• “rriiing… rriiing… rrii--”

    User ImageHmmm… Another message, seems I just keep receiving them since that incident. No one bothered me this much before it happened. Why do they care so much now? Nothings changed I’m still the same person and yet they’re trying to help now, what’s the point? They didn’t try this hard before it seems that all they care about is getting something from me, there must be a reason that they care so much now when they didn’t care before. It must be something they couldn’t get before something unobtainable, something only I have access to, but what? It’s so frustrating, and I can’t figure it out. Why do these things keep happening to me and the people around. Must have been something I did in a past life, but how can that be right I’m a different person even if I did believe in reincarnation it can’t be just to punish me for something I did when I wasn’t who I am now. I see no logic in it, it can’t be right, but what other reason could there be to explain the things that have happened to the people I care about.

    User ImageFirst it was my brother. I was only five and he just vanished from my life as if he never even existed. I remember all the times we would run around the house and see who could catch who first… He would always win. Then there were times when we would have to stop, and I would be taken to this building where it seemed that no life could possibly enter. They would make me do these weird exercises, which never seemed to end. No one tried to help me, not one. After a few months I could no longer play with my brother. I was at home but my brother was no where to be found. At first I felt he was still playing our game, but I couldn’t seem to find him. Then when I ran to my mother to ask if there was something wrong with him, she seemed to have no clue of who I was talking about. It devastated me I couldn’t get rid of this feeling that my best friend, the one person I thought would always be there for me was taken, as someone’s cruel joke. Over the days I was forced to get over it, and spend more time doing the exercises which were always unsettling to me. They were excruciating, especially when they did check ups. Their hands feeling all over my body, the drugs they would inject into me. It would’ve become unbearable if my mother wasn’t there every time the tests were completed. She was the only thing left that kept me going. She was able to make me feel normal, and make the days bearable.

    User ImageFour years had passed, the pain I felt of loosing my brother has faded, the tests and the experiments continued… Each passing day it seems that the tests, the experiments seem to get more shady. I hardly notice the hours I spend pass me by. They’re becoming increasingly harder to remember. Things keep changing and I can’t do anything, but my mother, she looks at me, she does the best she can to hide the pain. I’m not sure if she ever noticed the ways she would seem to leave me, even though I could always see her, she seemed unable to see me. It became harder, and she could no longer help me, but I was happy that she was there.

    User ImageOne day, I woke up unable to shake this feeling that something was going to happen and I’ll be incapable of stopping it. It hurt having these feelings and having no idea how to make them go away. What kid should have to deal with this, and why did it have to be me. I sat there doing my best to control myself, then it stopped. The feeling I had just vanished, I became scared beyond all measures. I was sitting there in my bed, the lights were dim, outside was quiet, calm, and unsettling to the core. It’s 3:45 I gather my strength to venture out of my room, the hallways were silent, nothing was there. So I began to wonder aimlessly around in the hallways, I get to the staircase, and I look down expecting something, but there wasn’t. I was relieved, so I continued to head towards the living room where my mother would always be sitting with her papers, she’d spend ours reading, and writing things down. The work that I would see my mother do wasn’t there. The stacks of papers with all her work written down, and the books she’d have laid out weren’t there. The feeling that I had when my brother was taken from me came creeping up on me, the happiness I had seemed to vanish. I ran up the staircase and dashed for my mother’s room praying that she would be there to comfort me, but when I came to the door which separated the hallway to her bedroom, everything seemed to go slower. I began to open the door the breeze seemed to come over me, I became weak, and I could see myself gradually fall as my eyes began to close. I was able to see the empty room, but there was no one inside…