C
CookieMonster
Guest
Original poster
She eventually came upon a river. And she looked at it, and found herself incredibly thirsty. So she went to drink. Except the water wasn't water. And she started choking, and she fell. She laid there with her eyes open, her last image the bountiful stream and the pretty trees in the background. Their limbs hanging and effortlessly painting a beautiful picture.
It was so pretty. For something so dark.
She woke up with a start, and her chest rose with panic as she took some deep breaths. When she calmed down, she realized there were two warm streams of water coming from her eyes. Ones she didn't even know she was making. She was never one for tears. I guess, was, is the correct term now. Of course she didn't know that.
She lingered on her dream for a moment, but she shook it off and got up. She walked, her hands slowly swaying in the breeze. She was too scared to be confused. And at the same time, She was too confused to be scared. Her surroundings were definitely different, but that didn't matter. She walked forwards, her face usually blank except for the occasional eye-dart. There was nothing to see, really. Nothing to feel. Nothing to be. She took a look around and found a shack. She walked inside, and the sand blew around as the door opened and closed. As she entered, the building reminded her of something nostalgic, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She waited in line as various people watched, signed, and left. Her turn arrived, and she read down the rules. She looked up at the man, and her gaze lingered on the second rule. She shrugged, and then proceeded to go through a number of expressions. Happy, goofy laugh, maniacal evil laugh and cheeky smile. She did each one, and then looked at the man. "I should get them out of my system, just in case." She said, and quickly scribbled a few letters in what she thought might be cursive. It probably looked like someone gave a toddler an ink pen and told them to write Velociraptor, because that was probably what she had intended to write, anyways. She exited the small building and a memory came back quicker than she could push it away.
Callie sat in her bed, staring at the wall. This is what she did after she had been crying, and she had been crying for quite some time. The voices inside her head were talking among themselves, and she did nothing to shut them up. Her best friend had recently put a bullet in her brain. Callie sat, the only comfort was the soft fabric beneath her limp body. She thought of their last conversation, and drew a blank. "Maybe if you hadn't told her the truth about Andy, she could've resisted." She shook her head, her only movement in the last ten minutes other than the steady swing of her feet over the side of her bed. She looked over to her pills, and she remembered she had forgotten to take her pills. That's why they were back. Well, they never left. A better statement would be, that's why you can hear them. She chose to postpone her pills and laid back down in her bed. She fell asleep, and pulled the covers over her as she entered the only bliss she had nowadays.
The next few hours were hell. She went through sweats, chills, blinding pain, and the worst part, the endless round of emotions that would hit her like a brick wall. She never left her bed. Not once. Her emotions would rapidly change course, and by hour three, she had had enough. She looked over to her nightstand, and wrapped her thin, frail fingers around the orange and white bottle of pills. She held it delicately, like it was a bomb that had just been activated. She opened the lid, and looked inside. She had more than ten pills. And as she counted them, she became more and more willing to the idea of letting go. Of downing them and closing her eyes for the incoming sleep. Without another thought, she poured the contents of the neon orange bottle and swallowed them with the help of some water. She then closed her eyes and fell back asleep. She never woke again, until now. If you could call this reality being awake.
