Punished

Cynthia.

She was hit.

She saved my life.

No.

"Cynthia!!!" I screamed. She looked exactly like me in the vision, bloody, impaled, someone who was going to die. I immediately dropped to my knees, and started to sob, taking Cynthia's place in the vision, my mother was behind me, yelling, she had saw everything. The doctors and police arrived in a few minutes, seeing Cynthia's condition, they just straight out told my Mom she was dead.

Mother was going to kill me for this.

She grabbed a fistful of my shoulder length black hair and pulled me up toward her.

"You crazy girl!!!" " What am I going to do with you? Oh that's right your punishment!!!"

Punishment?

I didn't think that would happen, I thought she was going to make me die, drown me or something, not punish me. That couldn't be the reason.

From the start, I knew mother hated me, she wanted me to die every day of her life, but didn't because father was there. When he became ill, Mother could have done away with me on the spot. Again, she spared my life. I found the reason a few days ago.

It was Cynthia.

She cared about her, she wanted Cynthia to have a playmate and friend. Cynthia never made a lot of friends, she was always alone. I was her only hope to make a friend and now that she was gone, mother had no use for me anymore, I was to die one day, but why would she go with this diseision?

"Your off to the Asylum!!"

I didn't know what she meant, I had never been taught the word "asylum" before, but I knew it meant something bad, not death but it could be something like torture.

I wished I could have screamed for help but mother pulled me out of sight into the house, I would have screamed if I knew what the word meant but being tortured all the time meant I probably thought it was a temporary dungeon.

Mother threw me in my room and locked the door.

I sat on my bed, mourning Cynthia, thinking what would have happened if I had died instead, maybe Cynthia could have been crying alone right now.

Probably not.

Mother would be there, comforting her making her feel better, taking care of her, that would happened if I were Cynthia. But I was not.

I suddenly wished that could happened to me. Then I wouldn't be alone right now, I wouldn't be rejected. Why couldn't mother care for me like she did with Cynthia? Maybe if I commited suicide, she would be happier, but no, I couldn't do that.

I stayed in my room for the whole day, but when I finally went to sleep a type of vision dream came up:

I was trapped in this dark room, a hellhole. But thorough the darkness I could see something horrifying, a girl, my age, strangled till her mouth was leaking blood, a man, muscular and blond, was leaning over her.

Drinking her blood.

This was the worst death scene I had ever witnessed. The girl, her face screwed up in terror and shock, was cut in messy long lines, gore leaking through it, the man was truly evil, doing something like that. I had heard the story of vampires, and how they killed and drank blood from their victims. Yes, he was exactly like a vampire. He turned a few seconds after I had thought that sentence, and gave me the most malicious look in the eye that I ever experienced.

I woke up screaming.

It was still dark outside, my hair was messed up from tossing and turning at night, I looked into my vanity, and my eyes had red circles over them, I looked tired and underslept, it must have been an awful dream them. I thought about father for a minute, he was so unlucky to turn ill, not being able to move and having to be fed by tube. I missed him.

So I decided to sneak out, besides, if I were really going to leave home for a long time, I'd better say goodbye to him, it was going to be a really long time before I got to see him again. The hospital wasn't very far from home, and mother would never find out about this. Walking would take 5 minutes.

When I got there, father was in bed, he had tubes in his nose that any normal girl would find disgusting. I didn't. He had all the normal tools taped to him but he didn't look normal, he had purple bruises all over him dark circles under his eyes, something that a beaten person would look like. I started to talk to him, of course he couldn't hear me but I did it anyway. I started telling him about all my secrets, including the vision I saw of myself dead. I ended the story with "Cynthia died today." That's when I stopped talking, if he could hear me, he would cry too. I wish.

When Father was healthy, me, Cynthia and him would always sit under a tree and talk about the future, Cynthia wanted to be a lawyer, like dad, I wanted to sing, But what was the point of trying to achieve both of those? Cynthia lost her life, and I was at the verge of losing a good future I planned for myself, and the dream I had, would I be just like that girl and die like my sister? But Dad could never understand my problems again being this ill. Again, I wish. Really, couldn't I just stop wishing and start working this out? I knew that would be hopeless. I had no power, trapped in a world of confusion and my own visions, my family just fell apart, I was about to be shipped off to some unknown asylum, and worst of all my visions were turning me toward the wrong directions I wanted never to go to.

I thought this sentence all the way to home.

The next morning, I was off. Mother and I were going to drive to the asylum, four whole hours away, somewhere in Mississippi , I kept wondering how I was going to survive there. Would an asylum be like a school? I didn't think so. Maybe a military camp? I didn't see myself carrying guns, plus, I wasn't a boy.

When we got there, mother kicked me out of the car. In the front of the asylum was a young, pale man. He guided me in reassuring me it was going to be okay?

Really? He was so nice, and I thought that maybe this wasn't going to be a bad place, maybe mother had sent me here out of sympathy, maybe she was being a little kinder, besides, how bad could things be?

It would prove to be alot worse.