The sun reigned dominant in the sky.
I watched as a gentle breeze brushed the branches of a tall tree, its leaves falling and then blowing away in the wind. I wished to be like those leaves. Even though there was a window separating me from the outside, I could almost smell nature and feel the wind on my skin. I sighed, resting my chin on my two hands as I continued to stare out the window. Miss Garnier The mention of my last name caught my attention, and at that moment I noticed that Professor Taylor was standing next to me, very close to my chair, with her arms crossed over her chest. A perfect high ponytail held her brown hair; she was a very elegant woman. Her hazel eyes were filled with annoyance; she did not look happy. She raised one of her eyebrows and asked: Do you think that tree is more interesting than my class? -Actually, yes, but I would never say it out loud; I didn't want any trouble. I apologize, Mrs. Taylor; I did not mean to disrespect you in any way, I replied politely. Mrs. Taylor returned to her desk, muttering something unwillingly. At first glance, this place looked like an ordinary boarding school, but it wasn't. The Ashwood Institute was an experimental psychiatric hospital that had mostly young patients who suffered from some kind of disorder. The floors were categorized by levels of disorder: from mild, medium to severe. The patients on the first floor were allowed to attend a few regular, general classes in an attempt to keep us from falling behind academically and to give us the idea that we were normal. It also gave us something to do, something to entertain ourselves with in this lonely, isolated place. I didn't even know such places existed until my grandparents suggested it to me three weeks ago. Why? Because my parents are gone; they and my younger sister were murdered in cold blood two months ago. I couldn't remember that terrible night; everything was blurry and confusing when I tried to remember. The killer drugged me, making me a useless witness with no memories. Not remembering didn't make it any less painful or any easier to overcome. A week after that terrible night, my grandparents decided to send me here. I think they were not prepared to deal with me, a young adult of 18 years old diagnosed with PTSD, clinical depression, panic attacks, and suicidal tendencies; they feared for my life. Also, I was sure that I reminded them of my parents; I understood their pain. Anna- a soft voice whispered behind me. I turned half my body towards her. I told you my name is 'Anaís,' not Anna- I said to the only friend I had made so far. But Anna means gracious in Spanish, right? She pronounced Anaís wrong. Yes, but... -I sighed- Forget it. What do you want? I need your help... -she ran her fingers through her reddish hair.- With my French. I have a test tomorrow - She put on a sad expression, blinking, trying to convince me. Émilie hadn't told me the reasons she was here; there was no need. I had noticed her thin figure and the guards at the bathroom door coming in when she came in to watch her. I still remembered how my heart had sunk when I found out she suffered from an eating disorder. She was on a strict regimen of diet, medication, and psychotherapy. The day I arrived, she had just been transferred from the second floor to the first; apparently she was getting better, and that was a start. “How do you know I speak French?” she asked, curious. (Anna thought) French was my mother tongue; I was born in a quiet province in the north of France. My family and I had lived there until my father made some enemies because of his work. He was a lawyer and had sent some criminals to jail, who then decided to take revenge and started threatening him. So, my father decided it was best for us to move, and we came to Canada, where my grandparents live. Dad bought a beautiful cabin in the mountains, but a few months later, a killer broke in and killed everyone but me. The police ruled out that he was a mercenary; they said he was a serial killer who had already killed four families before mine, and they were struggling to find him. They didn’t know why he had chosen us; they hadn’t figured out his pattern yet. They said I was lucky to survive, but the least I felt was lucky. Anna? -Émilie's voice brought me out of my thoughts. I'm sorry, uh... again, how do you know I speak French? Well, your name is French and your accent; I think it's pretty obvious. Okay, I'll see what I can do. I'll see you after class - I faked a smile; I had completely forgotten what it felt like to really smile. (Class) "Miss Garnier," Mrs. Taylor called. I immediately looked at her. "Can you tell me what the third stage of grief is?" Negotiation Phase - I answered quickly. I knew she had noticed that I wasn't paying attention, and that's why she asked me. Good. Well, that's all for today. Have a great day; you may leave - everyone in the classroom began to gather their things -. Miss Garnier, come closer for a moment - I was surprised by her request, so I just nodded, walking to her desk. Is something wrong, Mrs. Taylor? No, I have been informed that you did not go to your appointment with the psychologist yesterday, nor to group therapy. Oh... that. With all due respect, Mrs. Taylor, I don't think I need it. I'm afraid that decision is not yours. You've been through a lot, and we need to make sure you're coping and getting better. I am not crazy. And that's not what I'm saying. The psychologist and group therapy can help you. He is unknown, and that group is depressing. He is an expert in his field of study. Just give him a chance; do it for your family - I really didn't want to keep seeing the psychologist. I didn't like talking about my parents; it was too painful. I can't. Anna, I'm not your enemy, but if you keep missing, they'll move you to the second floor where you won't have the freedom you have here, and they'll force you to go to therapy. Do you want that? “No,” I answered honestly. “Okay, Mrs. Taylor, I’m going to keep my next appointment.” There was no point in arguing; i won’t be here for my next appointment. <> "Well, you can go now," she said, looking at me through her glasses. I left the class and turned right to walk down the long hallway. A crowd of women was invading the place: this part of the school was for women. The men were in the other wing, to prevent us from mixing. It was already difficult enough to have an institution full of young people; imagine, young people recovering from their mental health. Our uniform consisted of blue cloth pants and a shirt of the same color with a tag on the left side of our chest with our name and patient number. Yeah, our uniform wasn’t sexy or pretty; what can I say? It was a mental hospital. Sometimes, I felt like I was in prison. I held my books to my chest as I made my way to my room. When I got to my door, I walked in and closed it behind me. I rested my body on it and took a few steps until I faced the mirror. The girl in the reflection looked like a zombie. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her skin lacked any glow or softness. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders; her dark blue eyes stared back at me with such sadness. > I sighed. The day had come. I turned on my feet and headed to my bed, sitting up; I just had to wait for the night.After a few hours, darkness began to flow through my room, and I glanced at the clock: 8:10 p.m. I carefully stepped out, looking in both directions down the hallway. I walked slowly toward the stairs; I knew the guard for the girls' wing wasn't there because I had memorized her routine. That was guard changing time; I had five minutes before the night guard arrived. The first floor didn't have as much security as the second and third. The regular stairs were heavily guarded starting from the second and third floors. But the outside emergency stairs couldn't be blocked by law, and as the guard changed, I had a few seconds to reach them and climb up to the roof. As soon as I reached the rooftop, the wind blew my hair back violently. The night was deadly cold, as usual. I pulled my jacket tighter around my body, trying to protect myself from the breeze that chilled my skin.The sight of the dark forest surrounding the mental hospital building was a little scary, along with the light of
The sun was warming my skin, and it felt so good. I was sitting on the grass with my head held high, with my mother by my side. She giggled, getting my attention. “What?” I asked, curious, looking at her. Her blonde hair was in a high ponytail, her features and blue eyes exposed. We were always told how much we looked alike. “You really love the sun, don't you? You got that from me," she smiled sweetly. I heard laughter and saw Elise—my younger sister running toward us. Her curly brown hair fell over her small shoulders, and she had a sparkle in her eyes that was unmatched. “Mom! I have a sunflower! Look!” She opened her hands and showed me her new acquisition. “It's beautiful, Elise! Where did you find it?” my mom asked, grabbing the flower. “It was there,” Elise pointed behind us. I smiled widely, admiring my little sister; she was always so happy. Suddenly, darkness began to flow around us. The sun disappeared, and a cold breeze brushed against my skin, sending shivers down
“At 5:00 a.m.?” the girl exclaimed in disbelief. “People do that sometimes, you know,” I said, showing him my towel and soap. “Strange people do that,” the girl replied, shaking her head. “I’m Lyra.” She extended her hand toward me. She was going to say my name, but I knew she’d never pronounce it correctly. “Anna.” I shook her hand. “What's with your accent?” the boy frowned. “Leave her alone, Flynn.” Lyra smiled at me before focusing on him again. “Before he—” Lyra pulled him by the hair and kissed him passionately. I looked away uncomfortably. A few seconds later, Flynn was climbing out the window. He took one last look at us and blew a kiss to Lyra. “See you tomorrow at the bonfire,” Flynn whispered and disappeared into the shadows. “Bonfire?” I asked. Lyra looked at me for a second as if she were hesitant to tell me. “Yes, it's a secret celebration. You know boys and girls can't mix in this crazy place, so we have a midnight bonfire once a month where boys and girls can
A few hours later, I was in class, resting my chin on my hands again. I chose the chair near the window so I could look out whenever I wanted. It was my escape. “Anna,” Emilie whispered behind me. “Yeah…” “You didn't help me with my French yesterday; my evaluation is this afternoon.” “I'm sorry I forgot.” “Can you explain at least some things to me over lunch?” “Okay…” “Thank you! Thank you! You are a sweetheart.” Professor Ryan continued talking about the different religions that exist in the world while I looked at a tree in the garden. “Cowards will not enter the kingdom of heaven…” I remembered the hooded man's words from the night before. Who was he? I was sure he was a patient here, but what was he doing on the roof of the girls' wing? An image came to my mind: his grey eyes and those thick lips. That was all I could see of him. I sighed; I had to stop thinking about this stranger. The rest of the day was the usual routine; more classes. I had a little fun teaching Emi
“Lyra, wait!” I exclaimed as I followed her through the dark hallways of the mental institution. She was walking fast. We were heading for the bonfire, but at that moment I regretted my decision. If we got caught, I doubted I would come out of this unscathed. But the adrenaline was flowing through my veins, and it felt good. The clock was almost striking midnight. “Just hurry up,” Lyra whispered as she continued on her way. I stared at her back as I silently followed her; Lyra had a nice body, I must admit. She was wearing tight jeans and a white long-sleeved t-shirt. She had a small waist and rounded hips. Her black hair was in a ponytail. She looked really good, which made me evaluate my outfit once again. I was wearing baggy pants and a loose purple shirt with a pair of purple Converse. I sighed; looking attractive had never been my thing anyway. “Anna?” “Hey?” “You can see the guard over there.” She pointed ahead; there was a young woman sitting in front of a metal gate. “She
I wondered as I realized I had nothing to do there; I had no friends and only knew Lyra and Flynn. I sighed; maybe I shouldn't have gone there in the first place. I heard some girls laughing, and I remembered my little sister. The way she laughed was unique; I always remembered that. Looking down, I felt sadness wash over me once again. I missed her… a lot. It’s hard when you’re used to seeing three people every day of your life and then suddenly lose them. I sighed; maybe I should just leave. That place wasn’t for me. I stood up and started walking toward the path that would take me to the school’s backyard again. I felt a few stares on me, but I paid them no mind. I looked at the ground, trying not to step on a rock, and crashed into a strong chest. “Ouch!” I exclaimed, taking a step back and rubbing my nose. “Are you okay?” a soft voice asked, and I looked up, staring at the source. There was a blond man, staring at me with big green eyes. He looked so much like Luis, my crush
I was frozen; the hooded boy was there in front of me. I didn't expect to see him. I had so many questions, yet for some reason, I couldn't get a word out. His grey eyes looked deep and intimidating to anyone who looked at them. I lowered my gaze, trying to avoid his. “Anaís.” I looked up in surprise; he pronounced my name perfectly. “That's your name, right?” “How do you know my name?” “I just know,” he shrugged indifferently. “I must say, you're not very good at hiding.” I... “Although you are good at hiding what you feel.” “What? What are you talking about?” “Nothing, forget it.” “What do you want?” I asked, remembering that he had found me, so he had the right to ask me something. He moved his head to the side and then took a few steps toward me until he was close enough for the fragrance of a delicious cologne to brush my nose; it smelled very good. “What do I want?” he asked, pacing around me, making me nervous. I felt like prey about to be devoured by its pred
"Anna!" someone shook me by the shoulders. I slowly opened my eyes and saw a blurry face. "Anna?" I blinked a few times until my vision became clear. "God, it's so hard to wake you up," Émilie added, leaning back. I looked at her in confusion, forced myself to sit up, and looked around, realizing I was in my room. "What happened?" My head ached, memories of the previous night filling my mind. The bonfire… Logan… Xander… the blood… him… Oh my God… I exclaimed, jumping out of bed. "What's wrong?" Émilie asked, surprised. "The blood… I…" I checked my clothes; I no longer had on the purple t-shirt and dark pants that I had put on before going to the bonfire. I was in pajamas. I felt totally disoriented. "Hurry up! We're going to be late," Émilie said, standing up and then walking over to the mirror. "Where is the blood?" “What blood?” Émilie frowned, fixing her red hair. "I... I was... it wasn't a nightmare, was it? I came back to my dorm last night, and there was bloo