Mental Deviations

I don’t understand this.  I the deep recesses of my being, the sound of rolling thunder ebbed away and left the nostalgic silence.  My inner self was trapped in a perpetual winter, chilled to the bone, but not quite frozen.  It is an eerie sensation that I cannot at all describe.  Here, I’ve had all the time to ponder away what has truly led me to this place.  This place, of horrid dreams and late nights of wondering what in the world you’re existence is for.  This place, where people assume if you’re here, you’re a mental defect.  This place I was condemned to months ago.  They said I committed a mortal sin.  They said that I deserve a fate much worse than this.  My mentality, as the people in this asylum whisper behind my back, is what saved me from the “worse” fate.  And so I thought. I thought about my “mortal sin” and why all these people can’t empathize with my situation.  Why out of all these people, one person can’t understand why I did what I did. And that, my newfound friend, is what I cannot understand.
   Any “insane” person would try to persuade you into believing that this was just a normal day in Mr. Roger’s neighborhood. That everyone was smiling, including the black sunglass clad sun, flowers were bouncing up and down singing disturbingly happy songs, and that there were “happy rainbows” on every street corner.  No, let me tell you right now, this was no normal, joy to the world, yay humanity, peace on earth kind of day. That kind of a day has yet to be recorded in history.  No, it was a blustery November morning, with fallen leaves playing tag all across the street.  The section of street I lived on was like its own little uncharted island, isolated from the rest of the street with a thick and lengthy patch of rich emerald grass.  I always thought the person who plotted out my street probably had some serious ADD problems, and was better suited in an institute like mine.
    I was just pulling my front door closed, 100 yards away from the emerald sea, when I heard the most spine-chilling of silences.  That’s what was so paranormal about this.  What could be so unnerving about a silence? Well, I cannot tell you at all why, but the silence suffocated my ears with its nothingness.  I scampered out from under the overhanging on my porch, and onto the sidewalk, hurrying away from the unnatural taciturnity. My ghostly white skin hissed in the pale patches of sunlight that shined all over the place, and I shielded my cerulean eyes.
   Stepping now into the grass, I walked even faster, sensing the silence catching up with me. It bore through the carefree scattering of leaves, and the thunderous noise my boots made as they collided with earth. Finally I had reached asphalt again, and I tugged anxiously on my gray sweater dress and lucky rabbits foot waist bag, but still the silence chased after me. No longer could I hold back my fearful urge to run, and I raced with the wind, making as much noise as I possibly could.
   I ran nearly a mile, when I reached a major intersection, and stopped. The silence exploded above my head in one burst, and then was gone.  I looked around wildly, but could see nothing, and in my awkwardness, continued on walking to school.
   Every other day, I’d normally just saunter a mile to my high school, quiet as a mouse, and sit down in my first period class.  As my teacher lectured on about the war of 1812, I’d lay my head down on my desk and have extravagant conversations with the people in my head, a set of twins, Nami and Echo. I’d lay there for the entire 90 minutes smiling and giggling when I thought up a clever joke. At those times, I felt truly peaceful and happy.  Now, keep in mind, I knew the entire time that I was only talking to myself, but why admit such a thing?? Doesn’t it sound more exciting to hear I was having legitimate conversations with people of my own invention, rather than I was some loony nut that liked to hear myself talk? At least in this way, it was like I was getting answered back, instead of talking to the wall, and not receiving an answer at all.  It was either this, or be completely on my own.  I did not seek other people’s company at school.  They’d simply stare at me, like I spoke some alien language, and then make rude remarks behind my back, as I turned around to leave.  I just gave up trying to deal with people after 3rd grade, and instead invented Nami and Echo.  That day, walking into school though, was like trying to talk to all those students all over again.  
   Everywhere I walked, eyes analyzed me, and followed my footsteps. Voices whispered to each other behind hands, and snickered deviously.  I shoved the sense of endangerment down my throat with a big gulp, and kept on trucking it to my locker. Yet still, these cutthroats invaded my eyesight and ears, still staring and me and murmuring hideous things.  Giving up on my locker, I just launched my body into an empty classroom and pulled the door shut.  I thought maybe a talk with Nami or Echo might calm me down, as I collapsed into a chair.
   I had just begun to open my mouth, when three malicious looking girls walked into the room.  They didn’t notice me at first, and just guffawed and pulled out cigarettes and lighters from their purses.  They gossiped, and puffed those awful lung cancer causing, money wasting things, and I rolled my head over and fake-gagged. One of the girls, a brunette, tilted her head back and saw me.  Shrieking in surprise, they all jumped up, and huddled around me with venomous grins. I scooted back into my chair, and fell on the floor, trying to make a run for it.  The brunette, unfortunately, was too fast for me, and held my left wrist in a vice-grip.  
   “So…..” breathed one of the blond girls, tall and well built, but with a face like a monkey’s. “, I finally have the chance to talk to you! What a surprise, you came right to me, instead of me having me to hunt you down. You’re so considerate! Now let me do a little something for you!”
   The girl slapped me in the face, and then looked me in the eyes with murder written in them.
   “I know you told Mr. Pinnac what I was doin’ on Thursday, I have eye witnesses who saw you tell him.”
   “Yeah, “chimed the other blond girl, looking snooty with her hand placed precariously on her waist, puffing her cigarette like she was the queen of England or something. “I was one of ‘em.  I saw you tellin’ him about what happened. You should’ a been smart enough to know we’d weed you out.”
   “What on earth are you lunatics talking about?” I questioned. My voice was barely distinguishable, but rang with a fierce sense of injustice done unto it.
Each girl glared at me in turn, and monkey-face slapped me again.  They all crowded together and discussed with severity, taking half seconds to beam glares my way. Wasting five minutes, court of the creatures from old man’s swamp was adjourned, and they circled me again, the brunette rushing out of the room.
   Monkey-face looked me over, then spoke, “Yo, Goth girl, you like fire?”
I didn’t even have time to take a breath before the two hoisted me into a chair, rolled up my sleeve, and placed the snooty girl’s lit cigarette on my right forearm. I released a painful scream, and started shrieking for help.
   “Teacher!! Teacher!! Anybody please!! Nami!! Echo!! Help me!!!”, but no one came.
   Giggling with joy, the two girls pulled out their lighters, and lit my sleeves on fire. I screamed as the flames flew up my arms and to the rest of my body, igniting on my collar and setting the tips of my hair ablaze. The girls laughed even harder, and ran out the door, letting the brunette slide past to fling a bucket of water at me, and then lock the door.
   Sopping wet, I sobbed into the desk, ripping off the ashen remains of my sleeves. I had never told anyone of some incident, and had never spoken a word to those girls.  
   “Why me?” and spoke into the desk as a tear rolled down my face.  “What did I do to deserve this??”
   The bell sounding the beginning of first period went off, and I lifted my head up of the desk.
   “Those girls should go get hit by a car and go to hell.” I thought out loud.    
   Suddenly, a light bulb went off in my head. Why not make it so?? I smiled with a glorified expression as I strolled over to a window, unlocked it, and hopped out. Why not send them to hell right now? The entire time I was walking home, my smile grew larger with every step, as I planned their vacation to the hottest place you can go.

   After that, I can’t be all that sure what happened.  I remember seeing monkey-face’s expression of terror in death, and laughing hysterically to a joke Nami told me about how she probably crapped her pants in fright.  Hearing my laughter, neighbors saw my “mortal sin”, and called the police.
One week later, I was charged in court for the murder of Bridget Donahue, Eliza Conway, and Natalia Fadenholds.   My parents cried and my brother refused to look at me, as the jury decided that I was not right in the head and charged me with insanity, for my unhumanitary act of joy upon Bridget’s murder. After that, I was sent to the St. Brutus’s institute for mental rehabilitation. So, here I am now, staring at this azure wall, thinking about the incident, and what those girls did to me.  Those poor fools who think I’m the one insane for my act.  Well, I don’t think so.