Crazy in Love

Another story we had to write for Creative Writing, but our teacher gave us the title. "A Different Sort of Love Story" Obviously, I changed it. But hope you enjoy!

The guards, in the color of purity, shoved me through the bright hallway into the plain room. Before settling into a chair, I whipped my head around, glaring at them as they stalked off to torture another inmate. Grunting, I turned back to see John, my pig-headed step-brother.

“What’s up, Johnny boy?” I asked casually.

“You’re going to be released soon,” he stated, not once changing his expression.

“Yeah, I’ve been counting the days.”

“No, you’re being released today,” he emphasized.

Scratching what scruff on my chin I had, I frowned. I still had weeks left in this hellhole, or at least I thought I did.

“I thought my sentence was for another two weeks yet.”

“They’ve found that you’ve been quite clear-headed,” John claimed. “They think that you’re ready. So, you are to be released today before dinner.”

Released? That meant that I could start eating the healthy food I had before; I would be able to breathe the fresh air and walk among strangers again. Overjoyed, I sprang out of the padded white chair and thrust my hand towards John. He hesitantly grasped his hand in mine and shook it.

“Thanks for being here to tell me,” I exclaimed, before knocking on the door. A guard escorted me to my room, where I began frantically packing everything I had with me in a small suitcase. Soon, I would be able to return to my three lovers.

 

As I stepped out of my dark apartment, I inhaled the scent of Gen. The clear smell of cleanliness and purity overwhelmed me. I ran across to Jake Hawthorn �" whom I had seen resting in the same location for the past eight months �" and wrapped my arms around his smooth brown skin, ignoring the several pricks that had attached themselves to his skin. His bronze hair would soon turn green, while the growths of fruit would appear, as they had always done for every autumn.

I grinned as I fell to my knees and kissed Coffee. When I questioned her as to why her parents named her that, she had told me that they had been slightly insane.

“You guys are everything to me,” I informed the three.

Lying to the doctors had been the best thing I had done in my entire life.

Skipping across the park, Coffee caressed my bare feet, while Gen blew in my face. I passed many of Jake Hawthorn’s brothers and sisters. They smiled and waved their lanky arms.

“Hey there, haven’t seen you in a while!” one mentioned.

“Yeah, I got sent to the white place, but I’m back,” I replied.

“You taking care of Jake and the girls alright?” they wondered.

“Oh yeah, they were relieved to see me return home.”

Other people gawked, most likely not listening to the Hawthorns. Nobody did, but I gave them all the attention I could. They were very grateful for my kindness, so they knew there was some hope for mankind.

“He’s crazy,” someone whispered.

“I know. We should get him some help,” another mentioned.

I twisted to find the culprits, locating two old women chatting amongst themselves. I began growling under my breath, furious that they would dare to interfere with my life.

“I live my own life, you know!” I screamed at them.

They covered their chapped lips in surprise, wrinkled eyes agape. They looked at each other in agreement before hurrying off. I huffed, plopping on the ground to rest against one of the Hawthorns’ bodies, ignoring the pricks that must have been a skin disease of some sort.

“Jake must really mean a lot to you, huh?” a deep, woody voice asked.

I nodded. “Of course, Jake and the girls are my world. I was miserable in that white building. It was like an unbearable nightmare. They kept claiming that I was dangerously sick and needed medication, but their lies couldn’t fool me,” I replied.

After an hour or so passed, the sun began to set.

“I have to go home,” I told him.

“Okay, hope you have a nice day,” he replied coolly.

I turned over, about to use my hands to push me up. My right hand, now swollen, was bent. I frowned, trying to straighten it only to feel intense pain radiate. Looking to my left hand, I found it in a similar dilemma except for an odd green discharge emitting itself from the inner part of my thumb. Curiosity made me wonder why my hands were in pain.

Struggling to stand without using my hands, I made my way home. The three greeted me, asking if I was alright.

“Fine, fine,” I lied.

Of course, that night had been my most painful night. Every inch of my body ached with pain, while I tried to dream of living forever with my lovers. My brain’s logic was to see the doctor, but my heart told me to stay with my lovers. A doctor would notice that I was still crazy the moment I tried to explain. Of course, I hadn’t thought to lie, because the pain made it impossible for me to think. Three nights later, I died. My lovers had killed me. I found myself wondering what would have happened had I not been so madly in love; what my lovers had done after I died. Did they live on, forgetting all about little old me? I wouldn’t know.