The soft and cushioned white walls stood ever so close to me. Close enough to touch with a movement of my long, pale arms, yet far enough to keep me breathing. I took notice to the humblest of things. A person's emotions. An animal's behavior. What lies beyond this Earth. What awaits us when death is sneaking up behind us. I've always wondered how I would die. Whether it be a cruel, painful death, or a quick, peaceful death. I've always thought it would be the first one, considering it may be karma catching up to me for all the things I've done. What have I done, you ask? You'll find out soon enough. My ears perked to the sound of the silver knob on the door turning to open the concrete door to my cell. I stared hard at the ground, making sure not to look at who was walking towards me. A figure kneeled down and broke my gaze from the floor, making my pale blue eyes stare into his deep brown eyes. We stayed in the same position for what felt like hours. I guess I had started to intimidate him with my infamous glare, because the man cleared his throat and shifted his body. Then he started to speak. "Elizabeth," he said, still staring at me, waiting for some kind of emotion to spread across my face. Too bad I had no emotion. Emotion was for the weak. "Elli," I corrected him, still glaring. "Elli," he spoke cautiously. He had a slight British accent. "Do you know why you are here?" "Yes," I said, breaking my gaze with him, finding a new spot on the floor to lay my eyes on. He scribbled something on his clipboard, then continued looking up at me. "Do you know where you are?" he asked. "Prison," I replied. He laughed. "If you were in prison, you'd have much worse living conditions. You're in the Jon Richards Mental Institute." "Dandy," I said sarcastically. "Isn't it?" he smirked. "What do you think about it?" "You want to know what I think?" my eyebrows shot up. He nodded. "I think it's a waste of time. Me being here, and you trying to 'help' me. No one can change what I've become...the monster inside of me. It's no use helping me. I'm a...a brute." Instead of commenting on what I just said to him, he got up with a grunt and walked to the door. On the way out, he turned around and said to me, "See you tomorrow, Elli."
I like it! It's really good. I have a feeling you have a good plot outlined in your mind. Hahahhahahahaha.
ՏʊƦǷƦɪʂɛ ʊǷԀɑƮɛ! :Ɗ Part 2: The gears in my head started turning as I realized that he was actually coming back tomorrow. He knows the things I've done. He knows that everyone's tried everything to help me become sane. Nothing has worked. Nothing will work. I shuffled a bit, stretching my arms out like the wings of a bird. The institute let me out of my straight jacket a few days ago, and it felt great. I had been in it since day one, and that was...according to the tally marks I made with my teeth, 364 days ago. Tomorrow will mark one year for me in this hellhole. One year that I haven't even seen what my 17-year-old self looks like. I looked at the jagged and faded tally marks on the wall to my right, thinking back to a moment in my past... 10 years ago - age 7 "Go put another mark, Elli," my mother smiled at me. I jumped for joy and went over to the dry-erase board that hung on our refrigerator. I put a little squiggly line next to the others, marking another "A" I got on a report card. "How many are there, Elli?" my mother asked me. "Count them." I light put my finger up to each line on the board, counting them in my head. I turned around and smiled to her. "16," I said. She clapped and held out her arms for me to run into them, hugging me tightly. "I'm so proud of you," she whispered into my pale blonde hair. I sighed as I remembered that great memory. That was before...the incident. 3 years ago - age 14 "Come on, honey, we have to go!" my mother dragged me out of the ice cream shop to our car. She was running late for her meeting, and needed to drop me off at home. We got to the car, and find that my mother lost her keys. She started saying words that a 14-year-old should never hear, let alone know about. She fumbled around in her purse for several minutes, trying desperately to find the key with the tiny picture of me that I had made her for mother's day 5 years ago. No luck. We started heading back inside the shop through a small dark alley, but were stopped by two dark figures in the moonlight. My mother held me tight, praying to the lord not to take our lives tonight. "Looking for these?" the man on the left said, dangling the keys in his hand teasingly, making a clinking sound as the key kept hitting the picture. "Cute kid," the other man smirked flirtatiously. "Is that her right there?" He started walking towards me, and my mother pushed him away harshly. "Don't touch us!" she huffed angrily. The men just smirked; I could tell since their smiles lit up in the moonlight. The second man came up to me again, and caressed my cheek with his hand. I heard a loud thump as my mother tackled him to the ground, and then a scream as a gunshot fired. My mother's scream. She was stretched out on the ground, warm crimson blood flowing out of the back of her head. "Mom!" I cried out involuntarily, moving to where her frail body lay. Sirens blared in the distance, scaring the two men into running away, leaving nothing but my mother and I in this dark alley. "Please," I sobbed. "Please don't leave me." She slowly opened her eyes and stared straight into mine, using all of the energy she had left to lift up her hand and point a finger to my heart. "I...never...will..." she breathed. I sobbed more, and she whispered something to me. "What?" I said through thick tears. "Just...remember..." she said. Those were her final words.
Part 3: I swore to that day that whoevershot my mother would pay. The police had come a few minutes later, and had to pry me off of her. But they were too late. The pool of blood around had gotten to a large enough size to tell that she was a goner. I never figured out what she was going to say. I thought about it every day. But there are some things in this world that are left unheard, yet are always whispered to you, without even knowing it. "Elizabeth Jennings," a woman with a clipboard came awkwardly into my room. "Elli," I corrected her. "Elizabeth," she mocked. But the next thing she said made me forgive her. "The head of the institute is upgrading you to one of our finest rooms." I followed her as she snapped handcuffs firmly on my wrists, the metal almost digging into my skin. She opened the door to a room with a bed, real walls, a white board, a window, and a chair. I stared silently as she led me to my bed, took off the handcuffs, and walked out the door, locking it behind her. I glanced at the window, gears turning in my head. I smirked. "Thanks for the upgrade, Frank," I thought silently to myself. Frank was the head of the institute. "You make this way too easy."