To Be Real?

His Lovely Eyes

Ever since I was little He would visit me, but He stopped about five years ago. Once He did I felt abandoned. It was like He didn't want me anymore. A month after He stopped I told my mother, but after I did I wished I hadn't. She wanted to know more about him and what his name was.

 I had told her that I didn't know, how He got in my room, what He did with me, what He said, and what His name was ( I had saw the look on my mother’s face and knew I could not tell her anything about Him ), yet I said that I thought I was in love with Him. After all He was my life. He was all I knew. I had been alone, never getting close to anyone but Him. Not even my family. Now I feel empty and alone in this padded cell.

You see, after I told my mother about Him she had called the police. When they came and had asked me the same questions my mother had, and I answered them the same as I did when she had asked. Then they told me to describe Him and I regretfully told them. I said that He had black emo style hair and that He had huge bloody cuts all over His body. Also right over his heart was my name, first, middle, and last.

 It looked like it was a tattoo, but He insisted it was a birth mark. His eyes were another story. They were beautiful, yet they held lots of secrets. His eyes were black with lots of blood red specks. Oh yeah, and he had fangs. After I said, that all concern left the police officers face and pity replaced it.

He told me that everything was going to be fine, and that he was going to take me somewhere where I will be safe. That stupid jerk. Now here I am two years later in a mental hospital to protect me... from myself. I only blame myself though. I should have never told her about Him. Deep inside I knew I shouldn't have, but I had no one else to tell.

 I never had a friend. I only had Him, but I guess He didn't feel the same as I do. After all, He had left me and never came back. I dream every night of that last day He had come to me. The day I had confessed my love for Him, but even though He didn't come back after I said it, I have never regretted those words I have spoken. A knock on the padded door had forced me to break my chain of thought.

“Miss Sexton?” The nurse lady asked.

 “What?” I said annoyed.

 “I have very good news to tell you.” She said happily.

“And that is?” I pressed.

 “The doctor thinks you’re well enough to go home shade dear!” She sang.

 “I don't care.” And I don't. I have nothing to love for anymore. My family hates me and I have no friends. The only reason I still carry on is His eyes. I can still picture them when I close my eyes.

“Hurry and pack, your family will be here shortly to pick you up.” She said ignoring me. Wonderful, that's all I need. My family always thought that I had made him up for attention. Of course instead of giving me more attention to make me feel loved like they thought I wanted, they go out of their way to make me feel hated. So naturally it only made them angrier that I would care less about what they thought of me.