would need. We still had our other friends in our minds but they didn’t speak to us anymore. They know that we have grown up and are protected by our success.

Eva and I slept in the nearby woods that night and in the morning we ran to my parent’s home. They welcomed us with open arms and said they were happy to see us. My Dad called St. Claire's and they sent a doctor to check if we were able to stay with my parents. After hours of testing, poking, prodding, and questioning they told my parents that we were legally sane. My parents were extremely happy and even adopted Eva so I would always have a friend close by. Now we live together as a happy family full of creativity and freedom. I know now that there is always someone here to listen to my problems and be my closest friend.

Author's Note

I will be adding more as i continue writing it.