Do note, this story is REUPLOADED. This story is originally from LittleMinecraftGirl and since she no longer is on fanfiction, she has given me full permission to continue the story. The first 2 chapters were written by LittleMinecraftGirl and I give her full credit for them. I had only done minor editing of the first 2 chapters so they are true to there origins. The rest of the story is written by me, so I hope you enjoy.
Also go check out the original writer on wattpad under the name:MunchingSparkelzGirl
Chapter One: The Man in Shackles
I heard him screaming. That's all he does. Scream, scream, scream. I rubbed my face, tired. I'd taken so many trains to get to the Asylum to visit my brother. The Asylum. Its official name was the West London Asylum for the Mentally Challenged. But to everyone it was just the Asylum. I walked down the halls, the nurse beside me jumping every time a particularly loud shriek echoed out of the cells. So she was practically jumping every second step. I walked, my fingers looping together and then unwinding, and then repeating the process. I didn't want to be here, but I was supposed to see Casey once a month. My poor, bat-shit crazy older brother. He'd seen some terrible things which had driven him over the edge. Like, the second terrorist attack in America. He'd been there, and he'd watched as buildings crumbled and people burnt like human candlesticks. I shivered. I much preferred my gloomy, rainy London. We reached a large, heavy metal door with a sign hanging on it, the bold letters reading:
CHO, CASEY. 23. ROOM 1403
The nurse pulled a key off the hook next to the door, and inserted it into the lock, twisting. I heard the heavy-duty locks clanging, and then the large metal door swung open with a squeal. The boy inside didn't move. He was huddled in the corner, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth.
"I'll leave you to him. Knock when you want out," the nurse said quickly, stepping out and swinging the door shut. I put my hand on the door, briefly wishing I could just go and pretend this never happened. I sighed, my fingers leaving the cold, cool door. I turned slowly. Sudden movements frightened him.
"Casey," I said softly. His head whipped up. Once upon a time, he kept his black hair in a fuzzy buzz-cut. Now it was long, untamed. No one could go near him with scissors. Another thing about Casey Cho: He used to be a tad overweight. Now he's skin and bones. The few times they've fed him had been when they gassed the room and force-fed him through a tube. Oh, Casey. He once was my brainiac, my over-protective, kind, funny and caring older brother. Now he'd been reduced to a screaming, wailing shell of the man he once was, fighting against demons only he could see. I stared into his wild, shifting eyes. I fought back a sudden sob.
"You're not Casey," I whispered. "You're someone else." I wiped back a tear. Casey howled like a dog, leaping forward only to be yanked back by his wrists, the blood-stained chains rubbing at his already raw skin. Casey was gone. This was a madman. Suddenly crying, I knocked on the door and fled the room.
I sat on the park bench next to the fountain. I rubbed my eyes, my face still red from crying. My face is stupid-looking when I cry. I'm Chinese-American, but I'm also British. My mum's American and my dad's Chinese. I look... well, dad says I look Asian, with my facial features and my long, silky brown hair, but I have my mum's eyes. My eyes are wide and bright, and a nice shade of brown. Apparently, I look cute. I look down at my chosen outfit: black leggings, a patchwork skirt and black tank top. Inappropriate for the sudden change of weather, but according to my best friend Myra I looked fabulous. I pulled out my phone and checked the time. My train would be here soon. I hauled myself up with a sigh and walked through the park as a light rain worked itself up. I went down into the underground train station and stood by the platform, waiting for the train. I sighed. I'd have to visit Casey tomorrow so I didn't feel bad. The train rolled into the station loudly, and I stepped on. I stood, so a elderly lady could snag the last seat. I reached up for the railings, and I nearly slipped on my wet shoes as the train jolted and started forward. The lights on the train stayed bright, and everyone swayed in time with the train as we travelled underground, out of London and into the villages. That's were I live: West Lichminster. It has a stupid name, yes. Finally, the train jarred to a stop, and I exited, exhausted. Travelling made me tired. I don't even know why. Well, just one of the joys of being me. I sighed, walking through the streets of West Lichminster towards my house. A dirty apartment which I share with my mother and sister and the jar with my father's ashes in it. I go inside, walk up the stairs and enter my apartment. My little sister Renee was singing along to One Direction, which I hated. Mother was listening to the radio, tuned onto Dan and Phil's show. She didn't know Dan and Phil were crazy famous YouTubers. I sighed again, and walked into my bedroom and booted up my computer. I was a YouTuber myself, under the name of FourtuneCookie. I did vlogs and Minecraft videos, because it took my mind off things. Talking into a webcam was surprisingly peaceful. I had a habit of talking to myself, and knowing I was actually talking to people helped. I heard my bed springs creak and I stopped. I smiled.
"You're late," I commented, not turning, just continuing on with setting up my computer. I heard the smile in his voice.
"You're late, actually," he countered. "Was the three-nine late again?" I nodded.
"Yep. Its always late on Saturdays," I told him, and I heard the bed creak more as he shifted.
"Well, how is my crazy boy these days?" he asked.
"Still shackled and screaming at things I can't see," I reported, and I heard him sigh. I wanted so bad to turn around and crawl into his arms and sob, but I couldn't. After all, I was talking to air. My dad wasn't there. He'd died last year in the terrorist attacks. But now, I could hear him on the bed. If I turned around, I'd see him in clear detail, down to the shiny badges he'd earned in Vietnam to the greying stubble he got every morning. I was just... crazy. Like Casey. I was so close to diving off the edge. Casey was already there, and he'd be waiting with open arms. I only had one question: How long until I was there?
I stood inside the Hospital, waiting at the desk. They'd ran out of visitor passes and had to get me a new one. Five minutes late, I had one around my neck and I was walking along the pristine white halls towards the room I visited each day. I pushed open the door, and my best friend smiled at me, sitting up and putting her book aside.
"Hey there Bell. How's life?" Myra asked, and I smiled as I hugged Myra, sitting on her bed. My best friend Myra Patts suffered from a rare and aggressive form of Leukemia. She'd been in Hospital since Year Six. Her long, beautiful auburn hair and fallen out from Chemo, and she had no eyebrows or any form of hair on her body. One night when she'd been out in a short remission, we'd had make overs, and I'd cut up all my dolls and glued hair on her head and her brow. She'd loved it and we'd laughed so hard. We had good times, weather she was in remission or in the Hospital. But I was scared. She was fading. Even now I saw it, the gauntness of her face, the way she'd winced when she moved, and how thin her arms were. Like sticks.
"My brother's still crazy, Renee still likes the five idiots and I'm still talking to my dead dad," I replied, and she nodded thoughtfully, then punched my arm.
"You're life sucks," she giggled, and I smiled.
"Yeah, it does," I admitted, and she just grinned.
"Did I miss anything exciting in school?" she asked, and I shrugged.
"Year Twelve is nearly over. Its just tests and tests," I told her, and she smiled sadly.
"What I'd give for a normal day of school," she sighed, and I chuckled.
"School blows," I said with fake seriousness, "Its not good for your health." Myra rolled her eyes.
"All my doctors are freaking out. Apparently the slightest virus could conk me out," she said, matter-of-fact. I gulped. I couldn't lose Myra. She saw my look.
"Oh, don't," she groaned. "I can casually talk about death because its closer for me than you. So don't give me that look." I glared at her.
"No, you can't casually talk about death," I said. "Its too real. So shut up and eat your designated pudding." I ordered, and she snorted, picking up the little cup and spoon and opening the pudding.
"I'm the one dying. I should get to boss you around," she complained, so I grabbed her hand and moved it, jamming the spoonful of pudding into her mouth. She gulped hard and snorted out laughter.
"Bitch," she spat, slapping my arm. I laughed, and she smiled.
"Have you decided about Santa Barbara yet?" she asked softly. I sighed, my fingers finding the end of my brown locks and twisting them painfully around my index finger.
"I don't know. I want to wait until..." I said, not finishing it. Not until you're gone.
"You can't wait on me, Isabella," Myra said softly, taking her hand in mine. "I'll be gone soon, and you know it. I can't hold you back for achieving your dreams in America." I gulped, fighting back tears. "You can't let the dead girl walking pull you back. I love you like a sister, Bell, and you know that. But I'm at the end. I have maybe a few months, if I'm lucky a year. It'll be easier if I know you're happy when I go." I made a weird noise in the back of throat, tears falling freely.
"Don't say its your dying wish, because I will full on lose it," I stammered through my tears, and Myra laughed, leaning forward and hugging me. I cried on, and she pulled away and rubbed my arm.
"Calm down, Bell," she said. "I'm still here. Savour it now. But right now, your getting my laptop and we're going to watch YouTube." she ordered, and I laughed, wiping my eyes and getting up. I grabbed a tissue and blew my nose before grabbing her sticker-coated laptop from her backpack and passing it to her. She opened it up and went into YouTube, and typed in CaptainSparklez. CaptainSparklez is our secret. We watch all his vlogs and Minecraft videos and plan our trips to Minecon and what we'd say to him and what we'd do. We figured that since we were eighteen and he was twenty-one, there wasn't too much of an age gap. Yes, we both had huge crushes on him. We watched his latest Vlog, and then decided to re-watch his Sky block series with Mark and Nick. Myra had a bit of a crush on Mark, and I teased her constantly. We laughed our way through every episode before visiting hours finished, and I had to go home and lie away in bed, worrying she'd go without me there.