This chapter is to take you deeper into Spencer's past. I wanna say it's another 'filler' but I think it's important to know more about Spencer and another key to unlock yet another door of her past. This will get deeper into her mind and deeper into what happened. I hope you enjoy and please leave me comments and feedback. 3

Italics are 'flashbacks'.

THANKS to my great beta Alexis! She is fantastic!

Chapter Five: Everyday Is Exactly the Same/Take a Look at Me Now.

"I believe I can see the future
Cause I repeat the same routine…"

She couldn't breathe, couldn't take that much needed breath that would potentially enable her to take another breath and then another, it is really a process. A process she couldn't go through right now. She felt encaged by her own mind and not able to free herself. She could remember many more times such as this, many other times where her mind clutched onto her, locking her away, and putting a grainy, blurry movie on display in her retinas. Instead of the last time that this happened, the movie was clearer and prominent. Instead of the last time, she was reliving the experience.

She wanted her world back. She wanted lucid states of imagination and princess tendencies. She yearned for the safe hands of her mind and the rooms she closed herself in. Yet, it was her mind that was encaging her and forcing her violently to watch this movie; to relive these experiences. She was forced into a state of panic without any air. She couldn't even hear herself anymore.

The movie was starting.

"I believe I can see the future
Cause I repeat the same routine…"

Her mind instantly goes back a year ago. It seems like the safest time for Spencer Carlin to be alive and living in her mind. She didn't realize there was a past or a future out of these white walls, but then again, she really didn't need too. She was safely behind closed, protective doors that were guarded by white coats and new feverish memories. It had become her kingdom and everything seemed to revolve around her. She would wake up, she got breakfast. She would want a Chai tea, and an orderly brought it to her. She wanted to paint, she was able to paint. What Spencer Carlin needed in her kingdom, she got. That was what being the princess of the white roomed building meant.

She was sitting there enjoying the sun on her face. Her blinds were open and she was sitting in front of the window, something she had come to enjoy. She looked up at the clouds wishing she could be lucky enough to have wings. She talked to her doctors about getting wings, but to her disappointment they couldn't get that for their princess. She told them she needed to fly away. Of course they had asked her why and she had always turned to the window and shrugged her shoulders. Her reply was always mumbled and short, "She needs me to save her." There was no answer for who 'she' was and the doctors really didn't want to ask. Their prodding could produce an even further induced psychosis.

The blonde hair beauty took comfort in her chair in front of the window. The window represented freedom to others, a way out, which she didn't want. Instead, it represented a way inside, which she welcomed with open arms. Cause if whomever her mind told her 'she' is, then 'she' could just come in. They can live the lives of princesses with Chai teas and rainbow colored pills. They could live inside these white walls and dance around or paint pictures, because Spencer liked the routine she had and she knew that any princess would want to see the future. They could be like gypsies, possibly gypsy princesses. Best of all, then they could both be safe.


Whoever she is.

"I think I used to have a purpose
But then again
That might have been a dream
I think I used to have a voice
Now I never make a sound
I just do what I've been told
I really don't want them to come around…"

Spencer Carlin painted onto a white canvas what she saw in her head. She painted whatever her mind told her to paint, whatever the doctors told her that her mind should think to paint. She has an inkling of original thought swooping into her mind. She tends to have them now and then, something deeper inside her trying to show itself. It never lasts long, these thoughts, but it doesn't matter to her. She welcomes the spontaneous originality of her mind. It makes her days seem less routine, less everyday. As she paints scenes of her imagination out onto canvas, she adds a new color, a color not provided in her regular six colors out on the table. Instead she mixes one color and another to make a bright pink to make the dress for the lovely brunette girl in the photo. She paints her because she knows she'll forget her. Like all the other paintings she did, the ones that her parents took to the gallery, she forgot what was on the canvases. It's alright though because she has this one of the girl.

She doesn't know her.

But she's mighty pretty.

Spencer thinks there might have been a time, a time when she had a memory, that she had a purpose in this world. It would be real purpose in the real world. There might have been a time when she didn't parade around her mind with no purpose at all, just to parade around cause she wanted to. She barely ever spoke of nothing. When Luciana asked her what her goals were, she didn't have any. She just sat there. She was a doll for the doctors to prod around her mind but only to come up with imaginations and nothingness. So, she had no voice to speak up because there was nothing to speak up for. She doesn't really care. She sometimes thinks that there really wasn't a time she had any type of purpose, or voice, or anything. Maybe it was just a jumbled dream her mind is trying to create. Though, she still values those moments of originality.

But then again.

It's just like holding out a piece of candy to a child, taunting the child with the delicious sweets but never giving it over. The simple thought of being somebody, something, speaking out, and not just a doll is very appealing. Spencer sometimes mourns originality. It's not all it's cracked up to be. Sometimes she wishes she didn't have such taunting in her life. It would be better for these little 'episodes' to never have happened. Things are simple when they are repetitive. Things are simple when they are all the same. "What is love? Who needs it?" Spencer thinks over and over to herself as she paints. "What is pain? Why feel it?"

When everything is the same there are no surprises.

"I can feel their eyes are watching
In case I lose myself again
Sometimes I think I'm happy here
Sometimes, yet I still pretend
I can't remember how this got started
But I can tell you exactly how it will end…"

She knew she couldn't breathe but her mind isn't letting the lack of oxygen slow down this tumbling ride down the rabbit hole. Spencer needed to see this; her mind was encaging her to show her this. She was farther into her memory, farther into moments of 'family time' and 'therapy sessions'. She was farther into lucid states and robotic moves. She was sitting in a comfortable chair in the therapist's office. There were four people surrounding her. She was safe inside her mind, but when the lady, Luciana, began to speak to her, she felt as if her voice was trying to yank her out of the safety of kingdoms and fairy princesses. Because Spencer Carlin was a fairy princess then, she might think you should have known that detail. Luciana asked Spencer to describe her life in six words. Almost like a memoir.

Not really there, Spencer answered in rainbow pilled hazed:

"Trust me, it won't be spontaneous."

"I want you and only you."

"Don't even know where to start."

"Was so in love with you."

She was on repeat, like the button in her head was pushed down and she was saying six worded sentences that her brain just magically came up with. Her parents watched their daughter with pain filled teary eyes. They watched the faraway look in her eyes, wondering where she was and why they couldn't have the life filled eyes she used to have back.

Arthur Carlin held his sobbing wife as his little girl recited these words, these small but meaningful sentences in a delirious condition. He held onto the heartbroken woman as if she needed him to bring her out of the clouds. She clutched onto him, mourning the loss of her baby girl, because it felt like she had lost her. Paula Carlin would have given anything to have her found; she would have given her hand in marriage to Ashley if it meant to have her girl back. But even that wouldn't help. Instead she holds onto her husband and her prayers hoping to the Lord almighty to have her baby girl back. It was Glen Carlin who stood with confidence and took a seat at his baby sister's feet. He looked up to her like he was a bright eyed blue eyed boy he once had been in his past. He watched her smile down at him, her eyes already glazed over. He laid his head on her knees and closed his eyes, not noticing his salty tears running down his face. She continued to speak and began to stroke his blond head. She had officially invited him into her kingdom.

She repeated herself.

Arthur comforted his wife.

Paula mourned her daughter.

Glen cried among green fields and white castles.

"I'm writing on a little piece of paper
I'm hoping someday you might find
Well I'll hide it behind something
They won't look behind …"

She was crying again. She tends to do that nowadays. It happens after someone you love leaves. It happens after someone you love dies. She had the bad luck cause for her; it was both of those reasons. She was crying because it was just another day without her brother, Clay, and it was another day without her lover, Ashley. She was trying this 'independent' thing and 'standing up for what you deserve' but she never realized that it would become this hard. She knew that she needed to get her feelings out about things. She had spoken to her father hours earlier about how she felt different then she was. He told her it was alright, normal for her to feel different. She asked him if getting deep into her mind was bad and he told her it was normal. It was her way of coping with everything. She smiled and nodded her head but felt uneasy about everything.

It wasn't normal to want to disappear into one's mind.

Tonight Spencer was sitting and writing down what she felt. She didn't have anyone to tell these little things drifting around her mind and eating at her heart. She didn't want to bother her father with them. She didn't feel comfortable to talking to her mother about them. She couldn't call up Ashley; she knew that she was probably at Ego right now. Plus, she couldn't talk to her about how she misses her. She couldn't talk to her about how her heart feels empty without her. She couldn't talk to her about how she hasn't been right since Clay's death. She couldn't tell her about all these little parasites infecting her body and mind to the point of exhaustion.

Spencer reached over and hit the button on her iPod to change her song. The pulsing beat of aggressive and dirty music reached her ears. She felt the edge of her mind being satisfied but she couldn't get everything to feel alright. It just wasn't enough anymore.

It wasn't enough.

She wrote that down onto paper. She wrote with such emphasis and meaning into her words as if she would give this paper, this letter, to the gorgeous girl she used to call her own. She still called her own. Her poetic words flew onto the recycled pages out of a filled diary. She was always told this was the best way to get things out. To write down every single thing she felt, to write a letter to someone, without any intention to give it to them. She often found that notion stupid. "I mean, how does that help anyone?" she thought to herself. She could be right in some ways. How can a person fix all the things you wrote to them if you didn't give them the letter? How would they know? Ashley knew that she hurt Spencer. In some ways, Ashley hurt herself just as much. But Ashley didn't know the extent to which she had hurt Spencer.

Spencer was finishing up her tragic love filled words when she got a text. Her blackberry vibrating silently against her desk making her attention go from the blackening paper to the phone. She put her pen between her lips and retrieved the phone. She read the text message on the screen and sighed. It was from Aiden telling her to meet him at the beach, by the pier. He said it was urgent and needed to talk to her. She felt herself reply back to him automatically saying she would be there in thirty. She could have sworn he was supposed to be Ashley's 'date' tonight, like always. It didn't matter; she was still there for the boy. Sadly.

She took the pen from her lips and wrote the last couple lines in the letter. She quoted a song, the first one that popped in her head that reminded her of the contents of the letter. "So take a look at me now/ There's just an empty space/ There's nothing left here to remind me/ just the memory of your face/ Take a look at me now/ there's just an empty space/ you coming back to me is against the odds/and that's what I've got to face/ I wish I could just make you turn around/ Turn around and see me cry/ There's so much I need to say to you / So many reasons why/ You're the only one who really knew me at all." She signed the letter with a heart and a curvy 'S'. Spencer looked around for a place to put it, a place to hide it that she probably would forget it was there. She looked around for a second before thinking of hiding it behind a photo in the picture frame.

She sighed and took off for the beach, crying the whole way in the car.

"I'm still inside here
A little bit comes bleeding through
I wish this could have been any other way
But I just don't know, I don't know what else I can do…"

She coughed up blood again. She couldn't feel anything, but she knew the warm liquid was pooling down her chin. She felt her eyes become glazed over, like a white fog covering her sight. Spencer looked down at herself from the space above with memorized eyes. She wasn't there anymore, in that body. She would go back, of course, hide somewhere deep, but for now she didn't want to be in –that-- body. She shivered with the dirtiness it held and the bruises that were forming and the blood trickling from places. She just didn't want to go there.

Plus, she didn't like how –he-- was looking at it.


She was now an 'it'.

That was how –he- treated her.

An it.

Aiden looked down, almost in horror, at what he just did to her. He didn't want to hurt her, he swears. He just wanted to talk to her about how all Ashley does was use and use people, he promises. He just wanted to tell her how he finally stood up for himself, he protests. But then he saw her. Then his mind convinced him that –she- was the reason Ashley was a selfish bitch. –She- was the reason he wasn't good enough for Ashley. She was the reason for many things and if she felt the pain that he felt then it would be better. Then she could possibly commiserate with him. What he didn't know was that she already felt his pain to an unbelievable level. She already knew hurt and his actions were just pathetic.

He curled up beside her body, his knees to his chest and tears streaming down his eyes at the intensity of it. It didn't mean to hurt her, but he did. Maybe he did mean to hurt her and he was just feeling the overwhelming guilt from it. Or maybe it wasn't the guilt but the fact the he was going to be in trouble. Spencer watched him without pity and thought it was that he was scared of being in trouble. She really didn't care. She just took pity on the violated and almost dead body beneath her.

She could feel the heart slow.




She could see her lips moving, repeating over and over the words that had been playing on automatic. Spencer didn't want to think of the attack. She didn't want to think of Aiden's knife or foot or other appendages that had hurt her. She didn't want to think about how he told her why he was hurting her or that if she didn't stop screaming he would hurt Ashley. Now, Spencer could see that the last one was just a lie, but it caused her volume to lower. Yet, her lips were still moving. They were still using up the last breathes from her lungs to whisper the words stuck on repeat.

Spencer took a seat next to herself, pushing on her chest every now and then to give herself some sort of energy. She watched herself, her body, as it gazed over lifelessly at Aiden. The poor, pathetic loser curled up softy crying to himself. He didn't even have the decency to pull up his pants. Spencer rolled her eyes at him. If he was going to hurt her, kill her, he should have enough nerve to pull his pants the fuck up and run.

Why didn't he run?

She didn't really care. She was starting to feel even more distant from herself. She was starting to feel apathetic about everything. She looked down at the moving lips, pathetically whispering broken words over and over. She didn't care about her safety. It was ripped away from her. She didn't care about her heart. It had already fallen and shattered because of her slippery hands. She didn't care about her body. It was already used. Life had no meaning before. She looked down at her body once more, seeing that the time was more and farther apart. She was almost dead. She could easily walk away from her body. Start her trek to something bigger than what she already was, something much better than what she already had. Maybe even have an Ashley waiting for her. Yeah, Ashley would be her heaven.

Then she saw someone walking towards them. She saw several figures behind that person. The person, a young girl no older than she, was pointing and screaming at her body. The several figures ran past the young girl, examining the scene with intent and knowing eyes. They had seen many scenes like this one before. It was their job to see these kinds of things. Spencer watched them try and try to revive her body as two others went to arrest the pitiful boy. She didn't know if she was disappointed or not when they got a steady heartbeat from the body, but she knew she would have to go back to it.

She sighed and quickly went back to her body, settling into the cool skin. She didn't know any other way to deal with this. She couldn't possibly leave herself there. She couldn't abandon herself after everyone else did. She did sorta kinda maybe love herself. So, what else was there to do? It didn't matter. She closed her eyes behind the open glazed over ones. The last conscious thing she heard before slipping away to unconsciousness was her whispers.

"No, no Ash, no, please don't, no hurt Ash. Please don't hurt Ash."

"So take a look at me now
There's just an empty space …"

She couldn't breathe. She just remembered that she couldn't breathe and she began to gasp for air even more. She began to use up her energy trying to fight for the right to breathe. She opened her eyes and saw her knees, her hands turning white on her kneecaps. She wished she could sigh in contentment at the thought of being able to see, that she could feel her body and that she wasn't locked away in her mind.

The movie was over.

The movie was over and something was different. It was something that Spencer couldn't pinpoint at that moment, but it was different. Her mind was different in a way and it almost scared her to death. She felt the outside world getting in closer; she felt more vulnerable to it. The safety had been shifted a little and the memory of the movie had left residue on her brain. She remembered the tiny bits that it showed her and it wasn't a good thing. It felt horrible to remember it, those things. Everything was jumbled, her brain was scrambled, and she couldn't put two and two together.

She was just trying to breathe.

She grasped for air again, one more time, and then felt the smooth, small hand resting on her chest. Then she heard the small, soothing voice in her ear. And then she felt another hand combing through her locks. She was beginning to feel the easiness of breaths. She took it slow; in and out. The air was filling her lungs and then exhaling from it. Her heart was taking steady and strong beats. She felt the calming hands and gentle voice calming her down, telling her that it was alright.

"Everything is alright," Ashley whispered over and over to the girl, bringing her closer to her. She sat on the step below the girl and had her halfway in her lap already. It took her so much self restraint to not pull her all away and kiss all the pain away. She had seen the blank, terrified look in the girl's eyes only seconds ago. It was lasting for five minutes, five whole minutes of deep fear that the girl wasn't alright. Ashley thought of things she could do to take her out of it. Who would she have called if she couldn't get her out of it? The Carlins? Glen and Chelsea? Who? What if Pan and Ofelia woke up? They would have been terrified.

Ashley didn't care right now though because she could see that Spencer was back with her. Spencer's eyes were glossy and her breaths slow and steady. She was alright and Ashley smiled softly at her and combed back her hair. She whispered softly, "You're alright, I've got you."

Spencer met Ashley's eyes. There was something deep inside her telling her that something wasn't right. She tilted her head and scrunched up her eyes before jumping up, out of Ashley's protective arms. She shook her head, tears leaking out of her blue eyes. She was overwhelmed. She was tired. She was scared. The images in her head were scattered and she didn't understand.

"No," Spencer whispered harshly to the confused brunette. "I can take care of myself." And then she was gone. She took off up the steps to her studio and into the building. Ashley flinched when she heard Spencer slam her window. Spencer made her way into the studio and to the small couch. There was a nagging at the back of her head. Something that she felt she needed to say or had already said. That piece of déjà vu that she always felt.

Then it slipped out of her confused lips, "With some left over to take care of you."