Blind to Hope✔️

Chapter Eight~I'm fine.

I wasn't sure how long I stayed there, kowtowing on the floor, just imagining how much my Chosen hated me when the door opened.

Wearily, I lifted my head, barely having the energy to do so. A man I recognized to be Dr. Roberts walked in, this was it I guess. Time to be locked away.

He looked down upon me, looking at me quizzically, wearing a frown for a moment before he forced a smile to his face, "I've been told our beds are actually quite comfortable," He told me gesturing to it and then looking at me, "but I don't blame you for choosing the ground. Do you want a candy?"

He produced a handful of hard candies from his pocket and knelt down so I could easily reach them. My stomach rolled uncomfortably at the thought of any food, especially candy so I shook my head, "No thank you." I whispered crossing my arms across my stomach in an attempt to keep myself together. I felt like I was floating by myself through a thick black fog, my head was pulsing and screaming at me, the lights in the room too bright for me to handle. I wanted to sprawl across the cold floor, and rest my cheek upon it. Even though I wanted to leave the hospital, I also wanted to stay here. In here I could ignore reality, I could forget about all my problems.

Better yet, I longed for the forest that I had made my home. Away from all civilization. I could stay there for eternity by myself, watching the leaves change colors, fall, and regrow year after year until the trees themselves died. I'd watch a thousand sunsets and sunrises, until a permanent eclipse took over the world. I'd grow older, my hair turning white and wrinkles telling the world the events I'd surpassed, until I died alone and forgotten. 

But I couldn't do that because my Chosen thought I was insane.

I'd been beaten and tortured since birth, it was just me trying to pretend I was alright by thinking my parents just 'punished' me. But I knew better, even if I tried not to. They hated me. I'd made their lives miserable to the point where they wanted to make me live in an agonizing world too. The only escape I ever got were those brief minutes that I could escape into a vision.

My Chosen were my saviors even if it was me who was supposed to save them. Even though I was in the visions to rescue them from death, I grew to care for them and the outlook they saw of the world. My Chosen had been hurting and struggling just like I was. I grew determined to save them, even if I couldn't save myself.

For hours upon hours while I was awake I scoured for ideas on how to help them. Slowly, painfully slowly, I brought them together using the small visions to use my persuasion on all of them and anyone else who was in the vision. I found that North was Luke's step brother, and fed that information into their uncle's mind. It was him who brought North to America along with Silas, but it was my work. It was me who brought them to the Academy in hopes that the angel run organization would help them-and it did. They were able to grow in the Academy, learn new skills and when they were finally in a good situation they helped those who were not. It was the most amazing feeling to see where my years of work had gotten them. They were happy, they had friends, they had a new family. But where had it gotten me?

Insanity.

It had gotten me beaten by my parents. It had alienated me from my sister who deemed fit to cut deep wounds into my flesh just to take my golden blood and sell it. It had made it so I had no friends, I'd been too tired and worried to try to make them. I'd dedicated my life to the nine of them, like I should have. At any time I could have broken the bond between us, I could have freed myself from the torture, but I didn't give up on them. I didn't give up on them, like they had with me. They thought I was insane, and perhaps I was. Years of torture could do that for a person, but I had done it for them. But now they wanted to toss my into an asylum.