The First StepA Chapter by TravelMySoulPAUL : NEW GIRLS. OLD GIRLS. She came into the asylum today, and
boy, was everyone shocked. Shocked, because she was
different. She had red hair, bright red, the
dyed kind. The kind that would suit her. The kind that does suit her. That kind of hair and blue eyes,
Blue eyes always deep in thought, Deep in thought yet never
concentrating on one thing or another. Another thing, she was pretty. Oh how pretty she was, her
beauty shined, almost as bright as her hair. Ha ha, get it? No? I wasn't trying to be funny
anyway. Tony walked past my cell, then
backed up, opening the door. “Rowalski.” I pretended not to hear him I
don't like Tony. Don't like any of them. Like those fake, made up "care-takers"
who ever presently watch you. Watch you, as if waiting. Waiting for you to do something
entertaining. Something entertaining to
brighten up their day. A day spent looking after
crazies. Crazies being me, being us. Us being people here,in the
asylum. "PAUL" he
screamed, trying. Trying to gain authority. As if trying to gain respect. Respect he's never got. Respect he'll never have. "JESUS CHRIST PAUL. ANSWER ME
WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU." He half demanded half asked. Asked for something that will
never happen. Things don't happen as you want. Want, everyone wants something, nobody
to be friends with. Except Lucy. Lucy, lucy, lucy. Luccyyyy . Isn't that just a wonderful name?
Lucy. It was actually Luise but Lucy
doesn't like being called that. LUUUUUUUUUUUUUCY. Lucy's dead. But I've got a secret. A secret that got me into here. Here in this asylum; this mad
house. A mad house where I belong. Belong here because of Lucy. Because of Lucy. Lucy isn't dead, she's just
living in my head. Her voice speaks to me. It laughs at me. Me, I , the one person that can
hear her. Lucy is my angel. My gaurdian angel. She is perfect. When she tells me to hurt people. People that have been bad. Bad people are not needed in
this world. A world in which Lucy still
lives. Tony is still there. Tony is still staring. "What do you want." I ask, almost demand. He is interrupting. Interrupting my thoughts of Lucy. “ DR. Bow wants you.” I sigh and get off the bed. Time to go see the person. The person that knows my secret.
GRACE : ALL ALONE IN HERE. I hate being alone. Alone, I'm all alone. They left me all alone. They abandoned me. They just abandoned me here. Abandoned me like my family had. Poor little abandoned Grace. Her family didn't want her
anymore. They couldn't handle her. Her and her Borderline Disorder. Who leaves a person like me alone? Only the people here. People, people, people. When will people learn to love
me? they won't , will they? well, they won't now. Not now. Now that I'm officially crazy. his voice echos in my head. MAKE IT GO AWAY. Away. Away. I want to run away. Away. Away. Back to daddy. Daddy who died when I was four. My mother couldn't bare looking
at me. Me and my 'issues'. 'Issues' that she couldn't
handle. So she dumped me at my aunts
house and ran. She "traveled" the
world. Never coming back. Perhaps she'd gotten married to
some native on a excluded island. Sounds like her. To my gorgeous, beautiful, talented
mother I was unwanted. I was always unwanted. There is a pain where my heart
should be I squeeze my eyes shut. I hope she's dead. I hope she rots. I do have issues. The kind of issues that there is
no cure for. The type that puts you on a life
full of drugs. I remember Drake. Drake, oh how I loved Drake. He was my first and only. I loved him. I remember when he took me aside. He took me aside and told me. "I can't handle you any
more, Your just too much! Your nuts, really, every female
friend I have you suspect I'm having an affair
with, God d****t grace. ENOUGH'S
ENOUGH." And then, I still remember
trying to throw a bottle at his head. A glass one. The type that makes you bleed. CHARLIE TOO LONG
TO REMEMBER. I was harassed as a kid. I had this nanny and she had the
softest hands. You know? The type of hands you just want
to melt into. The creamy, milky hands of a
perfect mother. But what she did with those
hands. What she did was pure evil. I've been in here ever since
then. Ever since I was five. Locked away from the outside
evil. I don't know. I'm pretty used to it. People come and go, I haven't been able to go yet. But I'll get there. Some people here are pretty cool. Like, Ok, they're all crazy. Crazy enough to get into a mad
house. But then again, I've been in the
mad house since I was five. It's my home. A home not asked for. I haven't been home for the past three years. it's too long to remember. Remember what my mom looks like. Remember how my dad smiles. Remember. Is Angie still a baby? Is my room still my room. This room has been my room. This plain, white room. This white room with no sharp
objects. The safer the better. What is actually better. I just got back from Dr.Bow. Dr. Bow the pretty therapist. The pretty therapist that acts
like a mommy. The mommy therapist that can be
strict. But I think Dr.Bow only acts
like that to me. Because to me, she is my second
mom. She is the person that has
looked after me since the age of five. The person I can tell almost
anything to. ALMOST anything. Not that. Never that. That is my secret. My biggest secret. A secret Dr. Bow doesn't know. Dr.Bow told me to remember. Remember everything. I need to remember everything
now she said. It is needed. Before I can be cured. Cured from all this. But do I want to be cured? I don't know. I will try. Try to remember. Remember all the things I tried
so hard to forget. © 2010 TravelMySoulFeatured Review
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