What happens when a finger painting prodigy hitches a ride from a disfigured biker? Why chaos of course!
Quirky, oddball Georgie is anything but normal. For years she hasn't only suffered from a lack of filter but she also has "episodes." She can't...
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It starts with one hand.
It squeezes me as if I am a piece of wood between a vice on a workbench, growing into a burst of multiple hands chaotically gripping me in the darkness. They yank and claw over my body in unwanted attention, trying to take me away. Trying to save me from this mind-numbing space and bring me back into the harsh reality.
Every inch of me revolts.
Except my mind.
It stays numb.
I shut out their unwarranted touch, focusing on the tingling that prickles down my arms and fingers. The sensation is like I had woken up from a deep surgical slumber, my anesthetized body sluggish but blissfully so. I've never felt more alive, even in this drugged state. This bizarre energy surges through me, my fingers, hands, and arms dancing awkwardly across an unknown canvas. Everything bends and contorts in ways that almost hurt. At times it gets to the point where it's like I'm on a medieval torture device.
Other times...I welcome the pain.
This is a twisted game I'm forced to play often...
... and too much.
My focus is interrupted when I'm jerked back so hard my body goes into shock. It's as if I've been plunged into water so cold I'm suffocating. My lungs throb and tighten causing my throat to close up and for me to croak.
I hover in the in-between.
Vines branch out from the clouds of smoke and tether themselves to me. Now I'm being pulled from every angle and stuck in an all-out war between fantasy and reality, not knowing who the victor will be.
Hands or vines?
I've never been pulled out before, but I've also never had so many hands trying to pry me out.
The screaming becomes real and all too soon as I'm pulled from the in-between and thrown into reality. Black dots start to disappear one by one and soon my eyesight is restored only to find all of my classmates looking at me in horror. Those violating hands remove themselves from me as an eerie silence coats the air.
There's no feeling like the one you experience when someone is truly, deeply terrified of you. And here I am with a group of fifty some people, with some guys who could easily snap my neck with their big hands, each and every one of them looking at me with those same eyes. Eyes that have haunted me my whole life and have shown me time and time again that some expressions are truly universal... like fear.
Taking a deep breath I close my eyes and force on a bubbly smile, trying to pretend what happened didn't just... well, happen. The minute my eyes pop back open and I jump up on my feet, I realize I made a terrible error.
I freaked them out more.
All of them take a step away from me and then my attention turns to the floor and there I'm face to face with a horrible sight. What I did on that floor is the invisible scar in my brain that for years no one has ever been able to see. Now it's out in the open, raw, ugly and a disturbing silent scream.
