Faceless Crowd

Everyone was staring.

I could feel my skin begin to crawl, itching and gasping to get away from my fragile bones. My palms already had pools of sweat collected, but my lips were dry as a desert by comparison.

My teeth were chattering- but it wasn’t cold. No, my whole body was shaking, vibrating with the need to get away from this place. Yet I was weighted to the spot by Responsibility.

The women with prams chattered noisily, as their children played with the Lego just as loudly. The radio played 80s classics in the background softly. I was too far away to overhear their conversation, but I knew they were talking about me, gossiping and snickering rudely behind their hands.

The pressure in the back of my skull was mounting.

“Look at her,” the first, flame-haired one, would be saying. “Isn’t she ugly? Look at her, with that potato sack of a shirt! I can’t bear to have her in my sights!”

“I know,” the other would agree. “And those arms! So, so thin! Doesn’t she eat at all?”

Horribly self-conscious by now, I pulled up my scarf and smooth down the front of my jumper. My favourite jumper. I’d hoped it would give me some confidence- it’s the first time I’d been out in weeks, and I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my mum’s insistent pleading.

But it hadn’t.

What was I thinking? To actually believe that something like that would make a difference? To make things improve? To stop people staring and talking behind my back? Nothing could ever stop that. It’s best I just hide away so no one has to have the horror of looking at my decrepit body.

Falling apart inside. Crumbling.

I stood up to leave, but that’s when a nurse called my name. A sharp sound of giggling broke the air; the mothers were even laughing at my name now. With my face aflame, I turned toward the exit, trying to hide behind the thin membrane of my scarf.

The giggling didn’t stop.

“Evie? Evie Buckley?” The nurse sounded confused as I turned around slowly, towards her voice. Her beautiful porcelain skin was creased in an unnatural frown, her rose lips pursed as she scanned her sheet. I envied her long golden hair, perfectly curled and falling down over her face in all the right directions.

I wanted to be her.

“Ah, Evie.” The nurse smiled when she saw me looking at her. Her face smoothed out with the smile, becoming seamless and perfect once again. “The doctor will see you now. Come with me.”

She made effortless small talk as we traversed the maze of corridors, never once breaking that smile. I began to wonder what she thinks of me. Does she not see me as a monster, like everyone else? Or is she just a brilliant actress?

It’s probably the second one, judging by her beauty. All the actresses are pretty.

The doctor was just as kind, and female. I didn’t recognise her. Where was Doctor White? I...I’m not used to this…another person to laugh at me…fantastic. What…is this some kind of bad dream? Nightmare? Punishme-

“Doctor White is on holiday for two weeks, so I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with me instead.” The Pretty Doctor smiled, her teeth just as brilliant and white as the nurse’s. I know it’s fake. She’s just trying to hold back from vomiting in the sink at my appearance

“Okay...So, Evie, how are you feeling today? Are you well?”

She’s patronising me.

She could see perfectly clearly how I’m feeling; my closed body language kind of gives that away. It was perfectly obvious that today, I was not feeling well at all. I felt awful, like any other day of the week. Nothing would change just because of the Pretty Doctor’s kindness.

Realising she was still waiting for an answer, I nodded wordlessly, tearing my eyes away to look at the fish tank. A fish tank in a doctor’s surgery. How cliché. What’s next? Policemen and doughnuts?

“That’s great. I’m going to have to ask you some questions now, Evie. Is that okay?” Her smile was stuck on her face like superglue, but that didn’t fool me. I know. I know that she’s just going through procedure because of the pay at the end. Her eyes must be ready to implode in on themselves from staring at me for so long.

Again, I nodded. I didn’t want to be here. I really didn’t want to be here, where everyone could see me. Even the pictures were laughing. Mocking me.

I’m going crazy. Inanimate objects can’t laugh.

But they seemed to be. Their faces were red and jovial, and if they had voices and movement, they’d be rolling on the floor, roaring with laughter.

I’m definitely going mad.

An engagement ring-clad hand waved briefly in front of my eyes. I gave a little start and snapped my gaze up, staring straight into the blue eyes of the Pretty Doctor. “Are you okay, Evie? You seem to be zoning out on me here. Is something bothering you love?”

The use of pet name surprised me. No one has shown any kind affection to me in a long while….it can’t be true. Inside, she’s plotting on ways to get me out of her office as soon as possible. Yes. That’s much more likely. Plotting to kill me, and how she can hide the corpse, even.

The prettiest faces always hold the greatest evil.

“I’m going to take that as a no.” She sniffed, picking up her papers and arranged them, making them into a perfect, neat pile once again, even though they weren’t in too much disarray in the first place.

OCD! My mind screamed at me.

“It’s okay to talk to me you know. I’m not as scary as you think I am.” The malicious grin says differently, lady. You’re not going to find anything out about me. I’ll sit here in silence if I have to. My mum said I needed to go, not that I have to do anything. There’s a difference.

“How about writing your answers down, if you don’t feel like talking?” The Pretty Doctor told me in a falsely sweet tone of voice, hinting at the fact that there is no way I can possibly refuse now. Seeing the horrified look on my face, her smile slipped a little bit, but only briefly before she glued it right back on again.

Papers were pushed towards me, and a pen placed into my hand. She wasn’t going to quit.
_______________________________________________________________________
In the street, they stare.

In school, they stare.

At home, even my family stare. It’s the same wherever I go. I hear the mutters and the whispers and the barely-there smirks and stifled giggles, just waiting to burst forth once I’m out of sight. I hear it. I hear it, and it hurts.

It never used to be like this. I never used to be so…paranoid. I never had to look over my shoulder and see people laughing at me, or the disgusted looks on their faces. Sometimes, I’m not sure what’s real and what’s not. “Perhaps it’s just your mind playing cruel tricks on you”- a favourite excuse of my mother’s.

The walls of this office felt like a prison. I was suffocating. Suffocating, but I couldn’t get out. Not yet. Not for another three minutes.

The dull throbbing in the back of my head had grown, and spread; now my whole head ached. It felt like a lot of pressure was building up there…but pressure from what? I don’t feel well. I’m going to throw up.

I need to go home.

At long last, the Pretty Doctor finishes with her analysis of me, gives me the diagnosis I’d been expecting- keep taking my medication, twice a day without fail- then I should be “just fine”. I didn’t believe her, but I took the prescription form anyway.

Paranoid personality disorder? No. I just see things as they are.

Some days, my mum struggles to pull me out of bed. I never wanted to go to school. I haven’t enjoyed it since day one. Why subject myself to the stares I could easily avoid at home?

Pretty Doctor shook my hand and smiled a goodbye, calling for the nurse to show me out. I saw behind her façade- she’s glad to be rid of me. The nurse popped up out of seemingly nowhere, and led me out, making the same old small talk as before.

When I got back to the waiting room, the two mothers were still there. Why? Don’t they have anything better to do? They were still giggling, still ignoring their kids and the fact the “sweet little boy” had just hit the “sweet little girl” over the head with a Lego brick.

A man coughed and turned a page of his paper. Immediately, my senses were on high alert, and my palms were sweating again, not that they really stopped. I stood there tensed, waiting to react to whatever it was he was going to do.

Nothing happened.

People say I’m stupid for suspecting everyone I pass on the street, as “not everyone is an axe murderer you know Evie.” They’re wrong. They’ll see. In this world, you can trust no one.

The pressure kept building.

I turned on my heel and began to walk hastily towards the exit , head down in an attempt to go unnoticed. The noises still followed me.

The street was not much better. This is why I hate living in London; so many people, crammed in one area, all with hidden agendas- some good, some bad, but none of them public. In the capital of England, you keep to yourself and that was it.

You’d reject what was different to you.

I never felt safe walking the streets of London, no matter what the time of day, and now is not much better. It was market day. Fantastic. More people. And I can’t afford a taxi.

I had to pick up my prescription though, but the pharmacy was a good ten to fifteen minutes away from here. I wondered why it was even necessary, as the pills don’t really help with my so-called “paranoid phases”- that’s a complete lie of course.

I’m not sick.

I walked as quickly as I could, but it never seemed to be quick enough. Every alleyway I passed, I’d nearly run past it- you never know what might happen.

Then I heard it.

The breaths. And the footsteps.

My feet tripped over one another, and suddenly it was like I’m Bambi on Ice. In a blind panic, I started to sprint, the images of my surroundings blurring into one big grey mess. Blood thundered in my ears and I could barely hear- but I knew they were following me.

And that’s when I struck the dead end.

Back flat against the wall, raspy, heaving breathes and I struggled to stay silent. My vision was swimming and the pressure in my head was up to bursting point, just waiting to explode. The footsteps that had been following me slowed…and they turned.

It was broad daylight, but I couldn’t see his face. At least I assume it was a he. They were tall, and broad shouldered.

And headed this way.

The pounding in my head got louder, drumming against the inside of my skull. My legs buckled, and I slipped down to sprawl useless on the ground. Like the piece of rubbish I am.

He kept coming closer. Heavy boots fell in a rhythmic step, echoing the frantic beating of my heart.

And closer.

Oh god….I’m going to die out here….I’m going t-

_______________________________________________________________________

What was this? The feeling of complete powerlessness and lack of control over my body. I would’ve brushed my hair out of my face, but I was way too weak to lift my arm. All I could see was white- the pure expanse blinded me for a moment, but slowly I began to see other colours, soft pinks of the bed sheets for examp-

Wait. Bed sheets?! Where the hell was I?!

A clink of clipboard against table echoed next to me, a nurse appearing by my bedside at the same time. This all makes sense now. They’d finally figured out I’m a mental case and shipped me off to an asylum…

So, why was my head hurting so much? Sedatives to calm down my insane struggles?

But…small problem…I’m not mad….I think. It’s difficult to tell sometimes.

“Ahh, good. You’re awake Evie,” the nurse smiled sweetly. Dammit. I’ve had my fill of falsities for the day, thank you. I don’t need any more.

“Why am I here? I don’t remember checking myself in anywhere… ” I asked bluntly. Something that’s gotten me into trouble at school’; my straight talking. I speak my mind…what’s the point in being something I’m not?

“You had a panic attack, Evie. You fell and hit your head, causing a hairline fracture in your skull. It’ll heal up in a few weeks though. You’ll feel pain and discomfort, but that’s completely natural…”

Wait just one damn second…

“How did I get here then?” I’m pretty sure I was alone…From what I last remember at least…wow, I really am going mad….Jeeze…

The nurse opened her mouth to speak, when a stranger walked in. I recognised his face immediately, and froze- the guy who had been chasing me before. Now I’m scared.

To my horror, he came closer, smiling and holding a bunch of pink carnations in hand, like he was my best friend in the whole wide world.

I don’t have friends. They always gossip about me.

“Hey,” He smiled, but even that sent terrified shivers right down my spine. What did he want? Why is he here? Panic attack? I…I haven’t had a panic attack in months…they must think I’m mad.

“Are you okay?”

He…he just asked me if I’m okay? W-what’s happening? Am I in some alternate reality? What…

Please. Just someone tell me what’s going on.

“You dropped your purse earlier. I ran after you to return it, but you were passed out by the time I got there. So..I called an ambulance. Sorry if it freaked you out or anything.” His smile was sympathetic, but sad. Sad enough that his eyes were cold and seemingly frozen.

The mysterious person backed off suddenly, waved once, and left.

What?

The nurse appeared beside me to take my temperature, and measure my pulse- all things that seemed unnecessary for a fractured skull.

“Do you know who that was?!” I asked her softly, almost timidly.

“Not a clue. Okay, everything seems to be fine, so-”

I’d already tuned out after that.