Forsaken In My Nightmares

Eric

"You just get used to the pain to the point that it doesn't hurt anymore." That saying is indeed very true, and I would know. A month after our parents died, two men came to our home and separated Kara and I. They took me to some sort of a mental asylum and tied me to some weird looking chair. I was already starting to hate this place. They tortured me horribly as well as other children that were there as well. Keep in mind I was ten years old back then, and I saw horrible things that no ten year old should have to watch let alone endure. I once had to see a child get killed by one of the doctors, in fact I saw a lot of children get killed. They forced me to take some sort of drug which made me feel depressed, anxious, have suicidal thoughts, and I didn't feel like myself anymore. They locked me up by myself in a room for twenty-four hours with this drug in my body that made me feel like I just wanted to die.

One day I escaped this horrifying place and ran straight back home. Even though I had been at that asylum for five years, I still remembered where I used to live. When I got there I saw Kara, just as I remembered her, except that now she was being held by this woman. I saw hatred in that woman's eyes, almost like she detested my sister. I barged into the house, grabbed the knife from my pocket that I had stolen from the asylum and killed the woman. I felt nothing. I felt empty. That's when I knew I was a psychopath. Five year old Kara was terrified, she was scared of me. I tried to hug her but she ran away from me. Once I got a hold of her, I injected something into her body that would make her forget about everything. Once she woke up she wouldn't remember anything of what happened that night or before. Three years have passed and I still find it hard to get rid of those blood-curdling memories. Every single morning, I wake up and I am once again a prisoner to my depression.