Unhinged

So what's the planeil, daniel?

They dragged me along, stopping at what I assumed was a gate, and then continued to push me until we stepped inside of what felt like a building. As you can tell, a lot of guessing was going on. This blindfold was making the whole ordeal a lot harder.

"Can you take this thing off?" I said, bringing my tied hands up and gesturing towards my face. Surprisingly, I felt it ripped off and light hit my eyes, blinding me temporarily. Blinking, I squinted and looked around, my eyes falling on several piles of wooden boxes. A few guns lay haphazardly on top of them, but other than that the building was empty. It looked like a giant warehouse and smelled like alcohol and drugs. Men loitered around, and I felt their eyes on me, a few interested, but most of them looked hostile or bored.

One man stepped forward from the gloom, and the five men surrounding me straightened. Was this their boss?

"Perché hai portato questa ragazza qui? Sai cosa potrebbe succedere se qualcuno ci seguisse?" He said, his voice rough. 

(Translation: Why did you bring this girl here? Do you know what could happen if someone followed us?)

A man pushed me forward, clearing his throat. "È una spia russa. Potrebbe avere informazioni preziose." 

(Translation: She's a Russian spy. She might have valuable information.)

I wasn't Russian at all, but whatever. I was still hoping they meant American, so I could actually be of some use and not killed the second they realized I didn't know anything about the Russian Mafia.

Time to make a plan.

"Um, excuse me?" I said in my sweetest voice. I felt all of their eyes turn to me. "Can we make a deal?"

The guy in front of me lifted an eyebrow, which I took as my cue to continue. "I'll tell you what you need to know, and you'll treat me like your guest. Or maybe a guest on lock down. Whatever floats your boat."

He motioned for the grunty guy and the pushy one to come forward. They formed a triangle and spoke quietly, ever so often looking over at me. The room was tense, waiting for a decision to be made. I was surprised they had a democracy going on. Nice of him to take everyone's opinions into perspective.

"Fine. Take her to the boss." He waved a dismissive hand at me, and the two guys came back, grabbing my arms and pulling me along.

I thought he was the boss. If I'd known he was second in command, I wouldn't have been so polite. Oh well. Whatever keeps me alive long enough to do some damage.

...............

They put the blindfold back on me and dragged me to the van, throwing me inside once again. 

Thankfully, they left the gag off, making it easier to breathe. I sat in silence for a while, contemplating my situation. Gradually I became aware of a soft melody playing in the background. It sounded like a waltz.

I closed my eyes letting the music engulf me, listening as the the piece's notes went from soft to loud, floating all around me, the swell of music making my heart leap. I knew it wasn't really playing, probably a tune my brain picked up while listening to the radio, but still, it was magical.

I guess it's time I explained.

Several years ago, exactly three days after my brother disapeared, I was diagnosed. Turns out I had some form of schizophrenia, making me see and hear things, sometimes even feel them. Of course I was given medication, but I was stubborn. I didn't want to take it.

Look how that turned out.

When my parents died, it felt as though a part of me had broken in two, and my brother disapearing was the cherry on top. I turned to alcohol and getting diagnosed didn't help. I started drinking at all times of the day, and I was almost always drunk or wasted. My health degraded, and my schizophrenia got even worse, making me see all sorts of things, from giraffes walking across the street to hearing haunting melodies, like the one I was listening to right now.

It wasn't good. At all. 

I was walking home from a bar, particularly hammered that night, when I passed out in the street. The details are foggy, like a dream you can't quite remember. It started to rain, the phantom drops strangely comforting. When I finally came back to my senses, I pushed myself up, catching a glimpse of myself in a dark puddle. 

Vacant eyes, dark circles, skinny, with limp hair and overall looking like I was on death's door step. Which I probably was. And right behind me I saw my parents, gazing at me sadly as though I was a lost puppy they found, but had to give away.

It was some weird-ass Harry Potter sh*t.

I realized then and there no one was going to pull my life together for me.

No fairy godmother was going to bippity-boppity-boop my problems away.

I had to fix things myself.

I spent a year in rehab, doing all the normal things a former 19 year old alcoholic would do. I started working out anytime I got a craving or just wanted to pick up a bottle. Which was a lot.

It kind of passed by in a blur.

I still wasn't perfect, and I drank more than the average 21 year old, but I was a lot better, and it was legal. I even began to teach a fitness class, which I absolutely loved. I could escape, even if it was just for a little while, with my body, running or doing push ups, feeling the burn in my lungs and legs. It grounded me.

And so that left me where I was now. Adultnapped, with my schizophrenia no better, and probably going to get worse, considering I left my pills at home. I didn't think they would take kindly to me asking to turn around, so I could get my meds. 

At least I wasn't a full blown alcoholic anymore.

I felt myself drift to sleep, the soft waltz fading out, and let numbness consume me.

.................