Damned.

She sat on a stool behind her wooden painting board as she looked out from her hotel window. She sighed and sat her paint brush down, she had painted this view so many times. Every year for the last ten years her parents had made it a tradition to travel to Brussels, Belgium

Sam looked behind her to see her parents and little brother, Toby getting ready for the day, they were going bicycling.

“Why do we always come here?” Sam asked standing up.

“Because this is your culture, if you’re not going to paint then get ready because you’re going to come with us.” Her dad told her.

“Why can‘t we go to Mexico to visit mom‘s culture?” Sam questions with a changeling tone of voice.

“We’ll go to Mexico City next year if you want to.” Her father responds not wanting to provoke Sam.

“I’ll consider that a promise.” Sam smiles and walks into the bathroom to refresh for the day.

“I think the bicycling will keep her calm.” Mrs. Banks whispers to her husband.

“Lets hope.” Mr. Banks replies back.

“Toby don’t touch that,” Mrs. Banks tells her youngest child as he walks to Sam’s painting board.

But Toby didn’t hear his mother, instead he sat on his sister’s tool and stared at the painting, it was beautiful and so detailed, he felt as if he was actually staring out the window and not at a piece of paper. He brought his hand up and touched the painting, but he didn’t realize the paint was still wet.

Sam felt something like electricity run throughout all her body and shrieked furiously as she saw her brother touch her painting. She ran to him and grabbed him by the hair, she pulled him off her stool and threw him to the floor. Sam growled furiously and punched her younger brother in the face, causing him to yell out in pain.

Before Sam could throw another punch, her father grabbed hold of her and pulled her away from her brother. She started kicking and shouting incoherent nonsense. She was just so angry and couldn’t control it, she just wanted to hurt somebody and destroy things.

Sam kicked her father in the shin allowing herself to get loose, she ran to the wall and began kicking it furiously, and then everything stopped. Sam inhaled and then exhaled feeling a sense of relief.

She looked at her family, all three of them wearing the same scared expression. Sam looked at her little brother his eye was starting to turn purple, soon she felt regretful for what she had done, but he knew better than to touch her stuff.

Mr. and Mrs. Banks both looked at each, they both knew they had to do something, it had gone too far this time.

Sam stared out the car mirror, with each passing minute they got further away from the city, and deeper into the country, she didn’t exactly know where they were going, but she knew it wasn’t good.

Sam’s parents had decided it was time for an intervention, Sam needed help and quick. They had spoken to the Hotels manager to see if they knew of any hospital or institution that would help Sam with her disorder. The manager told them about the “Ashworth Hospital”

“People take their love one’s there when there is no hope left, but I do warn you, she might be there for a short amount of time, or she might be there for years.” The hotel manager had told them, Sam’s parents didn’t care about the amount she would spend there, they only cared about her being cured.

“Where are we going?” Sam finally asked unable to keep quiet.

Bother her parents looked at each other before responding, “It’s somewhere special, it will give you something new to paint.”

Sam could hear not only the truth in that sentence, but the lie as well.

An hour later Sam read a sign that said “Kasterlee” she guessed it was the name of the small town, there was really nothing around, just small old houses, a motel, something that looked like a diner, she kept looking out the window feeling butterflies in her stomach, she felt as if something bad was about to happen.

Five minutes later they stood in front of a building called “Ashworth Hospital”

Though, to Sam it didn’t really look like a hospital, it was surrounded by a fence with barbed wire on the top, it reminded her of a prison.

“Why are we here?” Sam asked, but her parents said nothing.

Soon a man dressed all in white came out of the building with a smile on his face, followed by two others, also dressed all in white, though those two weren’t smiling.

“Are you Mister. Peeters?” Mr. Banks asked the man as he shook his hand.

“Yes, and who might you be?”

“Harold Banks, we talked on the phone earlier.”

“Ah yes, about your daughter Samantha, correct?”

Sam looked at the man and then at her mother who had started crying.

“Yes, I’m very sorry about the late notice, but I know you’re the only one that can help us.”

Mister. Peeters nodded his head and then said “follow me into my office, and we’ll get the paper work started.”

As they reached a door that read “Head of Administration”, Mr. Peeters turned to look at Sam.

“Samantha dear, why don’t have a seat and wait for your parents to be done.”

Sam nodded and took a seat on a chair as her parents entered the office and closed the door.

Sam heard the other two men whispering to one another and laughing about something she assumed was funny.

“Een andere gekke persoon is aangekomen” One of the guards spoke in Dutch thinking Sam didn‘t know what he was saying, but he was wrong. Sam knew he had called her a crazy person.

“Ik ben geen gekke persoon.” Sam spoke saying she wasn’t a crazy person.

“If you are not crazy then why are your parents admitting you into a mental hospital?” The guard question her with an accent.

“I’m not crazy.” Sam said through gritted teeth feeling the tension in her body build up.

“Listen to her man, she’s not crazy, she’s delusional.” The other man said and both of them started laughing.

Sam scream and stood up punching one of the men right in the nose and then kicked the other, but before she could do any more harm Mr. Peeters came out of the room and ordered the other two men to restrain her, he took out a syringe from his lab coat and injected the fluid into Sam, and soon she had become silent and immobile.

“I promise you, she is in great hands.” Mr. Peeters told the Banks family.

Mr. and Mrs. Banks stared as their daughter was carried away out of sight.