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Since I've been able to speak I've practically called the mental institution home. They tried to pass what was wrong with me off as childhood schizophrenia, but there was one problem, I never tried to hurt anyone or myself. I had complete control of my body and surroundings, but I could see them and no one else could.
They weren't just hallucinations either. I could feel them if they ever came close enough. They made things, more often people, move. It made no difference to the person that was moving.
As far as they could tell, there was nothing wrong with my brain, until they gave me medicine that is, but even after that, it didn't do enough damage to cause me any major problems. They didn't keep me on meds long, mostly because my parents disapproved, but it didn't help anyway. They were still there.
After sixteen years I guess they've given up. I'm not a threat to anyone, I'm only terrified a good deal of the time, so out into the world I go.
With the amount of them that are out here, I'd almost considered not leaving…almost.
The day I walked out of the institution, I signed up for classes online to the local school. Just two. Introduction to Psychology and History of Theology.
I was going to find out what they couldn't or wouldn't tell me.
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