I'm So Sick

“Look where you got yourself, Kitty. You’re going to hell.” I looked at my older brother who had a stupid smirk on his thin lips.

“Mom, tell Mason to stop talking to me!” I screamed at my parents, who were sitting in the front of the car. They were taking me somewhere, but I had yet to find out where exactly that was. I was going to be there a while, though; they had me pack a lot of clothes in my suitcase.

My mom turned around and gave me a sad look. Mason’s smirk grew even bigger at the sight of my mom turning back around to face the road ahead of us.

“Mom likes me best, Kitty. She didn’t even try to help you.” Mason whispered in my ear and I growled at him.

“Shut up!” I screamed, almost causing my dad to swerve into the other lane. Mason’s smirk just grew at the sight of my anger.

“Katharine, please calm down. There’s no need to scream.” He glanced at my reflection in the rear view mirror, meeting my eyes briefly.

“Mason won’t leave me alone…” I whined, crossing my arms. They never seemed to do anything when I brought Mason up in an argument. They’d just give each other the same sad look and then go silent.

I slumped against my seat and glared out my window, watching the boring, green scenery pass by as we drove along the road. It’s the same scenery that I saw all day, every day, and I was sick of it. I’m sick of trees.

We finally turned onto a long, winding dirt road that led up to a large, dark brown house that was a good two miles from the road. What the hell was this place?

“Mom, where are we?” Mason asked. Mom stayed silent and continued to watch the house as we got closer.

“Mom? What is this place?” I asked, since she seemed to not have heard Mason when he asked. I was curious as to where they were taking me.

“We’re at the Night House, honey. This is where you’ll be staying until you get better.” Better?

“Better? Am I sick?” I asked, getting worried.

“Yes, Katharine, you’re sick. Very sick. But you’ll get better here; we promise.”

“What? What am I sick with? Do I have cancer, or some other type of disease? What’s wrong with me?” My voice started to rise as I started to panic.

“Honey, you’ve been… seeing things, that aren’t there. We’ve talked to a few doctors about it and they told us you may have schizophrenia. Remember the time we took you to the doctor’s office and you got into that… fight, with Mason?” I nodded, remembering it well. He was telling me that the doctors were going to find something wrong with me, that I was crazy.

“Sweetie, Mason isn’t here. He hasn’t been here for four years now. Katharine, Mason died four years ago, when you were thirteen, in a car crash. Do you remember that crash?” I nodded again.

Mason was finally old enough to drive and he wanted to take me to the McDonalds down the street. I agreed and we went. When we were turning out of the parking lot and onto the road, a big truck rammed into his side of the car. After that, I have no recollection of what happened that night or the rest of that month; my memory vanished.

I looked over at Mason with wide eyes and he gave me a sad smile.

“It’s true.” He whispered. Then, he disappeared right before my eyes. My brother was dead and I didn’t even know it.

I am sick. Very, very sick.