The Fearful Institute

Unexpected Turn

Author's note-

So I guess I should probably do author notes, because I need to be in contact with you guys in some way. So here's the thing, I've been super busy with school and up coming EOC's\tests/exams and I'm literally sizzling like bacon on a summers day in a desert. I have gotten so lost in my writing, but now I'm starting up again. Here's the other thing, I've kind of lost touch, so this part might seem a little weird. Make sure to comment/like/share if you enjoyed this story!! Love you guys and I never expected over 7,000 views!!!

- Chelsea

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 Everything is dark and cold, it almost feels like a dream. I'm not sure where I am, somewhere dark and out of reach. A building, where the walls are peeling and the lights are barely holding it together. It's a place filled with torment and pain, personally holding my faith in its small crevices. I can only hear small sounds, quiet sounds. Such as Water dripping from a shower head, splashing into a puddle from under. I can hear my soul growl, it wants something, anything to hold onto.

Something is preventing me from moving, from leaving this place I'm in. This dark, dark place. I try to hold my hands up to look at them, to even pinch myself. They refuse to move, they're strapped down. My legs won't move, they're strapped together, but I'm moving. I'm not moving myself. Maybe an angel has swooped from the heavens to save me from not only the people around in me in the institute, the patients...the doctors, but also myself. Actually, maybe the devil itself has decided to pay me a visit, because he knows that the only true threat to me...is myself.

I blink, and all I see is complete darkness. I'm in the middle of a spotlight, a position where I am completely vulnerable. A spot where I don't want to be. A spot where I refuse to be, in the position that I am currently in: broken with slowly dying faith. The sound of dripping water is long gone, yet it's not silent. Voices repeat over and over, the same words that I have never wanted to hear in my life.

"He's dying!"

"What did he do?"

 Am I dying, did someone attack me? Did I hurt myself? Something isn't right, this place isn't right. These voices aren't right, they're incorrect, they aren't real. The voices don't sound...natural, they sound cloudy, like demons. Impersonators are crawling around in my head, monsters in disguise, and at any moment they could infect me...inject me with something I like to call "death".

They won't keep quiet, they won't stay calm, they refuse to let me feel safe, to feel peace with myself...with my mind.

Please stop talking...stop whispering...stop trying to make me lose my mind. Get out...Get out...GET OUT!

My eyes open and a flash of light stabs into my eyes, blinding me for a few seconds. My hands are covering my face; I'm sweaty, I'm cold, I'm shaking. I cough and hold my stomach. I haven't eaten. When was the last time I ate? Trying to stand up, I try to keep ahold of the wall with chipping paint that's a dull tan color. The hanging lamp moves back and forth, side to side. Everything is moving, shaking, it's like a physical riddle. I feel as if I'm in a fun house, with the escalating walls and spinning floors, obstacle courses filled with trickery.

I find myself latching onto rusty bars, black bars with orange spots. I look up and my eyes refuse to deceive me anymore, they want to see the truth as much as I do. I'm in a cell, with other people surrounding me. There are people walking around below me; sick patients and a couple security guards, with a doctor checking pulses.