Bittersweet Tragedy

Tag, You're It

(̅_̅_̅(̲̲̲̲̲̅̅̅̅̅̅(̅_̅_̲̲̲̅̅̅Chapter 2_̅_̅_̅() ڪے

   "You are obliged to write on this notebook with thoughts that are corrupting your mind, seeing as you favor literature in the form of writing during your... days." 

   Rick couldn't find the right words as to how her situation should be described. He still saw her innocent and was determined to extract the human inside herself under his care.

   "It is best that you have words as your companion during these times... this notebook is to be treated like a friend whom you'd trust. No one is able to steal it, read it, or even take a glimpse of it." Rick kept his promise to the girl, his intention was keeping her lucid through effective therapy.

   Kyla held her gaze at the jet black form of sanity; she was listening intently and couldn't find any ill objective from the man. 

   Trust was like handing a dagger knowing that you'll eventually get stabbed and Kyla was willing to bleed.

   On the other side, her disarrayed contemplation led her hands to itch, they were desiring to possess a ball point pen to cut her ties lose to this world and be free. Her roaming ideas were put to a stop as the man before her continued his speech.

   "However, your nurse will be around to watch how you progressed well with your own. When I say around, I meant always Miss Anadella. You are to write with a prison pen, still, with supervision so I suggest to not do anything foolishly."

   Her whole body flinched not because of the immediately failed plan, but because of the way he said those words. It's as if he knew what she was thinking, like he had the upper hand. A way for him to say that he was always one step ahead.

   "I am to leave, be careful Miss Andella and Merry Christmas."

   The slam of the door indicated her isolation.

   Each day, Kyla convinced herself that she's not crazy, that this institution is the one making her.

   How could she have a merry Christmas when you can't celebrate the birth of someone who never existed?

|-... .-. . .- - .... .|

   Once she was back to solitary confinement, the present given to her felt heavy on her hands, it was announcing its presence. As the two armed guards who escorted her took their leave, Kyla took a glimpse of her surroundings.

   The room was nothing out of the normal except for the previous happening that haunts her still. Kyla decided to bury the scenario by focusing her attention, she examined the foreign object. It was plain yet the hundred leaves it holds made her wonder how long her stay will be.

   Kyla forgot how to write, she didn't know where to start. She had the urge to write every single whispering thought but she couldn't fish one out the ocean she constructed.

   Kyla sat back on her stiff mattress, stood up, sat down, stood up, sat down.

   The pacing continued for longer than usual until she realized what the place was doing to her— her temple was pounding, she was being bombarded by her own. 

   With frustration building up, she threw the notebook by the end of her bed not wanting to touch it. Battling once more with her consciousness, an echoing knock came from the cold metal.

   "Miss Anadella, sorry to interrupt but a snow storm is to come, we were ordered to lend you wool for the evening." It was Kyla's nurse who snapped her back.

   Kyla didn't know her nurse very well, not even his name. Kyla was confused as to why— of all the possible nurses would the hospital give— she was stuck with one who is opposite her gender.

   As he placed the folded fabric near her end, he left a pen together with it. Kyla was still swimming in the depths of herself; he cleared his throat to alarm her.

   "I won't give you any shots tonight as requested by Mr. Mortreal, however I left a promising object beside his present. Have a good rest, miss." With that, the idiosyncratic nurse left her, Kyla was finally alone.

  The moon indicated that it was half past 1am, Kyla forgot what sleep was. The place was eating her alive. She didn't understand why she was put there, she was telling the truth but everyone knew her as a liar.

   The lip sewed shut was on replay, she couldn't imagine anyone being able to do such. Then again, the almost deranged part of herself laughed at satisfaction for seeing a vile vision finally, after being kept at PG 13.

   She snapped back, if she would keep this up, Kyla will end up being someone she wants to prove them wrong.

   So at 1:48 am on a winter day with the storm of white howling like there's no tomorrow left, she took her chances of today and grabbed the soft rubbery material.

   So this is what a prison pen feels like, she spoke silently. The unique pen bent on such ways to the point that it gave no lethal damage. Kyla opened her journal, her own. Finally something that belongs to her.

   As she observed the thick plain pages, she noticed something odd about the material she is holding, but she couldn't place what.