Jubilant County

A Story by Samira2015

Centers on a schizophrenic girl who in addition has Deppression

There was blood on the floor, blood on the walls, blood on her body; but when she blinked again, it was gone. Her limp body lay there on the grey-stoned floor, unmoving. It was not the first time she had surrendered to the Institute's cruel ways. That's probably why she was moved to a different cell, set aside from the other occupants of this hell house; she was completely and utterly alone. It's not that she exhibited symptoms of insanity, no sir, but for some reason the guards found her "unable to cooperate peacefully among peers due to psychological concerns that have affected conventional life."
  Right. She couldn't change much even if she wanted to anyway. She was still the same Evelyn that was dropped off at the Institute by her mother when she was twelve. She still wore her grey tear-stained peasant dress, she was still barefoot. And worse, she was still in The Tower. The Tower was the name Evelyn had given her "living quarters." The "living quarters" had a single window above a cold fireplace that never lit to begin with. At least not while Evelyn was kept-sorry, living-in there. On the opposite side of the room stood a cot, its blankets worn and tossed to the side as though poisonous. Which Evelyn was convinced it was, for she felt a strange biting on her legs and back when and if she ever slept on the cot and not the grey-stoned floor.
A brutal bang on the door knocked Evelyn out of her reverie.
She got up from her fetal position and slid the panel on the iron door open so she could see her visitor.
The man at the door cleared his throat and handed her a tray. Her daily meal consisted of a burnt-to-ashes piece of toast, one bowl of soup that looked to be made from clay rather than broth, and a single glass of water.   The murky blandness of the food never ceased to amaze her. She nodded wordlessly at the man and shut the panel. Her breath hitched and she almost dropped the tray as she saw an image reflected back at her in the stainless-steal texture. A girl's face could be seen, her skin blotched and pale from the lack of sunlight. Her brown hair was in clumps and burly, as though it had not been washed in years. Which it hadn't. Her evergreen eyes had a swollen and wild look about them, as though they had been broken before, shattered. Evelyn shook her head, snapping herself out of the fear she felt of her own reflection. She gathered the tray and proceeded to throw its contents out the window. She downed the water, though. Water was the only substance that was desirable here. Or anywhere, for that matter. Actually, Evelyn no longer found anything desirable. She wasn't sure she would anytime soon either. Her life had been one big Shakespearean tragedy, starting from the day her mother found Evelyn kneeling in front of the altar with a knife pointed at herself with one hand and the Holy Book in the other. She had tried explaining to her mother that it was for the best she be gone, that it was for the best that no one remember. After all, a child like Evelyn needed special care and protection. People whispered about her, called her a witch; and men ran from her, their eyes wandering until Evelyn had felt every ounce of self-respect and dignity fall away. A glint of light caught her eye, making her turn to face the edge of the cot. She hurried to the edge and wiped aside dust that had collected through the years. It seemed as though something had been written on it:
Please enjoy your stay at Jubilant County Hospital!
A sick laugh blew from Evelyn’s mouth, slowly turning to hysteria as the sheer mirth and absurdity of the line hit her. Soon she was coughing and the guards came in the Tower and stabbed the needle in her back. The red substance took effect and started flowing through her veins, letting it calm her until she fell to the floor and drifted into a beautiful dream.
A girl ran through what seemed to be a wedding chapel. She was certainly dressed for the occasion- a flowing white dress with a single blood-red rose pinned in her hair. She passed the altar and came to a fork in the path. In one corner lay a single feather pen and parchment, the ink contaminating the paper. On the other side stands an ebony black table. A dagger was placed on it, the shadows casting a red glow on the knife.
"Which do you favor?" a voice asks, its sound reverberating through the chamber.
Evelyn grabbed the dagger.