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Insert Antisocial Personality Here ( Aconitum )

"Why'd she do it?"

"Why? Well it's normal for people with this disorder to attempt such an act."


Oh don't be so coy Doctor H. just say what I did, she saw it didn't she? Saw the hole in her 'daughters' chest, didn't she? I could've sworn she saw the way the red bloomed like summer over the black of my top, almost wouldn't have seen the blood if my skin hadn't been so pale, right?
She saw the look in my brothers eyes as he held me close to his torso as if the world had completely fallen apart from his head and he would go mad if I had died, if I completed what I set out to do.

"I'm sure it's just a phase, she does stupid things like that all the time."

"A phase? Mrs. Franko you're daughter shot herself in the chest with intent to die because she has a mental disorder and with what I've seen today, I'm sure there are other reasonings behind this has well."

"Are you saying we may have caused her to kill herself?"

"I never said that."


I knew that he smiled when he said that because what she said just proved his sarcastic remark with 100% undeniable proof that I was unloved, so he has to take me home now, I get a new home and Thomas can come with me and we can live out the rest of our lives together?
No, wrong, I get to live in a mad house for a few weeks, how thrilling to see the girl sitting next to me with her blonde hair up in a ponytail and her staring, paranoid brown eyes telling me 'don't take the pills'.
The pills dry, down they went, what century was I in? It seemed I was an ophelia and I was meant to be stared at, when I tried to swallow the unswallowable meat(?), by the male orderly.
A man once stared at me like that when I was four, my earliest memory, when he forced a hand up my frills and laces, tearsing down my stockings but I was too quick for him and so I ran, ran to Thomas and told him what happened, that man never laid a hand on me again nor did he try.

"...Violent behavior, antisocial personality disorder, manic depressive state, hallu-"

The door was closed when they saw me peering inside listening to big words that I didn't really know where big words at the time.
Doctor H. was a nice guy, not a good looking man but nice all in all, short forehead, broad shoulders and deep brown eyes, sandy blonde hair that fell over the pointed nose above his thin lips. His hands I remember most because they never touched me unless to check my arms for newly bedded cuts and gashes, new bleeding hearts upon my wrists.
Another inmate, a brute girl, with dark hair and a stern mouth, hated me so very much she decided to thrust my body into the wall so my already irregular heartbeart, due to the bullet almost entering it, faltered and I fell in short breathes though knowing me I never passed up a fight and so I fought back.

"Fucking sociopaths..."

The orderly mumbled when he threw me into my room and locked the door, where was Doctor H.? I wanted his bold hands to check my wrists because I never knew when the old ones faded and the new ones became apparent.
I am no sociopath, am I?

Snap//fault//obey//mass suicide//

Brick is glowing again,
where's my medication?
I need my white pill.
I need my white.
I need my.
I need.
I.

//Intiate oral stimulation here//

"Thought you were the prettiest one here."

Fuck males. Fuck people. God gave me teeth to bite down with. I didn't have any 'anitsocial' problems, I wasn't a 'sociapath'.

No, I didn't have those disorders. Not until I left. Thank you.

( Insert Antisocial Personality Here )
Written by EmmaFranko (Avena Sativa)
Published
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