ιηsαηιτγ {ρrινατε-hειsοη; mατυrε}

Heisen

Tick...............tock

Time......time was so slow. Every second that went by felt like a year, and every year in this personal little hell simply carried over to the eternity that it most certainly was. Since he was checked in at an early age, he had known his stay was intended to be indefinite. He'd never get out....he'd never be mentally stable enough for them to let go. Oh no.....no no no. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of that happening. To them, he was so far gone that he could never heal....he could never recover. Medications had yet to, and never would fix him. Fucking idiots. They were fucking idiots if they thought some fucking pill was ever going to fix him! His problem wasn't in his brain, it wasn't in the chemicals rushing hither and tither throughout his fucking head! It was farther! DEEPER inside of him then they seemed capable of understanding! Fucking doctors, fucking nurses, fucking people! They were all too ignorant to realize that what Adon's problem was did not exist in him physically or even mentally, it was all spiritual!

Oh, but they were never going to understand it. His problem was something that needed to be experienced to understand! Simply staring at the shell of a human being can only do so much for you! So perhaps they had plenty of reason to think he was crazy. Fits of anger, prone to violence, and certainly not one who disapproved of self mutilation. Had they not all been as dumb as they were, they might have realized how they were setting up into his traps.....they might have been able to prevent his almost killing himself. Oh? How did such a thing come about? Not a difficult matter to grasp. Adon had been in this shit-infested prison, or 'insititute' for years. Ever since he'd killed his parents. Just a child......just an innocent little boy, and yet he still managed to slit the bitch's throat, and stick the bastard in the belly. That set him up with a few labels immediately. Monster, sociopath, evil.....insane....troubled. One of those, one of those was true, and another was possible. Regardless of which was what, Adon had done what he had done. Though, he didnt do it because he wanted to, no no no...he loved his parents. He did it to survive. They intended to kill him! They had stuck him with a life insurance plan....his father's business was going under....and he killed them before they could kill him. He had heard it....heard their thoughts. They were going to do it! Those unbelievable fuckers were going to kill HIM!

Maybe when he killed them...he was paranoid...maybe it was all fake, maybe he really was insane. But, after that...after he killed them things changed. His hair lost its color....a side effect of the immense stress that had overcome him, and he heard more thoughts than ever before. He could hear them echoing through his head, screaming like they were right next to him. He knew what the doctors thought, he knew some of what everyone thought, despite just how jumbled what came to him was.

Sneering, Adon simply continued to do what he had been doing. Rocking back and forth murmuring things to himself.....murmuring anything he could catch...anything he could hear from the people near enough to catch's thoughts. That in mind, it was a horrible place for him to be....this institute. He hardly ever had time to himself anymore....because he could hear them...their thoughts...their cries. He could hear ALL of them....at once.....and it was driving him even crazier!

((Struggled to make a post....but I got one made and we can....decide on something, right? o.o...))

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"Dawn discovered her there
Beneath the cedar's stare
Silk dress torn,her raven hair
Flown to gown,her beauty bared
Was starred with frost,I knew her lost
I wept 'til tears crept back to prayer"
-Cradle of Filth: Her Ghost In The Fog

GothLoliKitty

I didn't feel the sting of pain as I bit into the flesh of the tip of my thumb. I didn't feel my hand slide across the concrete floor as my hand became the pen, my blood its ink. I didn't know that my eyes had glazed over, giving my grey orbs a cloudy white appearance. I didn't know this because I wasn't aware I was even moving. I wasn't aware that I'd gone into the trance in the first place. And when I blinked I was standing in the corner, hand dripping with blood.

Most of the walls and floor were covered in blood. My blood. The names of people to die written messily, their deaths beside them. I turned around, my knees collapsed, and I vomited. The scent of my own blood was overwhelming. The acid from my puke burned my throat. Then everything went black.

When I woke up, I was in a new room. I couldn't move my arms and panicked. What had they done to me?! I looked down, eyeing the straitjacket. Oh no. They couldn't do this to me! I'd go crazy! I didn't know when I went into trances. It usually happened about once a week. But what if my arms were still restrained? Would I bite my tongue off next? I screamed and threw my body against the metal door until a nurse opened it. "Please! Give me a notebook or something! just not this, not a straitjacket! Please..." I begged until tears sprung from behind my eyes. She sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

When she opened the door ten minutes later, I was huddled in the corner, shaking, my hair in my face. She pulled me to my feet and unlatched the jacket. I stretched my arms and pushed my black locks of hair from my face before she handed me a black book and pen. "That better be the only thing you put ink on, here me missy?" I knew she wasn't referring to the walls or floor, by myself. Mental patients who got ahold of pencils and pens usually punctured themselves. I hoped that wouldn't happen to me. I nodded. She left.

I wasn't always like this, crazy, I mean. I suppose I wouldn't exactly be called a mental patient either. Truly, I knew how people were going to die, but now the ability was taking over my life. Probably because I hadn't been able to save anyone. I was locked up in this godforsaken place for months now. If I had to pinpoint the exact moment when I starting "seeing" the future, it would've been about five months ago. I was in the passenger seat of my friend Emily's car....

We'd been driving to the movie theater to see whatever horror movie had just come out. I believe it was "Drag Me To Hell", or something along those lines. A car had swerved out of nowhere, striking the driver's side of the vehicle. I'll never forget the sound of breaking glass and crunching metal. I was knocked out, and received many major injuries. The doctors say I should've died. That it was a miracle that I was alive. Yeah, a miracle from the devil If you ask me. The first thing I saw when I awoke was a floating gray figure, moving past the end of my bed and disappeared through the door. I thought I was dreaming. Turns out a lot of deceased spirits wander the halls and rooms of hospitals. They have no clue where to go when they die unexpectedly.

I went to school for about two months after I was fully healed. The nurses and doctors said I should see a therapist; I'd been complaining about seeing the ghosts. They thought I was suffering from PDSD; Post Dramatic Stress Disorder. Either that, or something involving the word "trauma". Sure, they had good reason to think that. My best friend was dead and I was in a major car crash from which I shouldn't have survived. But I refused and my parents told me that I'd be fine for the time being; if anything strange occurred, I'd be sent to one immediately.

In school, things weren't easier. There were less spirits floating around, but I began to have flashes of gruesome images. Suicides. Crashes. Rape. Murder. The deaths of other students. And the angering part was that I couldn't tell when they'd happen, so it'd be pointless to warn the person. Plus, even if I had told them, who would believe me? I was already a social outcast as it was. I found that everytime I had a flash, I'd write their name down on whatever piece of paper I was taking notes on in class. And the first time I was writing a math equation on the board and I wrote "Gabby Rodriquez" I was sent to the school counceler.

I wrote names everywhere on my school assignments. Sometimes I'd mumble names under my breath when I was "seeing". And when my parents drove me to the Fogg's Institute, I knew what everyone thought of my ability. And when the bodyguards grabbed my arms and pulled me through the double doors to a cell, I screamed bloody murder - literally. It was as if my power understood that I could help nobody in a cell. I yelled people's names, ways they'd die. And my parents thought it was I that wanted to kill them that way. That I was insane.

I was not insane.

Just cursed.

[Hope that's alright for the beginning 8] ]

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Recent Movies: Up ; What Happens In Vegas ; The Road To El Dorado ; The Haunting In Connecticut ; Donnie Darko (yes, again xD)