Disclaimer: I do not own the show or any of the characters except Justine Halliwell and various descendants of the Charmed Ones.
Warning! This chapter contains references to insanity and describes an attempted suicide! It also contains infrequent course language.
Unlike the previous chapters, this one is set mainly in 2067 – 2071 in the future Justine comes from and has only a few jumps to the Charmed Ones' time. Another difference is that the majority is told in first person from Justine's point of view.
"It started in four years ago when I was twelve, in 2067…"
I was walking slowly towards the train station, heading away from my school. It was nearly 5 pm and nobody was out. Suddenly I heard someone calling my name.
"Justine! Justine!" I spun around but nobody was there, somewhat unnerved I quickened my pace and made the ten minute walk to the station in just over five minutes. A week later on the train to school I was talking to my friend Charlotte when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tall girl in a long white dress with flowing strawberry blonde hair beckoning to me. Turning to see her properly I somehow lost track of her, instead facing a solid carpenter with strong BO. I could have dismissed it as a trick of the eye if I hadn't seen her again later that day.
Over the next few weeks Ingrid and I became best friends, both of us outcasts. Me because of my eccentric behaviour and impulsiveness, my apparent inability to know right from wrong, and her because, well, I'm not sure why she was an outcast, she just was. Nobody would talk to her except me; nobody would even look at her or acknowledge her presence. One day Charlotte decided she'd had enough and went to join another group, apart from Ingrid she had been my only friend. After Charlotte abandoned us Ingrid and I became even closer, nobody daring to confront me about Ingrid. Gradually we began to delve into crime, just small stuff like nicking a herb from the neighbour's garden while in the shape of a mouse or a cat. But it wasn't enough to just have Ingrid; I wanted other friends, and a real life. With the amount of time I had to think I began to feel resentful towards myself and those around me. Nobody, not even my family, would talk to me anymore, nobody except Ingrid. But I couldn't tell Ingrid about the way the blade called me, beckoned to me the way she once had. I didn't need to tell Ingrid, she already knew. She'd seen the cuts, the blood; she was always with me and knew my deepest thoughts.
I was at school the day I snapped completely. It was the 19th of October 2067 at 10:31 am, during a spelling test. I even remember the word I was meant to be spelling; onomatopoeia. 'Onomatopoia' I was writing and Ingrid was standing beside me telling me that it was actually 'onomatopoeia'. Suddenly it all just became too much, demon battling, Ingrid, the self harm, the crime, the spelling test. I jumped to my feet and bolted across the classroom, ignoring my teacher's cries of "sit down, Justine" and reached the art section. I quickly rummaged through the supplies and found an art knife. In my rage, confusion and tears I somehow found the strength and courage to drag the blade across my wrist, pressing down hard.
"Fuck!" I yelled while Ingrid was screaming for me to stop being so stupid and go back to my spelling test. Alarmed by my swearing and sudden disappearance the teacher rushed to the art area which was behind a half wall. Seeing the blood, the knife and my injury she paled and yelled for a student to ring the office and get them to call an ambulance immediately.
"Get the fuck off me!" I screamed as she grabbed a cloth and pressed it down onto my bleeding wrist. The teacher from the next class over came in to see what the commotion was about. When he saw the situation he quickly told my classmates to stay seated and talk amongst themselves but not to come into the art area, he told the same to his class and called the teacher from the next closest classroom to come help. With two teachers holding me down my teacher was able to apply pressure to my wound, although I had all three of them flinching at my colourful language as I told them, under no uncertain terms, that they were to let go of me, it was too late, I was ready to go, it was best if I died. The ambulance arrived a few minutes later and, although I had lost a lot of blood I was able to be saved thanks to the teachers' first aid.
After my wrist had been tended at hospital I was transferred to MacCuinn Institute, the insane asylum. For nearly four years I stayed there and, after being diagnosed as a schizophrenic and depressed sociopath, I became friends with the other inmates and the nurses, not the psychiatrists though. Ingrid hung around, she came everywhere and nobody could convince me she was part of the schizophrenia.
"Is she here now?" Prue asked, jolting me out of my painful memories. They'd been silent the whole time except for when I described the art scene. Then they had gasped and Prue had moved so she was sitting next to me. Without disturbing me she'd quietly examined my wrists and pointed out the scar while I continued with the story.
"Huh?" I asked, confused for a second.
"Is Ingrid here now?" Prue repeated calmly although her thoughts betrayed her, she was nervous and even frightened. They all were.
"Yes." I said shortly, looking at where Ingrid stood, between my chair and Leo.
Several times over the following years I attempted to escape or to finish what I'd started. Eventually they placed me on the special program; one-on-one's restricted. It meant I was restricted to the ward but at all times I was to have a nurse with me. Four times a day the nurse would switch as the shifts change and for the 6 hours another nurse would follow me, I got to know them all very well. Unless one of them was sick or on holidays I spent the days the same way. At midnight Cheryl would start work and she'd stay until about 6 am, often I'd sleep through most of her shift but I'd always be awake for at least two hours of it, when Cheryl left Annie took over until midday, she would always walk me down to breakfast and to lunch, in the cafeteria for lunch Jacqui would turn up and Annie would leave. After dinner Nancy would turn up, just in time for evening meds at 6pm, she would stay with me until midnight when the cycle started over again. When one of them was sick Renee would take their place and if two were sick (which happened a couple of times, personally I think they had hangovers) the head nurse Gemma would follow me around. I didn't mind who was there, I liked them all but it was annoying being followed. Anyway, it was during Nancy's shift that I got sent here, maybe she's in trouble. They probably think I drugged her and escaped, I've done that before except it was to Lorrie before she quit, Annie replaced her.
Justine stopped abruptly and waited for someone to speak. For a minute nobody did, then Phoebe stood up and began to pace, firing questions.
"Do you have meds?"
"I've got them; she gave them to me earlier." Leo said and handed them to Phoebe.
"Is this what Darryl meant by the shrinks coming after you?" Phoebe asked, Piper and Prue sat back and let Phoebe interrogate their little nutcase.
"Oh, no, that's a completely different story about the time I went on a psychotic rampage and killed four people." Replied Justine in a serious tone.
"What!" everyone yelled, Piper scrambling away from the girl. A hurt expression filled Justine's face.
"I was joking, I'm not a murderer." She muttered. "But thanks for the faith."
"I'm sorry, but you've got to admit you did keep a lot from us." Piper said. Scowling, Justine nodded.
"But you never asked." She reminded them.
"True." Phoebe said slowly.
"What are we gonna do? Justine thinks that when she was sent back in time so were her records. The authorities of our time know her story, or at least they know all of it except that it actually occurred…occurs…whatever, in 2067." Leo informed them, calling their attention back to the problem at hand.
"Ok, can we get Darryl to tell them she's no longer a threat? Maybe we can get them to agree to her living with us as long as she takes her meds and sees a psychiatrist a couple of times a week. After all, Phoebe has a psychology degree." Piper suggested. Leo nodded thoughtfully.
"I'll call Darryl and ask. By the way, are we going to the anniversary and if so, how many of us?" Leo replied. Prue immediately answered.
"Yes we are going and as long as he can sort out Justine's mess then there will be five of us." She said with an air of authority. A shimmer of bright lights declared Leo's departure and the three sisters at once turned back to Justine.
"Ok missy, you're staying in my room. We can't risk you being alone at night and being driven to attempting suicide again. Speaking of suicide, do you have any sharp items, any belts, studs, and nailfiles?" paranoia shot through Prue as she ran through any sharp items she could think of. Suddenly she thought of the other ways someone could kill themselves. "Crap, we're never gonna make this place Justine-proof." She groaned and put her head in her hands as Justine meekly handed over the numerous blades she had securely hidden in her clothing. Piper held out her hand and took the blades from the teenager, the sheer number of them frightening the seasoned witch.
"How's this for an idea? Instead of making the house Justine-proof, coz she could always hurt herself somewhere else, we have nightly check ups. Just before bed each night at least one of us checks Justine for any injuries or items that could cause injury." Seeing the horrified look on Justine's face Phoebe offered a sympathetic glance but continued. "And I'm sorry Justine but it'll have to be a strip search, down to your undies and bra to make sure you're not just hiding the injuries under shorts." Justine began to protest immediately but Prue cut over her.
"Phoebe's right, Justine, it's the only way we can let you stay with us. We can't let you stay here and kill yourself. Either take the deal or we'll call Darryl and tell him not to bother talking to the authorities about your case." There was dead silence for about two minutes before Justine gave a small nod.
"Fine, but does it have to be a strip search? That's just humiliating! I'm 16!" she cried.
"Yes it does have to be a strip search. You may be 16 but you're insane, suicidal and a family member, a witch." Said Piper firmly, draining the last resistance from Justine.
How do you like it so far? Sorry this chapter was so long, I had a lot to say in it and there were a lot of issues that needed to be sorted in it. At least it isn't like one I wrote once that went for 16 pages on Word in size 10 font. Thanks for the reviews I've had so far, they've been encouraging.