The nightmares wouldn't stop. Every night, gunshots and pentagrams bombarded me in my sleep. I was slowly getting convinced that maybe, a human didn't murder them, but rather something supernatural. Although, my therapist, Miss Payne, said otherwise. She would go on, and on, and on about how it was just part of my imagination and that my parents' deaths were not caused by anything unusual.
It could have been my way of coping. Miss Payne said kids that experience PTSD often have flashbacks and nightmares that relate to the traumatic situation. Even though she was the one to diagnose me, she would never write a prescription to help me. I continued to have neverending nightmares and anxiety only because of her.
Since I was snatched up by CPS the day after my parents' death, I now lived on the other side of the country with a loving (ish) family. They adopted me not long after Mom's and Dad's death. Although they were always nice and they cared for me like their own child, I couldn't help but think they felt burdened with a "crazy" child. Sadie, my "mom", and Robert, my "dad", were a couple who moved from England "for a change of scenery" as they told me. They were your average couple. Sadie was a chef at the local restaurant and Robert was a lawyer. I knew they were amazing people and I knew they wanted to make me feel as comfortable as possible, but I couldn't stomach calling them mom and dad. It let wrong; it was like insulting my real parents' memories.
Every day, I would wake up in a cold sweat coating my dark skin. My eyes would barely open because of the dried-up tears coating my lids. I didn't even recognize myself as the girl who wrestled in matches twice a week anymore. I had developed permanent eyebags under my dark brown eyes.
You know the old proverb "The eyes are the window to the soul"? It was like someone had drawn curtains behind my eyes blocking anyone from even acknowledging that there was once a happy-go-lucky teen behind the tired and stressed persona that I held.
I hardly made any friends in my new residence of Cape Elizabeth, Maine. I was new to a tiny town. Since I was in such a state of distress, not even counting the PTSD, and I was new to a tight-knit high school, no one wanted to be my friend. I was fine with that since I had a tendency to not trust anyone new, even if they had good intentions.
Each day was the same as the last. I would wake up stressed, go to school, barely talk at all and score low grades on my assignments, go home, not do my homework, and go to sleep. And the cycle repeated.
But today was not at all like the others. It was "normal", well, as normal as life was to me until I came home.
As I dragged my book-filled backpack upstairs, I caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror. A black tear was slowly falling out of my eye. I wiped it off while panicking about what it could mean. I thought it was just my imagination until I saw what (or who) was sitting on my bed.
AN//
Ash, if you're reading this, you didn't get your answers because I decided to leave you and everyone else on a cliffhanger (:
YOU ARE READING
Out of Bounds
FantasyDaisy was once a typical high school student. Emphasis on was. Then her parents were murdered, but Daisy began to think that the paranormal had something to do with it. Anytime she told people her theory, they shunned her, they said to her that she...
