AN: Hey all you people! I'm very glad to have you either (1) reading my story (2) teetering on the decision to read my story or (3) skipping my story completely! Well not so much the last one. Anywho, this first chapter is rather shorter than I had anticipated but hey I do what I can ya know?
Chapter 1: Paranoia, It's a Sign
Josephine Renee Hart. 16-year-old female, born March 7, 1988. 5 foot 5, 113 pounds, Caucasian, with German and English heritage. Mother deceased, lives with father Thomas Hart, in Tallahassee, Florida. Sophomore at Lincoln High School, 3.2 GPA out of 5. Failed the 9th grade for unconventional reasons. Extra curricular activities include Track, Cross Country, and Journalist in the school newspaper. Criminal record of vandalism and domestic disturbance. Served two months in a center for troubled youth. Multiple reports of abuse from the father but all claims have been unproven. All of this information, these facts and data, tell me everything I need to know about her. Yet I have no idea who she is.
She loves milk, drinks a gallon a day, whole milk at that. She doesn't worry about gaining weight. She loves running, everyday, every week, except for when she's not allowed to. Her shins don't cooperate and have a history of splinting. She loves writing, on most days. Her articles are usually well written and euphoric, you can see the excitement in every word. Unless she is assigned a dull topic, one she can't wrap her mind around. She loves her mom. Hates her dad. She's never quite happy. You can't look at her and see it but when she's alone she smiles with un-satisfaction tracing her lips. She loves the sun and rain. May possibly be bi-polar but with her there's really no telling. She has friends but isn't obsessed with them. She embraces alone time but not silence. If all else fails she talks to herself. She thinks she's crazy but my thoughts say otherwise. In fact, she's one of the most sane persons I've had the pleasure of stalking.
Someone's watching me. I looked over my shoulder and saw but precarious eyes. No one but the bystanders and it wasn't their look I was worrying about. After all I was in a Mental Health Facility, standing in line impatiently but not attracting attention. Compared to the usual that was something to be boggled by. I don't think I'm crazy. You can never be too sure though.
"Miss Hart, I need you to fill out this information before seeing the doctor." Sigh. I took the clipboard and pen the nurse offered me. I noticed how every object in the lobby was round, no points at all. The edges of the paper were taped down, I guess to not permit suicide by paper cut. I answered the questions to the best of my ability.
3. Do you have any previous history of mental illnesses or disabilities?
I can't touch my toes, does that count?
7. Have any family members suffered from mental illnesses or disabilities?
Yah my dad's a retard
18. Do you have sex on a regular basis?
I slept with your boyfriend just last night!
22. What was your purpose of visiting "Florida Council For Community Mental Health"?
Well I was hoping you could tell me that Doc.
These things become nature after a while.
Ten minutes later I was going out of mind. Who is it, who is it. They've got to be here. I can feel their eye's burning through me. My head snapped left to right every other second and my body jerked as adrenaline pumped through my system. I could feel sweat break through my skin and run down my face. My heart pounded a mile a minute and I swear if someone had been in the room they would've yelled cardiac arrest. This is why I came here in the first place, paranoia is a sign! But I can't stay here, they know I'm here, I have to leave now. Before giving a second thought I flew from my chair, rather ungracefully, and was out the door in no time.
My vision was almost blurred when I reached the outside. The sun blinded me momentarily and I fought through the haze of my mind to look for an escape. Somewhere I could hide and not be found. My mind was breaking down and I tried to keep myself together long enough to find shelter. So I ran to the playground, of all the places to go, and sat in a tunnel. I curled my knees up to my chest and didn't move an inch till dark. Not a tear fell from eye, although I felt the need to, but the fact was I didn't cry. One of my many personality traits.
It was strange how in the little tunnel of mine, or the city of Tallahassee to be exact, the searing burn of those eyes no longer affected me. Perhaps there was never one to begin with. Had I imagined it all? Took false comfort in a playground thinking I was saved from something that never really existed? It's possible. I might be crazy you know. I still wearily crawled from my nest and into the black night. The moon was my only light, the stars my guide. Not to mention a couple of street lamps. The air was baked with Florida heat and the humidity clung to me like a squirrel on an acorn! I guess us Floridians do have a little Southern Belle to us.