I sat in the corner, my back against the bright white walls that stretched out on either side of me. The strip lighting on the ceiling high above me flickered and buzzed in the near silence that had settled in the room and now pressed in around me. A glare from the tiny amount of sunlight streaming in through the single window on the wall opposite me bounced off the fresh white paint that surrounded me completely and fuelled the headache building behind my eyes. I began to wonder how long it would last this time, whether it could be medicated away like the last one or whether this was the one that would stick. Closing my eyes I brought my knees up and rested my forehead against them.
With my eyes closed the voices began to break through my carefully constricted walls in my mind. What had been whispers before grew louder the longer I kept my eyes squeezed closed, slowly becoming clearer, one voice distinguished from another. At the sound of an all too familiar voice I snapped open my eyes, my breathing coming faster.
A light knock at the door interrupted my thought process and I heard the heavy metal lock scrape out of place and the creak of the door as it brushed the fluffy white carpet as it opened. She came in, shuffling about on the heavy pile in the carpet, her white shoes making barely any noise. Heading straight for the bed she straightened the thin cotton sheets and plumped the feather pillow before shuffling in my direction. I turned my head only slightly, watching her as she approached me. Her tight white dress clung to her overly curvy figure a little too tightly for my liking and she held out a small plastic beaker to me. Quickly becoming impatient she shook the cup, making the two pills in the bottom rattle. She huffed, long since having given up trying to converse with me. I held open one hand, raising it in the air till it was about level with her waist and watched as she tipped the contents onto my palm. One, a tiny bright orange pill intended to stabilise my mood and the other, a long capsule, half blue and half yellow, intended to keep me calm and rational rolled around gently on my hand as she shuffled off to fetch a glass of water.
I swallowed the pills and opened my mouth to prove they had gone. The nurse had only fallen for that trick twice; I'd hidden them under my tongue but had nowhere to dispose of them, so it hadn't taken her long to find out. Now she made me show her that I had in fact swallowed them.
She left the room, taking all noise with her, the loud bang of the heavy padded door echoing chaotically through the room. I dipped my head again, I had no reason to move. Seven months I'd been here Seven months and twelve days they'd had me locked in this hell hole of a room. I'd trusted my mother with my secrets, told her that I could talk to my dead sister. I gave her what she'd been searching for, the knowledge that her little girl was safe, and how did she repay me? I gave her some closure after a horrible time in our lives, and she traded that information for four padded white walls and a lock on my door. Twenty four hours a day I was monitored by the little camera in the corner. They called me crazy; said I couldn't be trusted with my own life. I didn't call her 'mum' anymore, she didn't deserve that name after putting me in here. She'd tried to put it right for the first few months, begged y forgiveness, said it was in my best interests, that she cared about me and wanted me to get better. Get better? Like I was ill, like I could be fixed. For years I'd thought like that, for years I'd hoped it was something that was wrong with me and that it could be treated and it would go away. Eventually I had grown to realise that I couldn't be fixed, that it wasn't going away. From there it took a further three years to fully accept what was happening to me and how to use it to my advantage. I was nearly nineteen now and I still hadn't mastered my gifts, or my curse depending on who you asked about my 'talents'.
I'd finally accepted them last year after they had let me talk to my sister, let me know that she was ok and that she was at peace and when they'd given me access to a world that could foretell tragedy. If I could use that information to cheat death, was it such a curse? Or was it a way to stop my family from having to go through any more pain?
I had to get out of here. I could help people. I didn't belong cooped up in here I wasn't crazy. Proving that whilst locked in a cell at the Institute for the Mentally Unstable wasn't going to be easy though... But I had to do it, if not for me for my twin sister. I owed her that much. I would be free, for Anna-Marie, and for me!
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