All In Your Mind
Natalie
"Stop pawing at me, you freak!"
For a moment when I woke up, I snuggled up to the warmth next to me, enjoying the feel of somebody else there. Then it registered with me. Somebody else. I shoved myself away from them, falling onto my backside in the process, glaring at Adam. Because who else could it be?
"I was hardly pawing you," he smirked, offering me a hand to get back up which I slapped away. I stood up myself, still glaring at him. The thought of him touching me while I was asleep made me want to freak out and scream at him, claw at his stupid smirking face. But I didn't. I took three deep breathes like the doctor told me to when I felt like freaking out and walked away. Adam called after me, but I kept my pace even and steady, ignoring him. I knew he wouldn't follow me. I knew everything about him, after all. The three of us had been so close. Adam, Sam and me. If there was trouble, we'd be in the middle of it. For a while it had felt like we were all getting better, helping each other. Then Adam's violent fits started getting worse and worse, until he attacked another girl in the ward. Me and Sam had ended up getting hurt too. He hadn't been here since then.
Part of me didn't want him to come back. I knew he'd be on different medication, ones that could control his violent temper. But I knew from the red vertical lines going up his arms that the violence hadn't gone, it was just turned inward on himself. I knew all about that, I thought to myself, touching my own matching scars. We all had them here, more or less. It was like our uniform. A uniform of hurt and pain and anger and isolation.
A feeling was swelling inside me and I clenched my fists, picking up my pace and rushing inside and straight to my room. Everything was closing in on me. The doctors all said I had control in my own life, but if I did I was blindfolded and was just stabbing blindly at the buttons. The panic ached in my chest and I curled up into a tight ball on my bed.
I dig my tiny trimmed back nails into the soft skin of my forearm. I wanted to drag them down, clawing through every single layer of my disgusting ugly skin. Stab into myself until I was just blood and cuts and nothingness.
Breathing was now impossible, all I could do was manage these tiny little gasps until my head was swimming and I managed to pass out into a cruel mockery of oblivion.
For a moment when I woke up, I snuggled up to the warmth next to me, enjoying the feel of somebody else there. Then it registered with me. Somebody else. I shoved myself away from them, falling onto my backside in the process, glaring at Adam. Because who else could it be?
"I was hardly pawing you," he smirked, offering me a hand to get back up which I slapped away. I stood up myself, still glaring at him. The thought of him touching me while I was asleep made me want to freak out and scream at him, claw at his stupid smirking face. But I didn't. I took three deep breathes like the doctor told me to when I felt like freaking out and walked away. Adam called after me, but I kept my pace even and steady, ignoring him. I knew he wouldn't follow me. I knew everything about him, after all. The three of us had been so close. Adam, Sam and me. If there was trouble, we'd be in the middle of it. For a while it had felt like we were all getting better, helping each other. Then Adam's violent fits started getting worse and worse, until he attacked another girl in the ward. Me and Sam had ended up getting hurt too. He hadn't been here since then.
Part of me didn't want him to come back. I knew he'd be on different medication, ones that could control his violent temper. But I knew from the red vertical lines going up his arms that the violence hadn't gone, it was just turned inward on himself. I knew all about that, I thought to myself, touching my own matching scars. We all had them here, more or less. It was like our uniform. A uniform of hurt and pain and anger and isolation.
A feeling was swelling inside me and I clenched my fists, picking up my pace and rushing inside and straight to my room. Everything was closing in on me. The doctors all said I had control in my own life, but if I did I was blindfolded and was just stabbing blindly at the buttons. The panic ached in my chest and I curled up into a tight ball on my bed.
I dig my tiny trimmed back nails into the soft skin of my forearm. I wanted to drag them down, clawing through every single layer of my disgusting ugly skin. Stab into myself until I was just blood and cuts and nothingness.
Breathing was now impossible, all I could do was manage these tiny little gasps until my head was swimming and I managed to pass out into a cruel mockery of oblivion.