White
White walls. White floor. White ceiling. White sheets. White doors. One window. This was what my life consisted of. I barely left this room. I barely looked out the window. The only human contact I had was with the people in white. No normal people. They all spoke funny, like they thought their voices were soothing. Most refused to come near me, only a few dared coming 6ft from me. To be honest I had gotten used to it. I couldn’t blame them, I would do the same if I was in their position. I was dangerous after all.
You wouldn’t be able to tell from looking at me. Though I wouldn’t know, considering I hadn’t seen a mirror in years. Years. It was a strange thought, knowing that much time had passed without realising. Time didn’t mean anything in a place like this. It wasn’t important to my life anymore. Could you call something like this a life? I was now accustomed to this life you could say, even though it probably wouldn’t be deemed one. How can you call this a life when all I did was sit and think. Thinking was the most interesting pass time. A whole world can exist in your head, with any rules, any scenarios, and no bitterness between human kind. A perfect world.
A knock on my door made me turn my head. Ah, the usual medication. The woman who entered glanced around nervously, like I had hidden a trap somewhere to maim her. Seriously? What was I supposed to use? The chair which I was sitting on currently? I could tell she was new by the way she placed the water and pills gingerly on the table. I watched her carefully, not saying anything but examining.
It wasn’t until much later that I decided to take my tablets and enjoy the brilliant effects. The release I felt once I had taken them was something indescribable. I was able to forget everything and just lie peacefully, surrounded by nothing but that welcoming fog. Everything seemed unimportant when I was under their effects. Nothing mattered. They made me believe in what everyone had been telling me for years. Maybe they were right. I probably was dangerous. Before any emotion could kick in, the tablets smothered it. Wonderful, pure bliss engulfed me and enabled me to finally sleep.
Brighton
Rain streaked down the car window, disrupting the view of the angry sea, crashing against the sea walls, some spray managing to make it’s way over the railings. Very few people were out on the seafront, but those brave enough to face the typical Brighton weather were wrapped up in more layers than I probably owned. I watched them battle the gale force winds in apprehension. I hadn’t been joking about the layers. The sunny shores of Malaga never offered such extreme weather conditions, and so I had seen no point of owning anything more substantial than my comfy jumpers and one jacket currently tucked away in storage waiting for winter to arrive. I wished I had thought to bring it now as I saw a particularly old woman loose her umbrella to the hurricane outside. No where on the website had it mentioned that the school came with weather conditions more likely to be found in hurricane season on the East Coast of America. Had I known that before hand, I would have been less inclined to accept the offer.
Cold
The silence was louder than any noise could be. The girl in the corner glanced around at the dark room. Coldness surrounded her, as well as the harsh stone walls that made up her prison like vicinity. The damp floor and walls had become the usual for Tabitha. She shifted slightly to press herself against the corner more and felt the shooting pain go through her arm and shoulder. Dislocated. Again. She didn’t utter a cry though incase that brought him down again. Tabitha had got used to she had received all her life. In fact these days she barely fought against it. She had learnt that there was no point; he would always win.
She jumped when she heard footsteps coming down the stone steps outside her basement room. She cowered more into the corner as if to hide from the inevitable. When the door creaked open she didn’t in fact see the looming face of the person she hated most in the world. Instead, she saw the pale face of her mother entering the room. “Mum?” Tabitha whispered, her voice breaking from lack of use. Her mother just whimpered and shuffled into the room, closing the door behind her. “What did he do this time?” Her mother came over and sat down next to Tabitha and leant her head on her shoulder while supporting her arm which was covered in bruises.
“I refused to get him another drink,” she whispered in a defeated voice. Tabitha stroked her hair as they sat there. She remembered when her mother used to be such a happy lady; always smiling, always socialising. The only reason Tabitha stayed in this hell hole was for her mother.
Roedean
The cold winter wind whipped around the cloisters, damaging the neatly potted flowers and well trimmed hedges. The rain left streak marks on the well worn yellow walls of the chapel, and could be heard splashing into the ornate fountain. The perfectly cut grass, undamaged by children’s feet, looked dreary and lifeless in the storm. Lyra sat in her usual hidden place, watching the typical Brighton weather through the dust covered window do it’s worst. She often found herself tucked away in the secret stairway up to the back of the chapel to get away from the busy school and persistent students. Very few knew about it, and of them Lyra was pretty sure she was the only one to visit it regularly. Soon though there would be no one to sit on the cold stone steps and watch through the little window as people got on with their lives and the sun slowly set, casting long shadows across the old architecture.
