Taken

Talking to people

It's been just over a week since my outburst in class. After that I have been quieter than usual, stating to myself, brooding over what I saw, or, what I think I saw. I haven't been able to come to grips with the fact that everyone has seemed to forget. Either that, or I haven't come to grips with the suspicion that I had finally lost it. Tipped over the edge.

Like I hadn't already.

My mum freaked out when she heard what I'd done, said, actually screamed at my seemingly kind ex. She thought that I was delusional, in need of medication, as she put it, in need of help. I hated his guts. That was all, I'm not going to lie. I'm not going to sugar coat it. Maybe he was nice to me in the past, maybe he was a good boyfriend. But mainly he obsessed over the idea of being perfect, and the only reason he threatened me, was because I'm a risk to his perfection. His weakness. His ugly scar. The only thing taking him down. I don't care though, if I go down, he's coming with me. Kicking and screaming.

Maybe, there's more to me and him than everyone thinks. Maybe. But that time, I wasn't going to put up with his sh*t. As simple as that. Fed up.

......

On the Monday three weeks after what had happened in the corridor, I finally accepted that what happened in the corridor never happened. I took the meds they gave me. Didn't argue. Didn't question. Just did it.

You're going mad Brooke. Mad as a freaking hatter.

Like I don't know that. Like I don't know that I'm slowly drowning, just like before. I thought I'd moved on, but I'm just back were I started. I thought that my life could only get better, but how wrong I was. I was so fragile, the tiniest thing could topple me over the edge. And that's what happened. Except 'The Thing' was absolutely freaking huge.

If it even happened. Which it didn't. It obviously didn't. And just like that. Over and over and over and over again. Round and round in circles.

You are not mad. You are not mad. You are not mad. You are not mad. You are not mad. You are not mad. You are not mad. You are not mad. You are not mad. You are not mad. You are not mad.

Oh but you are Brooke Hopper. Mad. Mad. Mad. Mad. Mad. Mad as a hatter. Mad as a freaking hatter.

Help me. I want out. Of my life. Out of everything. I can feel myself crumble. And there's nothing I can do. Nothing.

......

"Sh*t sorry!" What? What just happened? It was all slightly fuzzy and blurry and I could only just make out the shape of my shoes. And books. Are those my books? I must have faded out, not paying attention. Again. Again. Again. It's probably the medication. It makes me think funny.

It's just you. Not the medication. Crazy little Brooke.

It was all eating me up again. What had happened in class, in the corridor. All the blood, the screams, the death. The smashed in skulls. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!

"Shut up!" I sort of screamed. Maybe screamed, maybe whispered. But it came apparent that I had not been quiet at all. That's when I remembered the person in front of me, the one who had knocked my books onto the floor, and now held them out to me with a slightly confused look on his face.

And that's when I looked at his face. And wow. He had greenish- grey eyes, a strong jaw, and slightly tousled dark hair. The only trouble was, I didn't know his face. Maybe he was new? But I don't recall anyone new.

That's because your bat-crap crazy.

I wish this stupid voice in my head would shut the hell up. I'm not quite sure whether it's the medication or just me. I'm sick of not knowing stuff, but alternately, I'm sick of having to know stuff as well. The guy cleared his throat.

"So, um, here are your books." He sort of shoved them into my arms in a hurry to get away. "Have a..." He seemed to pause, maybe thinking what he should say to a girl that probably looked like she was on drugs. "Good...? Good day."

I started to let him walk away, but for once, the voice said something half useful.

You idiot! He doesn't know what you're like. He doesn't know who you are! Make a friend before he gets told about you!

So I sort of started forwards, and then tripped slightly and hovered back before stuttering out some sort of mangled statement.

"I... I didn't mean you. Um, you know, when I said shut up. I was, just talking out loud, to something... On... On my phone! Yes, it was just something a friend said! You know, just like when you talk out loud when you think you're saying something in your head?"

God help me.

"Well yeah. It was on my phone." Although it was scarily apparent that I didn't have a phone in my hand or, as a matter of fact, anywhere near me. But nonetheless, he sort of smiled at me, an easy smile. An 'ok I'll take your word for it' smile.

"I do it all the time." It was clear that he didn't, but it made me feel better anyway. I noticed that the pounding in my head had gone, and my sight has sharpened.

See, all you need to do is talk to people!

Maybe that stupid ass voice was right. For once.

As I mentioned before, I'm updating every 200 reads now, so keep reading please please please??! The new guy is going to be a main character as well, so I wanted to know if you guys want me to draw a picture? (Baring in mind than I am so much better at girls that boys.). Thank You for reading!- devoncat1 😊