We Perfer The Term Psychotic

7. Sick

I can feel them.

Their hands.

Their unwanted touches.

But my body doesn't move.

Nasty things are being whispered into my ear and I feel a single tear slide down my face and onto the bed. More follow. I try to shake my head trying to get rid of the voices that are too close, too loud.

But my head stays put, my eyes are the only thing I can move. But what happens if I open them? Will I catch a glimpse of the faces I've tried for years to forget?

"So pretty, just for me." One of the voices says loud and clear, another tear falls as I hear more and more statements. It's going to happened.

"Shh, don't cry. We're not going to do anything." I feel a hand caress my face and my body tries to cringe away from it. But I can't move. The hand dips. Right into my shirt. "Your still so young, but look? Your blooming beautifully." It cooes I whimper as the hand starts to roam lower their hands so warm almost burning as they grow further to reaching their destination.

"No." I plead my hand attempting to push them away but I can't move.

Their going to hurt me and I can't move.

I can't fight them.

"Veronica!" They know my name, the hand stops just before my pants and time seems to freeze.

My body is being picked up, and moved. I can't open my eyes, I want to open them now. But they won't obey me. My legs skim a wall and I groan softly as the person carries me into a unknown destination, the room feels alot colder them the bedroom we were currently in.

I feel more then one pair of hands on me, the person carrying me is giving me to someone else.

Their hands are slimer, feminine. The smell of cigarettes and roses invade me and when I try to open my eyes they open. "Mom." She smiles down at me and I smile back. This is her, the person I have missed so much. My lingering fears fade away as she starts too hum, my body relaxes into hers and my eyes start to close. Remembering all the nights she would sing me to sleep.

The sound of running water fills the cold room adding more noise along with mom's voice, making the memory feel more real and not just some fading thought that only runs through my head when it's happening or something like it is occurring.

Countless nights I spent listening to her voice, when my eyes would finally close I dreamed of the places she would sing about.

They weren't like the latest hit song they were songs that were passed down by generations songs that were important to only our family.

Places in Italy mostly, but there were stories well songs about forest in the dark cold sea. Scotland. Thoes were my favorite.

The song she sings one about the scottish land comes to an end and I freeze. That weird consuming feeling comes again and my heart starts to race.

My mother's arms feel as though they are on fire.

"I never loved you." What? My eyes open and my mother has a vicious smile on her face my stomach churns as her arms pull tighter and she stands. I look around seeing a bathtub filled with water.