Previous Page of 2Next Page

Crazy Girl

spinner.gif

A/N: So, yeah, I know I should probably be updating one of my other stories, but this idea was stuck in my head and I had to write it down. I thought that it would be intresting and fun to write. So, I hope you like it! I know it's not much yet, but please comment on what you think so far. Thanks :)

My name is Cassandra, and yes, I’ll admit it, I’m crazy. That’s the whole reason my parents put me in this asylum, because I’m crazy. I hear voices, thousands and thousands of voices screaming in my head. I can’t control them, I can’t stop them, all I can do is listen to them. Well, that was before I met Lucas.

 =======================================================================

I was sitting at the grand piano in the common room when the new patient arrived. I don't know how to play, but I like the noise the piano made when I struck a note. It seemed to calm me down, it took my mind off of what was really happening to me.

He looked to be my age, 16. He was of average height and build with brown hair. He held himself proudly as he walked around. He was being escorted by Dr. Saroyan, the head psychiatrist, and a few nurses. They set him down at a nearby table and then left.

I glanced over at him. He was looking around the room. It's what every one does when they first arrive; get a sense of their surroundings. There wasn't much to look at here, though. The white tiles had a few scuff marks. The grey walls had a few drawings on them from some of the other patients. The chairs and tables matched the color scheme, white and grey. It was a sad and depressing place to be.

When his eyes landed on me I quickly looked away. I went back to hitting random notes on the piano.

Do you play?

"No. I just like the sound it makes." I answered the voice out loud.

My Name is Lucas.

I looked up at the new patient. "Hi, Lucas. I'm Cassie."

He looked shocked, "What? How did you know my name?"

I smiled, "You told me."

He shook his head back and forth. "No I didn't."

"Don't lie, I heard you." My voice was changing from friendly to stern. I know when I hear the voices, and I know who they come from.

Cassie's crazy. Cassie's crazy. Cassie's crazy.

I snapped my head in the direction of the taunting voice. It was coming from Henry. He always tormented me. Henry had been at this hospital for nineteen years. We celebrated his 36 birthday last week. His unkempt hair and frail body gave him the appearance of being insane, but whenever I talked to him I never saw any indication.

"SHUT-UP!" I lashed out towards Henry.

A nurse walked over towards me. "Cassandra? Is everything alright?" He said it in an almost patronizing tone.

"You need to tell Henry to shut his mouth. I can hear him, and it's rude to interrupt when two people are trying to have a conversation." I said without taking my eyes off of Henry.

"Cassandra, Henry didn't say anything. It's all in your head."

I gave the nurse a hard stare. "Yes. He. Did. I heard him." I took a deep breath to help calm myself a little. "Now, I would greatly appreciate it if you would tell him that I am trying to have a conversation with Lucas, and I would very much like him to STOP TALKING!" I yelled the last part in the direction of Henry.

The nurse walked away, leaving me with Lucas. I turned my attention away from the corner where Henry was sitting back towards Lucas. I got up from my spot at the piano and sat down next to him.

"Why are you here?" I asked quietly.

"Why else would I be here? People think I'm crazy." He answered.

"Why would they think that?"

He leaned forward. His bright blue eyes were wide as they stared into mine. Ever so quietly he said, "because I can see the dead."

I snorted. "I highly doubt that."

He put a hand on my shoulder. "It's true."

I rolled my eyes. "Uh huh, sure." This kid was crazy, but that's the whole reason he's in here. That's the reason everyone is in here. We're crazy.

3, 6, 9, 12, 15, 18. Three little pigs. Three blind mice. Three Musketeers. Everything comes in threes. Three. Three. Three.

I shifted my attention towards Emma, a woman in her early twenties. "NO ONE CARES THAT YOU LIKE THE NUBER 3!" I screamed at her. She was annoying. She always rattled on about the number three. She would keep repeating it over and over, and then she would tell everyone all the multiples of three. She also told us why three was such a fantastic number. Three branches of government, three primary colors, etc. She had Arithmomania. In my opinion she's the most annoying patient here.

Previous Page of 2Next Page

Comments & Reviews (3)

Login or Facebook Sign in with Twitter


library_icon_grey.png Add share_icon_grey.png Share

Who's Reading

Recommended