"Please, Alice. Go quietly. We don't want a scene being caused."
It was her parents annual Christmas party, they held it in their luscious back garden every year with ten days before Christmas. They had finest red wine and ham being served. It was her parents annual Christmas party and Alice Brandon was being shipped off to a Austin state hospital in Texas. A psychiatric hospital. Ten days before Christmas. Yep, you heard right, a mental institution. For crazy people, just like me.
Well, I'm not crazy. But that's what they've deemed me. "Mentally unstable.". They only call me that because they don't know what's wrong with me, or better yet, they don't want to know what's wrong with me. I can't blame them, I wouldn't really want to know what I am if I didn't have to feel me. If you get me. You probably don't. No-one does. I don't blame them either. I don't really get me myself, and I am me.
Well, lets try and sum up what Alice Mary Brandon really is.
It's kind trying to sum yourself up though, isn't it? What are you, who are you, what, who, why, when, where, bla bla bla.
None of it makes any sense. Nothing does, if you really think about it.
But yeah, they "medically" declared me all sorts of things after a ton of tests, examinations, the works. Schizophrenic, depression, GDA (generalised anxiety disorder, but ill get onto that later.) OCD, (obsessive-compulsive disorder.) fuck, they even put me down as suicidal. They think I tried to kill myself. I didn't. I just wanted to make everything stop. But then again, if you saw a girl who heard and saw things who had taken 20 aspirin pills and 20 paracetamol tablets who downed it all with a litre bottle of vodka..I'd say you'd think she was pretty suicidal.
I remember that day like it was last week. To be honest, it was last week. It wasn't an eventful day, just your average depressed teenagers day. Wake up, lie in bed all day and go to sleep. But then I thought "Why not? Why not just have a shit load of pills and lots of alcohol? What's the worst that could happen, I kill myself? I'm already dead." I'm already dead.
So then I did it. I turned on my ipod and plugged it in, if I'm about to die I at least want to do it to music I enjoy. I didn't bother writing a suicide note. I wasn't going to write "I love you all, none of this is your fault." Because, to be frank, I don't love them and it is their fault.1 After about the first 10 tablets it was relevantly easy. One tablet, one swig of vodka. Easy. Simples. I was enjoying really enjoying myself. That's what I'm best at, destroying myself. Then I remember just slowly fading out, like I was going in for a really deep sleep. I closed my eyes and next thing I know I'm awake on a hospital bed with a tube down my throat with about ten doctors surrounding me. I didn't do it. I didn't die. Well, I might have done, but then again, I highly doubt heaven (or hell) is being on a hospital bed with a tube down your throat. If it is then that's incredibly shit.
But yeah, they pumped my stomach and here I am. Alive and...not healthy. Not healthy mentally, that is.
You know what the funny thing is? No-one even knew I was ill. I should go into drama as I'm so amazing at acting. My whole life is a fucking play. Not my family, nor my friends, well, the few friends I have. I did have one friend though, Bella. But then the doctors found out that she had an eating disorder and took her away. Just. Like. That.
People wouldn't consider me normal. I consider me normal, but what do I know? I tried to kill myself apparently. But I've been "seeing things" ever since I was about four years old. That's the earliest I can remember anyway. I don't see things that aren't there, that aren't real. I see things that are going to happen. Sort of telling the future and so on. But they don't believe me, nobody does. But I can tell the future. I've seen it happen. I predicted that my sister would fall out of a tree when she was ten, I saw that the little girl across the road would be run over by a bus and die. I foresaw that I would be raped and brutally attacked.
Forgot to mention that, didn't I? Yeah. Nothing big though. Everyone's raped nowadays. Happened when I was 13. Doctors think that's what sparked my depression, but they're wrong. They're always wrong. You don't need a doctors degree and 11 years in college to know that I've been fucked up from the start.
I think that's about it really, I think you should get why I'm so crazy now after explaining it more in depth to you.
"Alice!" My father barked in my direction, "You will walk down the stairs, avoid all eye contact and conversation and go out the backdoor and you will go into that taxi and go to that hospital." His beady eyes started down at me. I wasn't afraid. He didn't scare me. No-one did.
"What if I don't fancy walking down them stairs, what if I don't want to avoid all eye contact and conversation, what if I don't fucking want to go to that fucking hospital!" My mother ran to the door as soon as I first said 'fucking' to shut it. Of course, wouldn't want mommy and daddys prestigious guests being scared by the crazy child.
"Now you listen here young lady!" He shouted, his deep voice bouncing off the painted walls. "You WILL do as I say, okay?" I shook my head. Fuck doing what he says. Fuck everything and everyone. He scoffed and shook his head and pointed his finger at me. "Do. As. I. Say."
He should have known better than to point his finger at a crazy person.
I grabbed his finger and bent it backwards. I enjoyed hearing the cracks in his finger and his muffled screams. My mother ran up and flung me backwards, cradling my father and his broken finger.
"When did you get so damaged, so ruined! Your sister is normal, be more like her! Be normal!" your sister is normal, be more like her. Be normal, be normal, be normal. I would if I could.
I turned back at them and smiled. "Now ill go." So I walked out, not caring about me or anyone else.