I. AM. NOT. INSANE.

This is the first in a series. The sequel is out on my page now. It is called 'Parallel Time' and explains both before and after this story. :)

Do you hear that?

The footsteps are coming.

Slowly, I unfold myself from the raggedy covers, that they call a blanket. I always do this when I hear the first footsteps. I know I won’t see them and they won’t see me- after all they haven’t for the last 284 days- but still, hope is the only thing keeping me going. That and my notebook.

My door clatters, when the flap comes up and my food and drink for the day is delivered. It wobbles precariously on the side, like it does so many times, and I know if I’m not careful, it will fall. Of course, I couldn’t ask for any more, because it was obviously all my fault for not getting it quickly enough and it was obviously not their fault for being too rough.

“I AM NOT INSANE!” A shriek pieces the air, shattering the silence. My flap bangs shut, and the voice is cut off. Now I won’t hear a voice for the next 24 hours, except mine. I always talk to myself. Does that make me insane? I don’t know. 

After all, this is a lunatic asylum.

The food falls, clattering loudly on the floor, then the water follows suit, soaking through the bread, making it a horrible, inedible mess, which I have no means of clearing up, except my so-called blanket. It’s not like I need it much for a while, because I think it’s about springtime. It makes sense if I came here in June last year. 

Counting is the only way I can keep track of time. I may be slightly wrong because the sky never changes now and I don’t know when one day ends and another starts. I just mark off a day for each time food is delivered. 

Each day to me is the same. The same footsteps sound and then the same food is delivered. Sometimes I catch it, sometimes I don’t. And then the footsteps go. I stare at the wall. I write in my notebook. I read my notebook. I stare at the wall. At some point I have 5 minutes to run to the showers and toilet. I have never seen anyone else, but I know they’re there. They always are. 

I decide to leave the food there. It’ll be easier to clean up later when the water has dried and the food has solidified- I know, I talk from experience. 

I retreat to my bed, where I have my notebook and pen stashed. I’m not supposed to have them- after all I’m just a crazy girl, with no rational thought left, according to them- so I keep them hidden in the room no one ever goes in. It’s getting full, my handwriting is now cramped and scrawled in every direction across each page, cross hatched in a way no one will ever be able to read except me. 

1- They’ve locked me up. I know I deserve it, but I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I’m not crazy. I’m not insane. At least I don’t think I am. I heard others screaming on the way here, and they’re insane, but I’m not. Not yet.

2- I was locked out today. I was lost on the way back from the showers. They tell me that I’m lucky they didn’t shoot me, that I’m still alive, but I’m not sure. I think it would just be kinder to shoot me. 

I would never make that mistake now. I would have told them to shoot me.

That was the first voice I had heard in over 24 hours. Sane one at any rate. I can almost constantly hear the screams of the other inmates here. I’m not sure where here is. I have been trying to work it out all day. I can’t see the sun, so I know I’m underground. But that means I could be anywhere outside of the radiation grounds. Million and millions and millions of miles. I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.

3- I haven’t spoken all day. I don’t want to. I would rather think all my thoughts in my head, than let others think I’ve gone up there. I speak only through my writing, with my thoughts piling up, and up and up. My mind is filled with so many thoughts, buzzing away, darting in all directions, but they all lead to the same place. That one thought I hate to think. The boy.

I remember these first few days so vividly, and with it comes a panic. I hated small, confined spaces.

9- Let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out 

17- I had a dream last night. I suppose I have them often, but I had one I remembered last night. I was free. Out there, where there are no walls penning me in. I remember there was a bird, an eagle I think, with my mother’s eyes. I followed it for hours. I wish I knew where it was leading me, but I woke up. I’m going to think of that bird everyday. I’m not going to forget. The bird will come back, it will take me away. Maybe. Hopefully. Only when I dream, but never in reality. 

18- I had a dream last night. No bird, but the boy. It is the first time I have dreamed about him, not since then, not since I saw his blood cascade from his body, soaking through my shoes, my socks, my skin. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to. 

58- I saw someone today. A guard. He didn’t talk so neither did I. He came and knocked on my door. I thought I was going to be shot- hoped it almost. Instead he led me out and up a flight of stairs. Now I write from a different room, identical except for a 10cm glass window. I haven’t stopped looking out of it today. I can’t believe how much it has changed. I still can’t work out where I am, because… everything is… gone. Killed. Just a wasteland. I didn’t know the radiation was this bad. I thought it was just bad and would go away in a few months, leaving life to live, but no. Everything is gone. Everything I have ever known and loved is gone. Still, I have not left the window. Maybe if I keep staring, it won’t be there anymore.

98- I think I’ve forgotten how to speak. I can feel the words on the tips of my tongue, but that’s as far as they go. They don’t escape into the big bad world where they can be laughed up but stay safely locked up inside my head. I wish they could escape. I wish I could escape.

126- I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane .I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. I’m not insane. 

143- I dream of running and running and running and not stopping and not looking back. It gives me hope, dangerous hope, but hope all the same. I know nothing is going to change anytime soon, but I can still imagine running. 

176- I haven’t eaten in 4 days. I am not going to eat. 

180- I was forced to eat. They said I had to or else, even though they didn’t specify what the ‘or else’ was. 

203- The birds have died. I think. I haven’t seen one in 203 days, even though I’ve looked through this window everyday for the last 145 days. I suppose the radiation killed them, like it killed my world. Everything was dying when I was taken. If they didn’t go underground, they’re probably dead. I suppose I’m lucky in that sense, that I’m alive, but I would give anything to go outside. I am trapped in here, contained like the wild animal I supposedly am. I can’t leave, or live properly. My life is now lived between the pages of my notebook. 

Everyday I read different pages. Except the first three. I always read them. I relive those moments everyday. I remember the panic, that I never stopped feeling, the remorse. I remember the memories that haunt me, seared into my mind, so much so that the image never leaves. 

Do you hear that?

The footsteps are coming.

Do you hear that?

My door is opening. 

The only bit of freedom I get each day is now when I shower.

I go to the door and look out.

Do I run this time?