"Amelia?" a high squeaky voice asked, snapping me out of my daze. I wanted to pretend I was somewhere else, somewhere I could be safe and call home. That place was now nowhere to be found; I wanted to run. Every muscle in my body told me to run but they wouldn't move, frozen from the fear. "Amelia?" She asked again, sounding kind of annoyed this time. "My name is Millie." I responded immediately, now I was getting annoyed. I hated being called "Amelia". That wasn't my name anymore. It brought me back to old times when things were… different. I wont say better because it wasn't, it was just a different kind of fucked up.
"This will be you room." She said pointing to a dingy old door that looks as if it could have been white at some time in history. There was a tiny window with bars at the top of the old door. I was too short to see through it. There was also a locked opening that I later learned was for giving me the steaming shit they called food. This isn't a room. it's a prison, I thought. I couldn't live here; no one should have to live here. Again, the urge to run came over me. I nearly drowned in it. I l peered over my shoulder at the two massive men standing over me. I scanned the dusty hallway for the nearest exit and forced my short legs to take me there as fast at they could. It was a few yards away but before I could get five feet away huge hands tightly clasped my arms. I was being carried back to the cell unwillingly. I kicked and fought and screamed but they wouldn't stop. They threw me into the tiny room and swiftly locked me in. I was a prisoner and this would be a war.
I took a deep breath and screamed as I pounded on the moldy floor. My screams echoed on the stone walls. It was a few minutes until my frustration level finally cooled down a bit. "I don't understand why they sent me here." I whispered to myself. They were the ones who caused me destroy myself. All the arguing, the yelling, oh and the emotional stress they put me through with the divorce. It was much worse than the physical pain I put on myself. It was torture. They sent me away to that horrible place to be put on "suicide watch". People walking around with fake smiles acting like they care but as soon as you turn on them they drug you until you lose all memory. I don't want to be another victim. I notice I was crying until warm tears were dripping onto my arm.
I peeled the bloody bandage off my arm and threw it on the floor. The blood had started to dry so it tugged at the fresh wound. I gasped a little at the pain but then felt bad for it because I know I've felt worse. The skin around the cut was red and puffy. It looked sort of infected. I lightly touched it and pain shot up my arm. I bit my lip to keep from screaming. I rubbed my fingers over the old and faded scars that were left there throughout my tragic lifetime. Each one had a reason but there were too many to remember so I didn't bother to. I didn't want to remember anyway, its something I try to avoid.
"Millie we're only doing this to help you. We want the best for you, sweetie. They will help you." My mother whined. "Look at yourself! I cant believe you've done this!" She grabbed my wrists and stared disappointedly at the aging scars and fresh wounds on my wrists traveling up my arm. Warm tears of anger formed in my eyes. I blinked a few times to hold them back. "You're hurting yourself and we're worried." My Father added. I know he didn't really care about me, he never did.
"Yeah right. If you really cared you would take care of me yourself like good parents, but instead you're sending me to a prison!" I yanked my arms free and backed away. "Do you know what they do to people in there? It should be illegal! But its not like you care! You'll send your only daughter there just to get her away from you. Neither of you care at all! You just don't get it! You see these?" I held up my arms. "Ninety percent of these are because of you! They way you treat me forces me to do this to myself. You blame me for all my pain! Do you really think I want this? Why don't you look at yourself!" I had such a fucked up family.
My mother was a tall, thin woman with short blonde hair. She always tried to stay neat and clean, it was a bit of an obsession. She sold overly expensive houses to unsuspecting victims. She loved it, it was like she was sucking the very life out of those poor people. My father was a short fat man. His dark brown hair was already beginning to turn grey an fall out. I blame it on all the recent stress. He "worked from home", in other words, he's jobless. He was a lazy fucker and I've always hated him even more than my mother. He treats me like shit and very rarely my mother would defend me… when they aren't fighting themselves. All I hear is screaming day and night. I try to drown them out with music but sometimes that's not even enough.
I sat on the floor of my tiny room. I would be leaving the next day but none of my things were packed. I wouldn't be allowed to bring anything anyway. The summer breeze from the open window made the candle light flicker. I held the delicate blade in the palm of my hand. Slowly I dragged the blade against the pale skin on my right arm. A six-inch gash oozed with blood. There was so much that I started to panic. I tried to look for something to cover the wound but when I stood up everything went black.
"It's not that bad here." A girl with long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and wearing a hospital gown sat next to me in the musty cafeteria. At first I didn't notice that she was talking to me. I tried to pick a spot by myself so this wouldn't happen. "I'm here cause I have an eating disorder." She made a face at the food on her tray. "I even tried cutting myself all over. I thought getting rid of some of my blood would make me look skinnier. Ugh, there was so much blood." I ignored her but the stupid Barbie wouldn't leave. "But then they gave me these pills. They keep me from worrying about my weight. They keep me from worrying about anything." I wrapped my arms closer around my body, trying to forget the old memories and to protect myself even though I knew it was useless. "So why are you here?" She asked in a cheerful voice. How could she be so happy in a place like this? "Well?" she questioned. I refused to meet her gaze. I felt like her eyes were digging into the side of my head. I pulled my hair to the side hoping to cover my face. I looked around at the other girls looking just as lifeless as me. We were robbed of everything that made us human.
"I wanna be alone." I mumbled. She didn't leave but she did shut up. She sat awkwardly at the broken table, her blue eyes fixed on my face. Her presence disturbed me a lot. "I'm Jessica by the way." she said shyly after about ten minutes of silence. I looked up at her briefly. She smiled at me and tugged at the sleeve of the ripped hospital gown. "I've spent the past few days at the infirmary cause my cuts got infected." Cuts? I tried my best to cover the scars. The cuts that weren't heal yet burned when I touched them. I thought back to my first days here I spent there too. I cut a vein and started bleeding out. I passed out in my bedroom before anyone found me. I was apparently rushed to the hospital and I woke up here. Once I regained some strength they gave me my own room, a cell. "I'm Millie and everyone hates me." I tried to force a half smile to lighten the mood but I didn't work at all. "I don't hate you." She peered at my curiously as if she'd never seen someone in pan before. "You will, just wait."
"I think we can fix you. We can get rid off all the unnecessary anger. It will just involve therapy and possibly a little surgery." The woman scribbled away on a clipboard as she spoke to me. She wouldn't even look me in the eyes. When she said surgery I panicked. "Surgery? What are you going to do to me?" I jumped from my chair and the giant man standing next to me grabbed my arm. Using almost no strength at all he forced me back into the chair. "Don't worry, its just a bit of exploratory surgery. We just want to see what in your head makes you the way you are. Then our goal will be to fix it." She explained calmly but I couldn't stand it.
"Surgery on my brain? Do you really think I'll let you cut open my head and poke around inside? You're the mad one, not me!" I tried to make a run for the door but a large man grabbed me again before I could reach freedom. I struggled to break free of the man's grasp but it was useless. "GET OFF ME!" I yelled and screamed and fought for my life. His giant hands were bruising my pale skin. There was no escaping.
"This wont hurt a bit!" The doctor stabbed a needle into my flailing arm. Everything got blurry and I started to lose control of my muscles. Still I fought to save myself. Still useless, but this time my body wouldn't even respond. My body went limp and I blanked out.
I used all the power I had to open my eyes, everything was blurry. When things became clear I realized I was in my cell. The doctor was facing the opposite wall while angrily whispering to a tall, well dressed woman. "YOU!" I yelled. He turned around and stared at me. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BRAIN? What did you do to me?" I begged for an answer and trying not to freak out as much as I was.
"Your brain? I did nothing!" She yelled at me with a nasty tone in her voice. I almost frightened me.
"You're a liar!" I yelled back accusingly.
"Actually she's right. She didn't touch your head." The woman interrupted our argument. "When your parents heard of the procedure she would be doing they called me. I'm your lawyer." She reached her hand out to me. I flinched and shrugged away. "Poor social skills…" She said to herself and she wrote something down in a notebook. I looked curiously at it. "This?" She said holding up the notebook when she noticed me glancing at it. "This is your case. Your parents realized what a terrible decision it was to bring you here and they want you home. Sadly its not as easy as checking you out. The doctors here believe you are a danger yo yourself and others and refuse to let you leave. I'm here to prove you're fine and send you home." I wasn't sure if I could trust her or not. I didn't want to go home but I didn't want to stay here. Either way I'm in hell.
All I people I've met but I'm not sure who to trust. The only person I probably could trust was Jessica. She was an airhead but she wasn't like the other girls. She seemed to understand.
"In a way it seems there's no-one to callWhen our thoughts are so numbAnd our feelings unsureWe all have emptiness insideWe all have answers to findBut, you can't win this fight!"
Welcome To The Family- Avenged Sevenfold