Born Mad

Chapter One: An Insane Escape

I suppose being around the insane for my entire life might have affected me for these past twelve years. I mean, who would risk becoming a fugitive against the entire British Parliament just to prove that their parents were conceited idiots? I should be placed in an asylum for this lunacy! Oh, the irony is immense, isn't it?

I laughed out loud to myself at this thought, falling to my back on my wired cot and working free of the bonds of my straight jacket within seconds. It was just too simple to be true! Oh, but it was true. So very, wonderfully true!

I let out the highest fake scream I could muster so I could be sure someone would come to see what was going on. After all, I was in Parkhurst. No ordinary scream would alert anyone of something being wrong. The screams of insanity were everywhere.

Upon hearing someone coming, I lay myself down on the floor, feigning unconsciousness and placing my hands as they would be if I were still bound.

Within seconds a guard was bending over, placing two fingers on my neck to feel for my pulse. However, his concern didn't last long as I opened my eyes, hissing, "Surprise," with a grin and the bashing of my skull into his. (Yeah, I know. Twelve years old and bashing heads in already.)

He reared back away from me upon the shock, but I didn't hesitate. My knee was in his stomach, and his neck was broken before he could even think of screaming.

I kicked his body aside, shrugging off my straight jacket and picking up the guard's pager as it buzzed, my hearing a static-filled voice saying, "Officer Brown, what is wrong with Aurora?"

I clicked the speaker button, holding it to my lips. "Why, I'm sorry, but Officer Brown can't come to the phone right now. May I take a message?"

I laughed triumphantly at the headmaster's cry of alarm while I put the pager in my back pocket with a grin, taking the 38 caliber revolver and taser with me as well. "Sorry, Brown, but you won't be needing these anymore."

I exited my Class A Security cell without another thought. I paid no mind to the ear-splitting screeches of insanity echoing throughout the stone prison as I made my way down the hall and up the stairwell, shooting anyone and everyone who stood in my way.

The escape was too easy, and as I look back on that moment, I realize that I was inwardly hoping for someone to try and stop me, for someone to lock me back up and let me try again at my escape. But no one did. No one could. No one stood a chance against me, and they knew it too. Soon, all the world would know it.

I stood on the roof of Parkhurst, looking over the edge and at the ocean waters crashing against the rocky cliff below. Whoever designed that place had the right idea in mind. The place was a geographical oddity in the middle of the ocean, at least a mile high from the water's surface and twenty away from any form of land.

It was beginning to storm, quite coincidentally, I soon realized. Lightning was flashing all around me, and thunder roared in my ears as the wind picked up and the storm grew in intensity. I struggled to keep my footing at the edge of that building, and it almost seemed like the winds wanted me to escape. They were screaming at me, trying to guide me to freedom. I could hear the guards trying to break down the door to the roof, but none of that mattered. Only one thing did, and I was going to have that.

I took a breath, risking one look at the guards now running across the roof to me. I gave them a wry smile and a mock salute before turning my back to them and closing my eyes.

I jumped.

I thrived on the adrenaline rush I gained from breaking the water's surface. I shot back up almost instantly, and I can say I never felt quite the thrill. I was actually laughing as I swam away, giddy with pride and joy.

"Ya hear that Parkhurst?" I screamed over my shoulder, still laughing as I swam off. "It's the sound of freedom! Let it sink in, boys! You're never going to hear it again when I'm through!"

I don't remember much of my journey back. I do, however, remember collapsing onto the shore of Britain with the greatest exhaustion I had ever experienced. My limbs felt like lead, and I found I couldn't go any further, my chest heaving with each breath I took. I simply lay there, sprawled out on the beach shore in a pair of soaking wet jeans and a drenched purple t-shirt. I must've been quite the sight, a twelve year-old escaped mental patient laughing her head off, but I was too tired and overjoyed to care. I welcomed sleep for once, letting Morpheus claim me for I knew he held a night of pleasant dreams for me.