Demon Child

Chapter 1: Travis

"Bye bye, Travis," I whispered, smiling. Travis waved happily and disappeared into the wall.

I sighed deeply, leaning back onto my scratched-up elbows. He tried too hard to get into my Vocab (I know that you don't know what this means. Hang in there).

Concentrating hard, I pulled Daniella into the room. It was harder since they put me into a padded cell, but I finally got Danny to walk in.

"Wassup, girlfriend?" she said, her long braids hanging. When I was little all I wanted was to have a double-pierced ear like her. Mommy would never let me get one. She used to say that my first piercing was getting to my head.

I had learned never to believe Mommy, after she tried to tell me that Daniella "wasn't real", when Daniella was trying not to laugh next to me. I think that was the day when she checked me in.

Into SMMH.

Santa Monica's Mental Hospital.

That was a year ago. And to the Doctors' annoyance, I have not stopped having conversations with my Friends. What am I supposed to do, ignore them?

I even tried simply listening to them and nodding my head slightly to avoid detection, but the doctors knew that I was talking my Friends.

"He tried too hard, Danny. He tried too hard to get himself into my vocabulary. He wanted me to like him..." She nodded understandingly, having seen it a million times before.

No one used to like me in my old school.

In fact, a lot of them were scared of me.

At my old school, the boys believed in "cooties". Nowadays, my Friend Warren teaches me, not those old rat-like teachers who were obsessed with math and biology.

"Oh, definitely darling. It's a shame, really. Did you see the way he looks at you?" she said in her accent, while she pulled up her tube top. I liked that one; it was hot pink. I remember picking it out.

"Lindy?" boomed the voice over the intercom. He gave me directions every day.

"Yes, John?" I replied, giving him a random name. It's not like he ever told me his real one, the Doctors liked to distance themselves from the patients... especially me.

"Your lunch is ready. It's coming in through the hatch."

"Thank you!" I yelled.

I never got a 'your welcome.'

I heard the Doctors place my food on their side of the hatch, and then lock it up tight. My side of the hatch automatically unlocked, and I reached in and took the tray.

Of course I knew it was drugged. How couldn't I? I mean, it's been a while. And every time I would talk to my friends, they would give me food.

I liked how they were scared of my Friends.

I liked how I had power over them.

But they weren't really scared of my Friends that much.

The food wasn't severely drugged.

They only went into full panic mode when I started fighting with my friends.

Like full out, catfight.

Then they have proof:

my scratches.

My name is Lindy.

I am eight years old.

As much as you'd like to think, my friends aren't imaginary.

Other people just can't see them.

I live in Santa Monica's mental hospital, in cell number 268.

I love it here.

Hi everyone! It took me forever to edit this, but preeetty please vote! I need to know that readers exist!!!!!! And comment, I'm honestly curious to see what you think of this. No one really ever comments, so I'll understand when you don't. But voting is just pushing a button!

:D thank you!