Penumbra

Prologue

The sound of the storm was unbearable, rain and wind caused the whole house to shake. That day, the dissonant whispers in my head, who I've called the 'Penumbras', were particularly loud that evening.

"Give in already!" One shrieked.

"You know they hate you!" Another wailed.

I covered my ears with my pillow, trying to block out the deafening cries. Please...stop...stop this insanity already, I thought. I heard the faint conversation of my sister and mother in the background. They were laughing in the kitchen together, enjoying themselves. For some strange reason, my thoughts became tainted with envy. The degrading voices continued to yell at me.

"You think they love you?"

"They left you alone."

"Left you to suffer."

I raised my voice, "Shut up already! They've...they've done nothing wrong," Despite saying this, I couldn't help but refuse to believe it. They've done nothing for me. Fawn, Mom, they've done nothing, but treat me like a troubled child. Why should I try and prevent the inevitable?

I walked downstairs, creeping towards the kitchen cupboard. I grabbed the hilt of a large knife, holding it with a firm grip. I looked at the two, having fun.

My mother with her sickly warm look, her dark brown curls tumbling down her shoulders. She never looked at me like that, never with the same amount of affection as she did with others. Her icy blue eyes only thawed for my sister, no one else.

My sister Fawn with her attractive looks, and youthful grin. She always got the easy way out of things. Her dark hair was tied back, her brown eyes filled with a joy I could never have. She got the quiet peaceful life, she never had to deal with what I saw.

How could they?! My thoughts screamed.

I pointed the tip of the blade at the two betrayers, before running forward. I screamed a battle cry as I swung, filled with anger, satisfaction, and tears.

The final words I heard came from Mom, "H-How could you?"

I collapsed to my knees in tears, whispering over and over to myself, "Why? Why...why did I do that? Why?!"

I looked at the Penumbras in anger, they had begun to manifest before me. Thousands of black masses with piercing red eyes. They snarled, laughed, and shrieked at me like a pack of wild hyenas. It was all as if I became a part of some big performance, "It's all your fault! All of it! What joy do you get from this?! What happiness comes from my suffering?!"

A cloaked figure different from the rest, hovered over to me. A dark fog trailed at his feet as he moved. I saw sharp fangs from beneath the hood, they formed a sickly grin, "You are quite the tragic one, aren't you? A strong fighter if I must say...," He laughed, "Take a good look my dearest...look at this beautiful scene you've created. Your fear makes it all the better."

He placed a claw under my chin, "They were too easy...sleep well child, for your sweet tragedy is just beginning..."

Just after he said this, I felt my eyes roll back. I then blacked out.

                                                                                          

After gaining and regaining consciousness multiple times, and hearing the distant sounds of sirens, I awoke to the steady tempo of a heartrate monitor. I was on a hospital bed, tied down to the bed. I was connected to all sorts of machines. Before I had the time to panic, my head began to pound, as if a mallet was striking it repeatedly.

"Easy there," A man said, "This is the longest you've been awake."

His hair was dark, peppered with grey strands. His mustache was neat, and he had a somewhat cold look to him, despite smiling. To be honest, he looked at me just like my mother did, with disappointment.

"You are Ms. Jane Hawthorne I presume?" He said, "I am Mr. Thoron...and I will be your therapist."

I didn't reply, I knew what happened, I knew what I saw. But, all they saw was a daughter who killed her own parents for no reason.

"I'm terribly sorry for the loss of your family...but, the court allowed us to reduce your sentence. If you take part in the treatment--,"

"I don't need help," I snapped.

He sat down on a nearby chair, "Look Jane...I can't imagine how difficult this may be for you. But, if you do not take part in this rehabilitation...you may be executed. Please cooperate, a mental ward is far better than death, I know this for a fact."

I paused, realizing that even if I were to state the truth, they'd never believe me. I cursed under my breath, before turning to face him, "I suppose...I suppose you're right Mr. Thoron. I'll put it into consideration."

He used that same fake smile, "I'm glad to hear. I'll be visiting in a few weeks...do get better."

He left, leaving only a dead bouquet of flowers to look at.