.:.Keladryie.:.
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·Free In Her Own Insanity·
This story is fully © by me. This is another one I wrote for an English Exam in Year12 I think it was, (2004). I only have 40 minutes to write it, which is why it's so short, and well, not that good really. Although I did get an A** for it...then again, my class was fairly crappy. So much for being the top English Class in the school. It was appaling...(I should stop ranting ;D)
It's kind of strange, and twisted in a way, since I know who the characters are based on. Tell me if you like it, and what you think needs to be developed or fixed up about it. Thankyou.
A lone girl walks mechanically to a desk and manages to control her actions enough to press a single button. A male, maybe a year older then her, appears beside her, wheeling a computer chair, which he pushes lightly against her legs until she sits. She gets comfortable on the chair while the computer boots up, and he fidgets with her clothing. He tidies the shoulders of her shirt, making the buttons fall in a straight line down her front, gathers her long dark purple hair, streaks of red and orange mixed among the berry colour, to fall neatly down her back. She smiles up at him, and he returns the smile affectionately, ruffling her hair, only to tidy it again.
“C’mon kiddo, time to write the daily confession…” and by the way they both smirk, you know it’s an inside joke between them both.
It’s almost funny in a way when everything seems to go bad at once. You get good things in small quantities, and bad events, issues, things, all attack you at the same time, trying to drown you in a sea of depression.
Oh yes, amusing in a way.
It’s just small things usually. You receive a test result back from your teacher. You know you did badly, but to have evidence of it just makes it true, just gets you down, even if you were expecting it. You go to do the food shopping, and for some stupid reason they’re out of your favourite brand of bread, orange juice, chips and have no garlic butter left on the shelves, or strawberries, or bacon, so your meals are going to be boring for the next few days.
You ring a friend, who’s out with another friend, and for some reason you weren’t invited too. The guy you have a crush on barely looks at you all day, and when you get in your car you notice you’re nearly out of petrol, again, and it feels like only yesterday when you last filled up the tank.
Good things happen each day though, of course. No one can ever say nothing good ever happens to them. Even if it’s just nothing wrong happens at work, and it’s a peaceful afternoon, easy money so to speak. Maybe that you manage to make it through the traffic okay, getting home in time to watch Whose Line is it Anyway while you cook yourself dinner (even if it is without garlic bread…)
I’ve left that all behind though. Some people say ‘She’s finally given into her insanity,’ and some say ‘She just couldn’t take it anymore…’
Take what anymore? Life? Everyone has to struggle through it, why couldn’t I?
Well, I’m out here now. In a new place, where everything is new and sparkly, and everyone’s lost and pristine to this place. They call it a utopia. A whole city contained in itself. We could call a total lock-down, and have absolutely no contact with anyone out of this city and survive forever.
I’m jumping to every subject here, aren’t I? They said, write down everything that you think of. So here I am. Writing down my thoughts. A la la la…
I am 18, if it weren’t for photos I wouldn’t know my original hair colour, I dye it so much. I don’t have a job, ‘coz I’m a resident of the CSM Utopia, but if I did, I’d be a baker. I like making cakes and slices and cookies for everyone. That’s what keeps me happy, as well as being in the company of one of the workers here.
He’s nice. Our minds are exactly the same, ‘cept he’s got more control over his. We have the same interests in music, acting, books, and everything we’ve been though. He just stopped me from spinning around on my computer chair.
He says he’s gonna get me better again. I’m not really sick, I’ve just given up on staying sane he says. He’s watching over my shoulder as I write. He’s the only one I let close to my words, because they’re mine, they’re my thoughts, my soul. I can’t let just anyone see them, coz then they could rip me apart. And then I’d be broken. And I’d bleed and bleed and they’d come for me, they will-
“Maybe that’s enough for today Daire…” a soft murmur came from behind her. Her guardian. He may be a worker, her trainer almost, as she was like a caged animal, but they had something more then that. He was working there because he was like them, he was valuable in the fact he knew how their minds worked, and what the best way to deal with them was. He made sure to always be by Darie’s side for journal hour otherwise she’d never write anything down. She had a habit of repeating herself for at least half the entry everyday though. She was fascinated with where she came from, and each entry sounded as if it was her first there, detailing her age and describing the utopia and how she had left her old life behind. It was spooky in a way, and Ryan couldn’t understand why she did it, but she seemed happy enough, so he didn’t worry about it.
He looked after many of the people ‘enrolled’ in the utopia, but Daire was his special ‘patient’. They had real conversations. They actually did understand each other. There was no nice false smiles or unfeeling hugs between them. She was like a sister to him, and he, her saviour, except for the fact she had a plastic band around her wrist, and sometimes slipped into non-sensible, incomprehensible mutterings and dramatic spiels. The part he couldn’t handle was when she took to rocking back and forth, eyes closed as she hummed her own secret symphony to herself. She was usually tone deaf, and although had tried many times couldn’t learn the guitar, bass, piano, violin, nothing she tried could she accept into her mind. She was simply unmusical. Except for in her episodes of true madness. That’s when she created music so beautiful it was unearthly to listen to. She went from tone deaf to musical in one insane move. It was unnerving though, it was her pain and insanity she was singing and creating. Eerily beautiful.
When they happened, he wanted to leave CSM, go back to the past, and make those who turned her this way pay. It wasn’t fair. His past was so much like Darie’s, and yet she had turned out like this, and he was more or less fine. Sometimes he could almost see her old self shinning through, and knew just an extra reach would manage to grab her, and he knew he’d hold on tight, no matter how long he had to hold onto her for. He would be able to drag her back onto the side he was standing on, oh so surly.
But then she’d slip back, sometimes further away from when they’d started, as if caught in a rip in the ocean.
Daire hated water. Ever since that old bat of a ‘nurse’ had said her depression was like an ocean, threatening to drown her. She had been nearly drowned once, twice, three times, by bullies at school, thugs from the streets. Now she was terrified of water, she could only drink from a water bottle, because that way she couldn’t see what she was drinking. She was a right old case, but that only made Ryan love her more. She was there, so much like his past, and he could save her from it.
During his daydreaming Daire had risen from her chair, sliding away from where his hands had been resting on her shoulders lightly.
She fell into her hammock that was strung beside her favourite window that overlooked a cliff falling into the ocean and swung, a far away look in her eyes.
Ryan hadn’t noticed yet. His mind was still lost in a sea of memories, thoughts and facts of his young charge. They were almost the same age but most of the time she acted a lot younger. She couldn’t be trusted to made dinner herself, or do the chores. If someone watched her and kept her company, she excelled. That’s what bothered Ryan so much. She was so sane and…normal when she wanted to be.
That’s what the trouble was, Ryan knew she just didn’t want to be sane, and who would if it meant going back to a past like hers?
He remembered countless nights running into her room to her wails and cries that always came when there was a full moon, and the ocean almost right beneath them raged and crashed against the cliff face.
The ocean was her greatest evil, and he’s tried countless times to allow her to be relocated, but to no avail.
“She has to face her fears.” Was all they would say, and then the matter was closed.
Ryan still stood at the computer, not noticing as Daire fell out of her hammock and slid on the floor a few metres until she came to the wide roof-to-floor windows, no balcony on the other side anymore. There had once been one there of course, just weeks ago actually, and had been there for years, ever since the house had originally been built, but years of storms and ocean spray had weathered it to being rotten, and now had been taken away as firewood. The balcony was scheduled to be rebuilt in summer, six months away.
They now used the window to empty out the teapot leaves, and chuck dinner scraps for the seagulls and scrub hens to eat. It was usually left unlocked, and Daire knew it was off limits, and usually left it alone.
It was the window to her nightmares after all, to the sea labelled her depression that has a longing to drown her, and never let her body be found.
The old clock started chiming six, another thing that always set Daire off. She always knew exactly when it was six pm, a twisted psychological thing etched deep into her memory, which the specialists doubted she’d ever be free from. She had watched her boyfriend slaughtered by a bike gang on her 17th birthday, exactly at Six pm. This time of the week always haunted her, and even though she never kept track of the days, even if five minutes before six she didn’t know it was a Thursday, as soon as it clicked over…all hell broke loose in her mind.
Ryan looked around, in slight confusion. It was six. On a Thursday, and Daire was not to be heard.
A slight breeze danced through his gelled brown hair, drawing his eyes to the windows facing the ocean, instantly seeing the main one, Daire’s favourite of her hated, open slightly, the hammock beside it swaying gently in the wind as if it had never held weight in it at all in its lifetime.
“Daire no…” Ryan murmured, already by the window as he swung it open wide and looked down to confirm his worst fear of his own.
Daire’s crumpled form below, her back disjointed and her hands flying in the wind, lost in her own sign language only she understood, something he’d never comprehended.
Thinking only to be careful not to jump directly on her, Ryan jumped down from the window out of the split level home, landing beside her awkwardly, jarring his ankles and knees as he did so, but barely noticed, numb to the pain.
She was still alive, her breathing slow and struggled as her eyes focused on him, one eye twitching as she choked on her own blood, one of her ribs must have punched something.
“I’m flying…Ryany…I’m flying…” she manage to giggle as he fussed over her, mind scanning for what to do. There was nothing in the code book for ‘What to do when your charge jumps from a window and snaps bones everywhere…and coughs up blood…and is dying Jesus Christ she’s dying…
“You’re going to be fine DaireyDair…” he returned the use of their childish nicknames. “Absolutely fine…fantastic in fact…”
“I’m flying!” Daire squealed then curled over her own pain that was beginning to consume her.
“Fly BACK to me Daire…DaireyDair…fly back to me…” Ryan whispered, fumbling for his phone as he stroked her hair over and over as she curled over, withering, moving around so much she was suddenly leaning on him, in his lap, her blood smeared on his jeans.
“I’m flying over the evil…no more water…all gone…” she murmured, her voice in true ecstasy, something he’d never heard before. His hand fell from where it had been holding the phone to his ear, leaving the utopia operator talking to himself, having only the chance to say everything was wrong in Daires house and could they help…save her…Ryan could only look at her as his angel seemed finally free. Free in her own insanity.
Keladryie. Uploaded Jan//2005. Made for 1024x768.