You May Be A Stranger

You can’t trust anyone, they’re all against you. The voices in my head said, chanting it over and over again.
I was pressed up against a wall, hiding from everyone, because they’re all against me, every single one of them are out to get me, and kill me. Just to let you know, I’m bipolar, hearing voices in my head all the time, telling me someone is going to get me while I’m sleeping.
I never sleep, it’s just one of those things I don’t need anymore. I was one of those people that never gets anywhere in life, never will get anywhere in life because of my bipolar thing. They’re going to get you while you are sleeping; they are going to kill you, slowly and painfully. A voice said, making me even more scared. I pressed myself flat against the wall, loose rocks digging into my back, by my spine, into my shoulder.
They will hurt you, they’ll make you cry. Someone said, another voice in my head being horrible to me, scaring me until I wanted to die. Another thing about me, I feel like committing suicide.
It’s a healthy, alive option that will one day be the only choice to make. This is how depressed I am. You better run, you better run before they get you. The voices chanted. It echoed in my brain, meaning double the voices chanting. I screamed, holding my head and kneeling on the hard concrete ground, the world spinning around me. Someone looked my way.
They want to kill you! A voice shouted, and the voice sounded scared. I’m only scared of the voices right now.
I may think I’m scared of the voices, but I’m probably not since it’s just the bipolar, the crap bipolar disease thing. I hate it, makes you even more scared than usual. Other than being scared of the voices, I’m fearless. Not even poison spiders can scare me, I find them rather cool.
I shivered, the sun beating down on my porcelain skin, into my green eyes. I hid into the shadow by the wall, not liking the light, the bright light placed directly in the sky, amongst the fluffy white clouds. The light, up there, is also going to kill you. A voice snapped. Does everything want to kill me? Is everyone against me? Is everything out to get me? Are they going to kill me in my sleep? No. No. No. No. These things will never happen.
The only person, who can kill me, is me. I am the only person who can kill me. The person was coming nearer to me, getting closer, and the distance getting shorter and shorter with every step.
I put my arms over my head, covering my head, as if I was protecting the voices hidden deep in there. No, I would never protect them, they can self destruct if they want, I wouldn’t mind, I wouldn’t be bipolar then. “I’m going to…” The person started to say, but it faded, and I was confused. What had the person said? They said that they are going to kill you.
No, they can’t kill me, I’m too young to just die now, if I’m going to die, I want everyone to know.
A public suicidal death, that’s what type of death I would like. I’m a strange person, who loves death, the afterlife and the darkness. I live in my room most of the time, in the shadow, but today, Mum said that I had to go get some bread. I haven’t been to the shop yet.
I had stopped when I had seen people, just walking casually, and then the voices chirped. That’s why I’m on the floor right now, that’s why I haven’t got any bread. Run. One of the voices said, and I took my hands away from my head. I took in the light, the person holding out their hand. “Who are you? Why do you want to kill me?” I asked them, shivering. They just blinked several times before saying, “I don’t want to kill you.”
“But the voices said…” I started to say, then stopped when I realised I’m the only person who can hear the voices in my head. The hunted are hunters as well, like me. I hunt sometimes.
Hunt what though? Nothing, but the human race is hunted and they are hunters, so I must be a hunter too. I’m sure there’s something after death too, I don’t know what, but I’m sure there’s something. I like the idea of reincarnation, it sounds interesting and it would be cool to see what you would come back as. I would hopefully come back as a healthy human.
With no bipolar disease. I’d love that; I wouldn’t have voices telling me that everyone hates me and all that.
My life would be amazing. I pulled out my heart shaped sunglasses and put them on, shading my eyes from the sunlight. Good, it can’t blind you now; blind you so you see darkness. A voice in my head said, congratulating me. “Bipolar?” The person asked, obviously feeling sorry for me.
I nodded, a hiccup escaping my lips. “Let me help you find your way home.” The person suggested, holding out their hand again. “But you’re a stranger.” I whispered, looking at the person finally. It was a boy, a random boy, and he was quite good looking. I smiled, taking his hand carefully, placing my hand in his. He smiled and pulled me up. I kept hiccupping, honestly unable to stop. “Where do you live then?” The boy asked.
“Just down here.” I whispered, seeing the special street corner, it has a single rose growing by the garden wall on the corner. “Can you make your way from here?” He asked me warily.
I nodded, walking quickly around the corner. He could have killed you, good get away. A voice said. I ignored it, trying to push all the voices out of my head completely, but of course I couldn’t do that. Mum was standing outside the house, her arms folded and her stare more like a glare than a greeting look. “Where’s the bread?” She snapped, grabbing my wrist.
She pulled me inside, and it hurt, my wrist is quite sensitive. “The voices…” I whispered when she let go.
“That’s always your excuse, isn’t it?” Mum asked me, staring at me. My brother, Gary, walked in. “Oh, the voices.” He said in a fake worried voice, and then he laughed, sniggering at me. I growled, which made him scared. Serves him right for laughing at my problem.
“Stop that.” Mum hissed at me, smiling at Gary. Oh there wonderful things they do for me. “It’s not my fault I’m bipolar.” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes out of tiredness. “Shut it.” Mum snapped, glaring at me with so much venom I stepped backwards. She just grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward again. She’s going to kill you, get something and kill her first. A voice snarled, angry at Mum. Mum’s name is Gertrude. I hate that name.
“You were planning to kill me all along.” I said out loud, without realising it. “What?” Gertrude asked, confused. “You are planning to kill me!” I screamed, finding a knife in my pocket.
“No!” She shouted, trying to grab the knife. I made a clean cut in her palm, the slice from her thumb to her smallest finger. She cried out in pain, covering the cut so blood couldn’t ooze out uncontrollably. “You hit an artery.” She growled, looking up from her hunched position. I just stood there, traumatized by what I had just done. “Bye, Gertrude.” I whispered.
I ran outside, the tears falling down my cheeks like drips of ice etched there. My breathing was sharp and ragged.
I pulled out my mobile and dialled 999, wanting the police or an ambulance to come, or maybe even both. “Hello, would you like the police, and ambulance or the fire station?” A lady asked me. She’s tricking you; they will all come and kill you. A voice screamed.
“Ambulance, Gertrude Anne Williams is bleeding, a knife hit an artery in the palm of her hand.” I said, panicking. “Okay.” The lady said, hanging up. The voices were angry, I hadn’t listened to them. You should have listened to us, be ready for death, it faces you, and you can’t defeat it. I screamed, falling to the ground. I want the voices to go away, I want them to disappear, and they must go, now. I thought of a solution. Suicide then reincarnation.
Sounds really drastic, but if you are me, you’d probably pick that too. I walked down the street, finding the nearest place to commit suicide.