Psychotic

Strolling through the dark forest and singing along to the melody the birds sweetly chirped, Rosalyn felt tranquillity wash over her. Her father, the King, had recently passed away, leaving her in the care of her malicious step-mother, the new Queen of the Kingdom.

The Princess had a luxurious life, what with being royal and loved by everyone in the land. She was kind, sweet and caring, and would go out of her way to help anybody who needed it. But it was her exceptional good looks which shone the brightest; her skin white as snow, her lips rose red, and her dark hair portraying the perfect contrast. Her beauty was that of a thousand angels.

But the Queen envied the teenager more than anything else in the world, and had made it her duty to obliterate the girl. Which is why Rosalyn ran away, in a hope to save herself.

Taking a seat on a fallen tree trunk near a stream, Rosalyn pulled her long, brown locks to one side and began to loosely braid her hair. She watched the water softly flow, losing all train of thought as the shimmering pool hypnotized her.

It wasn’t until a croaky, old voice spoke that she was pulled out of her reverie with a fright. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, child.”
“Ma’am, you have nothing to apologise for, I assure you,” the Princess smiled gently, the blush from her scare still present on her cheeks.

She watched as the old woman stepped closer, her hood covering the majority of her face which caused Rosalyn to be slightly wary. “Are you lost, ma’am?”
“A young and beautiful girl like yourself shouldn’t be out alone, especially when she takes refuge in the dark forest.”
“Excuse me?”

“You don’t know who could be lurking around, watching you from afar. You don’t know what monsters lie in wait, ready to pounce at any moment. You could very well be in grave danger and yet be ignorant to it all. Child, there are things in this world much darker than you could ever imagine.”

The old woman’s words sent shivers down the teenager’s spine, each letter flooding Rosalyn with terror. She still had no idea who this person was and had no desire to. All she craved was to be comforted and to be safe, which was most definitely not going to happen while in the presence of the old woman.

Standing up and brushing off the dirt from her dress, the girl tried her best to compose herself and come up with a little fib. “I really must be off. My family will be wondering where I am. Good day, ma’am.”

Just as she turned, she felt the old woman clutch her wrist harshly, long, ragged nails digging into her delicate skin and causing Rosalyn to cry out in pain. “Princess, one should not lie, particularly when one has no family who cares for them.”

More pain was inflicted as the woman’s nails pierced further into Rosalyn’s wrist, producing a river of blood to seep out. The ache was intense, both from the wound and the words spoken.

“You are only a thorn in the Queen’s flesh; a nuisance she has been burdened with. Just a rich, ungrateful child,” she snarled, blood spurting through her fingers as her hard nails cut through an artery.

“Leave me alone!” the brunette cried out, glancing down to her wrist which was bleeding profusely. Trying to shake free of the foul woman, Rosalyn snatched her hand back and held the severe wound to her chest as she backed away, stumbling over roots and stones.

“There’s no point in running, child. You’ll be dead in a matter of minutes,” the hag cackled, grinning wickedly at the weakening Princess before stepping into the shadows of the dense woodland.

Alone in the forest, Rosalyn could feel her life fading away along with the sunlight. Her blue and white dress was drenched in her crimson blood, her already pale skin becoming sickeningly pallid. The beautiful girl knew the ludicrous woman was right; she was dying and there was nowhere to go to acquire help.

No matter how much pressure she applied to her wrist, the blood, as well as her hope, continued to rush out. All she could do was wait for her last ounces of life to wilt, for death to consume her.

Falling to her knees, Rosalyn let a sob rip out of her as she crawled over to the fallen tree trunk she had previously sat on. She rested against it with silent tears slipping from her vibrant blue eyes, her strength diminishing with each breath she took.

Soon, her eyes fluttered shut, her body filled with a warmth that made sleep even more enticing. It wasn’t long before all feeling, all sensation, was lost. With one last breath, her world drifted away and let darkness destroy her…

“Rosalyn! Rosalyn, wake up!”

It was a faint sound, one that echoed like a distant memory, but instead of becoming quieter, it increased. However, it wasn’t the only sound that could be heard; it was accompanied by bloodcurdling shrieks, like those of a banshee.

As consciousness began to rush back, it was evident the screams were coming from no one other than herself. Her eyes shot open where she found herself to be in a white, sterile room, her body battering itself against the bed she was lying on, her wrists and ankles pinned down by leather straps.

“Rosalyn, please calm down. Please, stop fighting, just relax,” the same voice as before pleaded. Even though she understood the command and wanted to obey it, her body continued to struggle against her restraints.

It wasn’t until a nurse came into the room with a syringe and, with the help of other hospital staff, injected the teenager with a sedative, immediately quietening her. The brunette’s body ceased to move, her head lolling and her breathing slow. Rosalyn was more than confused.

A few of the nurses left, leaving only one woman and one man in the room with the brown haired beauty. She tried to speak but all that came out was a garble of words. Nevertheless, she pushed herself to ask the questions she needed answered.

“Wh-where am I? …Who ar-are you p-people? Wh-why am I-I tied down?”

“Rosalyn, you’re in Bennington Psychiatric Hospital. You attacked a kitchen porter, taking a knife from her before attempting to kill yourself. You don’t remember any of this, do you?” the man wearing a white coat replied, baffling the brunette even more.
“Wh-what…why? I-I don’t understand…I didn’t do this. It…it was the old woman in the forest, sh-she attacked me…”

The two doctors exchanged looks, the woman writing something down on a clipboard. The male doctor took a seat on the end of the bed, looking at the teenager with sincerity. “Ros, there wasn’t an old woman, and you weren’t in the forest. You…you have paranoid schizophrenia. What you think happened wasn’t real; you imagined it.”

“Wh… no. No! No, no, no! I-I didn’t make this up, you have to believe me! Sh-she cut me, she w-wants me dead!” she exclaimed, tears filling her eyes.
“No one wants you dead, Rosalyn. That is all in your head. It’s the illness that’s making you think like that.”

“But…but there was bl-blood everywhere and…and…” tears quickly descended from her gleaming blue eyes as confusion and fear coursed through her veins. Nothing made any sense to the girl and she felt more alone than she ever thought possible. “Wh-where are my parents?”

“Ros, you live here, you have done for the past 3 years. When you first got sick, your parents were the focus of your assaults, so they admitted you into our care. They…well, they moved away not long after.”

The brunette cried quietly while trying to hide her face in the pillow her head rested on. What the doctors were telling her made her feel like an animal, like some psychotic monster. But, even though she didn’t want to admit it, the memories were returning and guaranteeing how accurate the therapist truly was.

Rosalyn wasn’t really paying attention to her surroundings, only that the buckles of the straps that held her down were being unfastened.
“We’ll let you rest,” the female doctor announced softly, then exited the room with the other doctor following. The girl curled up into a ball, her hair falling over her face and her body quivering as realisation hit her.

“There are things in this world much darker than you could ever imagine.” the old woman had said, but she was wrong. Because the monsters inside Rosalyn’s head were the darkest kind of all.