Behind the Lies.

Chp. One

[Please vote, each time you don't a little piece of me implodes quietly.]

Prologue

       I watched the children in the courtyard playing football. They all looked happy but wore clothes that lacked pockets, for we could not be trusted with anything that could be used as a weapon. These children were twelve, the older ones did bother with childish things anymore. I was wearing a dark grey that washed my pale skin out and made me look ill although I was fine. Well almost.

       "Tell me everything." A clinical gaze above half-moon glasses and an A4 clipboard that would fill with lies about my health.

       Everything? I scribbled the word onto a tiny corner of the sheet I'd been given. Purple, glitter, gel pen letters flowed on the parchment replacing my melodic voice.

       "Everything that you feel at ease disclosing," If rolling my eyes wouldn't have been seen as a sign of aggression Mr Clinical would've watched mine roll back into my head - so far that only the whites of my eyes greeted him - but as it was I was not that stupid. I picked up a glittering red from the pack and began to tell my tale. For what I'd promised myself would be the last, no matter what anyone said.

       'I can imagine the woods before my arrival.

       The owl's setting out for their evening hunt, small silver fish ambling through the quiet brook undeterred from their evening paddle by birds perched upon the edge waiting to snap them up. Skunks, Foxes, Badgers, all of them oblivious to the horror taking place only metres away. Twinkling fireflies lighting the dark of the woods, a beautiful and serene scene. All that serenity was broken with the pounding of my bare feet through the muddy puddle waters.

       The foxes skittered from my path, the fireflies chose to no longer light my way. All of the woodland creatures had deserted me bar one. The owl's stayed. It was terrifying how they did not so much as flutter a feather or blink an eye at a girl running through the woods covered in blood. Or the loud howling that followed behind.

       I sprinted through these woods panting, almost alone. Grandma's wicker basket clutched in my sweaty fist, a present she would never appreciate. I was essentially running for my life. The reality of this hit me hard. How impossible this all seemed, how completely crazy. A snarl tore the air from behind me reminding me how all to real this was, telling me that my legs would not hold out forever. The trees stretched tall and the forest that I had always considered to be home was now transformed into shadows and alcoves for the beast, and I realised that this place was never meant for us.

       Aiming for what I hoped would be the tree line I flat out sprinted in a straight line. I did not know where it was since I'd strayed from the path as soon as I'd left the warm cottage hoping to shake off my pursuer. My lungs were straining and my airways closing for the woods were not small, and although I'm unsure it felt like the mild beginings of a panic attack. My muscles rhythmically cramped from every step, I already knew that my legs would not hold out.

       And I was right, I did not reach the tree line in time. A weight like none I'd ever felt before - or I assume would feel again - forced me to the ground, I swallowed the mud that landed in my mouth hoping to gulp down air into my lungs before my head fell into the puddle. Bark and grit forced it's way into my mouth then murky water where my head lay in this shallow dip. I strained to lift it above the water line and ended up practically snorting the puddle dry. My lungs began a slow persistent rumbling burn.

       I felt the hot breath of the beast ruffle loose strands of hair but playing possum I felt the beast's grip upon me loosen, and I took my chance at jabbing an elbow backward toward what I hoped would be it's gut. A low snarl began somewhere deep in it's throat and I jabbed again, harder. The beast's weight completely lifted for a second with a wail which allowed me to my knees. But they were knocked out from under me swiftly. The snarling increased in volume beside my right ear so loud that I heard an intense and painful crackling that had me crying out. There was a mounting pressure in my ear until a pop finally sounded from somewhere deep.

      Then from the right, nothing more. Partially deaf and lacking not only energy but blood I was slowly dying, I realised what a frail creature I was compared to the beast with paws that matched the size of my head. Nails that sliced deep gashes along my bare arms with ease. I could imagine how bad I would be mauled and every horrifying image ended up with me having a closed casket funeral with hardly any limbs left, and nothing but nightmares for those who found me and those who identified me.

       But unfortunately my death was not to be, another growl sounded from somewhere behind me and behind the creature that was tearing me to strips with a slow glee. I was too far gone into the 'between' - a place of everything and nothing - to really notice much more than the eyes this creature had. A sharp green like no other, that haunt me even today. He saved me from the Master but scared me more than the master ever could.'

       I placed the pen down giving away all that I would.

       "Do you realize how this sounds, animals with hands the size of your head?" Mr Clinical's hand was scribbling so quickly that his glasses trembled and his eyes blurred back and forth across the page.

        I simply sounded crazy, but it was the truth. I leant back into the lemon yellow chair and studied the bookshelf beside me silently contemplating my thoughts.

        I sounded crazy enough to be kept here but not as crazy to be put back in the 'blue' zones, and not sane enough to be released. I knew that if I was released I would go home. Back to the woods. I also knew that if I finished my tale I would go back to the 'Blue' accommodation. I knew all about the 'Blue' accommodation.

        I'd been in that nightmare for my first three weeks give or take a day. They were rooms of complete white that had a bed which was so small it could not even be considered a single. The white blinded your eyes and numbed your mind, and the only break from it was the clothes you wore and the food you ate. The lack of conversation twisted your thoughts and the solitary meals were laced with sleeping pills. No eating equaled another five days alone, eating it resulted in drug induced nap times that threw your mind off balance and made you lose track of time which drove you crazy quicker.

       Either way once you were in the 'Blue' accommodation it was extremely hard to get out, it was mostly how the patient reacted to the therapy sessions that determined whether they got back to the 'Yellow' accommodation. These zones had en suite bathrooms and a single bed in the room with less therapy and more lessons which were mainly art based so that everyone expressed their feelings in a healthy manner. But I doubted any of us cared for healthy anymore, we just wanted free.

       "Is that it?" Mr Clinical was finally watching me, looking at me. But like all the therapists he did not see me.

       'Yes' Three blue letters that conveyed my sadness. I could not bare to talk

       Yeah that was it all right. That's all I'd let you know, all anyone would know. I kept most of my inner thinkings inside my mind, it was the only safe way to survive in this place.

 [What are we thinking, do you like it or think there need to be glaring improvements. If so what?]