So, I have been slack in uploading my second chapter but I had to STUDY STUDY STUDY for my exams the past two weeks! I also decided I needed to space my story out to create suspense and not make it too rushed etc. so I wrote myself an overview. This chapter is really short but I thought I should upload something! It's really good to get this story out of my head so read and review :)

CHAPTER 2

1 month. 1 month, 14 days and 7 hours to be exact, that's how long it had been since I made my promise. The words rebounded inside my tormented skull. 1 month, 14 days and 7 hours of thinking, planning and not sleeping, had led to nothing. No pristine beaches or glowing sunsets, no gritty sand or salty gales. Not even a waft of fresh, outside air had entered my system in that time. Of course I had experienced the beaches and sunsets, but they were purely psychological. Still, after all this time, without fail, the same nightmare would play out regularly in my head; the same beach, the same blast at 11:24, and the same excruciating pain in my lower torso, the only difference now was that I had learnt to hide it.

I figured that, by hiding my nightmare, the staff would see my 'improvement' and allow me back into the public unit, where I had been allocated until my persistent questions about beaches had made the nurses assume that I had become more crazy. They figured that my obsessing needed to be dealt with, so they locked me away in the high care unit; a place for nutcases who were too much for the outside world. I really couldn't understand the logic in that though. If I had learnt one thing it was that isolation really did send you loopy, I now understood why half of all horror movies involved some psycho maniac from the local asylum. The bright white walls of my 2 by 2 cell were like some sort of hypnotic force; sucking out the remainder of my sanity. But I held onto my beach.

On day 50 at 10:34AM, in the same high security room with the same white walls, something broke my isolation. Usually at exactly 8AM I would be given a bland breakfast consisting of sludgy oats and bitter juice, and I would only be interrupted again at 7PM for a dinner of corned beef and tinned vegetables, so this was strange. A pair of nurses entered my room with a suspicious looking briefcase. One nurse was about 50, with strict pursed lips and her hair flawlessly pinned back in a faded brown bun. The other nurse looked like she was in her 20's. I recognised her as one of the people who delivered me meals. Usually I ignored them but she stood out to me. She was tall and had nice eyes and, unlike the other nurses who just plonked my food on the table and left, she would always give me a small smile. These little things had made me trust her.

"What is going on?" I asked the nice girl, without looking at the older lady. At this, the two nurses unclipped the briefcase and spilled its contents onto the floor.

"We are going to make you look presentable, you have a visitor" said the older lady, as she picked up a hairbrush.

In the entire 6 months and 18 days that I had been here, I had only caught a glimpse of my reflection twice, but these glimpses had been enough. The first time I had looked okay; my dark hair was a bit knotty and oily, and my eyes had only showed a slight bit of sleep deprivation, but other than that I could have passed as a normal person. The second time was when I was transferred to the high maintenance unit, and that should have shocked the living daylights out of me, but I had been past the point of caring. Now, as the nurses attempted to make the matted mess that was my hair halfway decent, I stared blankly at my reflection.

The first thing I noticed was my eyes, which because my face was so thin, seemed to pop out of my head. They were wide and staring with a slightly mad tinge, which was reinforced by the dark, bruise-like shadows underneath my eyes. The blue of my irises was vivid, yet at the same time lifeless. My hair which, when I had woken up, had been rich and luscious and fell in long dark brown waves down my shoulders, was now a dead dishevelled mess that hung limply and down my back. My body was naturally thin, but undernourishment had made me thinner. Compared to the two healthy nurses I was a skeleton, my flesh merging with bone and my clothes hanging loosely around my translucent pale skin. Every now and then my body would twitch, adding to the crazy vibe. But then again, maybe I really was crazy. Maybe that was why I couldn't remember my life.

After about fifteen minutes the nurses stepped back from me and examined their handiwork. They had tied my hair back into a simple ponytail and disguised the dark rings under my eyes with a thin layer of makeup. The young nurse took my arm and led me to threshold of my cell, where I took a step into the outside world. Even though I was still in the psychological unit, this was the first time I had stepped outside since I had moved into high care 45 days ago, so it was pretty significant. I revelled in the glory and absorbed as much as I could of the bland scenery as the nurse guided me down the corridors to a big oak door. As we entered the large room I took in the sight of people, real life people that weren't dressed in nurses' uniforms, lounging and chatting on the sofas. As she directed me towards a small coffee table, I finally caught a glimpse of my visitor who was sitting expectantly on the couch next to the table. It was Dr. Thomas.