Awake

Chapter 1: HPOV

“I guess you could say, I take after my Mother…” I begin cautiously rubbing my hand against the cotton pants this God forsaken place gave me. The strange man that sat in front of me smelled of fireplace. The warm waft hugging my skin. I should feel welcomed, I should relax against it but instead my muscles tense even tighter. In the distance, you could hear the screams of insanity. The fires consuming people too far gone. That is where I was going- straight towards the flames. The man in front of me is wearing a white lab coat, glasses, and  white dress shirt with one button sliding out of its place near his neck. He wore white from head to toe in fact. That was the accepted attire for everyone here. I listen to the screams, flashes reminding me why I’m here- though making me even more confused. “I mean that’s what you want to hear..right? She once thought the same thing as me- only makes sense I was an impressionable young adult when she ‘lost her mind’.”

“What do you mean?” My Doctor asks, raising a peppered eyebrow. His voice gentle and warm, my toes curl against the cool white rubbery surface of the chair. I flinch away from his voice, shaking my head.

“Well, why am I here?” I scoff, answering his question with my own. I pull my legs up to hug them towards my chest, my body curling as if to hug my legs.My mind repeats the same thing over and over, Give me enough strength to sit in the same room as this man, ugh. I can just feel his eyes studying every movement I make. Every sound coming from me. Writing down professional things to say. Another way to define me as insane. Another thing that might be wrong with me.

“You know exactly why, Hanna.” He grumbles sighing loudly straightening his lab coat jacket.

“Do you though?” I point to him, outstretching my arm straight. He blinks, looking at me quizzically raising his  peppered brow a bit higher.

“Hanna, you’re straying off the subject.” He sighs losing patience faster than a rock dropping into a well.  I sigh lightly rolling my eyes and look at my white padded wall. Standing out among the other threads woven into a fragile, thin fabric was a thread coming undone. I wonder when the others will fray out, until everyone is unwoven.

“Doctor,” I begin to say, “You should know why your patients are here...right? It’s a simple question. All you have to do is show me you know me..” I smile up at him, treating him like he treats me. His face changes slightly, an expression I only see when I happen to smile. I can’t quite place a name to it.

“Well,” He flips to the front of his legal pad, to the first time we started talking. A total of thirty or so pages. Though, it seems longer. With each page turn, I feel as though my case looks less and less truthful. Perhaps I really am as mad as a hatter. Then again, who isn’t? “You have hallucinations. You suffer from psychotic depression. Possible PTSD. You are a compulsive liar, and a great story teller. You are unstable to be out in the real world...And to make things worse, you describe yourself as a revolutionist. Something we cannot take lightly, I’m afraid..”

“Nor would I want you to take that lightly,” I nod in approval. At least they got one thing right, this is a real movement. I shouldn't be taken lightly. I look at him and tilt my head,  wondering who he was. Was he a doctor in the real world? What did he think when he first started connecting with the Earth? And did he get put to sleep easily? If so, why didn't he fight harder? Was he even real? Or was he just compiled of numbers in a program?

“There are pages and pages, Hanna. Of stories,” He shakes his head flipping through them all. “How there was a time of ‘Awakening’,” He quotes me. “You say people started to gain affinities? Like Air, Water, Fire….Our Leader putting people ‘To Sleep’ and putting them in a perfect world where you say these affinities just...vanished? It is scattered, it doesn't make sense, it isn't real. It’s a story your brain has reproduced in order to deal with an underlying issue and as soon as we can deal with that...the sooner you will be able to handle the truth, go out into the real world, but first you must accept the fact that these stories are not real.” He points at me with his fountain pen. I shoot up from my seat then, standing tall and looking at him dead in the face.