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Nine years. That's how long I've been in this straight jacket. Overall I've been here for ten years, but it was only nine years ago that they put me in this straight jacket. And I wish I could say that my first year here went well. But my first year here is the reason I'm wrapped up. This was almost over-- almost. Today is supposedly my last day here.
I didn't do anything wrong. He, did something wrong. He, is the reason I'm here in the first place. Yet ten years later I knew He was still out there, still going to get me. I can picture the first few months here perfectly. When I thought he couldn't get me. Not in there. Not when I was released. But I realized that he could get me anywhere.
Four months had passed and I was okay, there weren't many problems. Just a few panic attacks and such, seeing your parents get murdered isn't something a six year old wants to see. And at first I just missed them, which caused excessive crying. I can still picture what happened, how my parents had told me to hide. How he had found me.
How I got to the asylum in the first place is a mystery to me though. Besides that my brother had been visiting me ever since I had been put in. Now something you might be wondering about, something that you should be wondering about. How did I get the straight jacket?
This story gets interesting. And after four months of what could be called peace here in the asylum, He came. The man who killed my parents came. Claiming to be my oldest brother. He had taunted me, telling me that when I got out he'd kill me too. And right before He left, He said "I'm watching you". Which ended in me drawing thousands of eyes, pinning them to my walls, and writing "I'm watching you" in red block letters.
Which lead to scratching, something I didn't mean to do. Not on purpose. Not to hurt myself. But knowing that he was inside my head. Knowing that he was watching me. I had scratched my arms to the point of scars. Thus being the reason I had been put in the straight jacket. This also lead to them thinking I had some self loathing issues. Which I don't.
But it's hard to get them to believe anything you say when you're a patient in an asylum. Somehow this place used to be some sort of reassurance but I should've known that it would end in more calamity. And when I realized that he had complete access to me in this hell, I stopped talking. Refusing to give my voice a chance.
"C'mon, it's time to go," A short brown haired woman came in.
I ignored her and stayed on the floor, not willing to move.
"We can do this the hard way too," She sighed.
She picked me up, stronger than she looked. Carefully she sat me up on the bed and started unlatching the chains and binds that held me in this torture device.
"You're brother is waiting for you," She started. "Your real brother."
She had been the only one who believed that when He came and claimed to be my brother, that he wasn't my brother.
"Now honey, I know it's hard, but you'll get used to it again. And he isn't going to find you. Your brother is sure of that." She reassured me.
Slowly I nodded, she helped me up and walked me out of the white-walled cell I had been in.
"She's been one of the better patients," A man in a white lab coat told my brother.
Even if it had been years since I talked, he gave me hope.
"Owen..?" My voice was small, delicate.
"Paige?" He looked at me, surprised.
"Owen.." I ran to him, hugging him tightly.
"That's the first time she's talked in nine years," The nurse said.
"I missed you, Paige." He smiled, hugging me tightly.
"I missed you too," I laughed, something so unfamiliar to me.
"I promise he won't get you," Owen looked at me seriously, tears welling in his eyes.
"But he will..." I started crying, holding onto his hands tightly.
"Not if I can protect you," He bent down to my height.
"He'll still get me," I hiccuped, tears running down my cheeks.
"You're going to be okay, we're going to be safe at Nirvana's house," He wiped my cheek.
"Okay.." I sighed shakily, trying to stay calm.
"Be safe, Paige." The nurse rubbed my shoulder and smiled nicely.
I nodded, breathing heavily, trying to stay calm.
"Thank you," Owen said to the nurse and took my hand.
"I don't want to see either of here again, okay?" She told us, being protective like a mother.
"Okay," Owen smiled slightly at her, crying from being happy.
He laced his fingers through mine and walked, pulling me down the blank halls.
"We're going to be safe..." He kept whispering, walking cautiously.
Owen had been in Europe when our parents were killed. When he came back he was confused and unsure, since I was recently admitted to the asylum we weren't allowed to see each other for very long. Especially with my panic attacks.
"What if he kills me?" I calmly thought aloud.
"Don't talk like that, Paige." He looked at me, deadly serious.
"But he could!" I protested, rising my panic level.
"No. I won't let him." His eyes flickered in between mine, looking for some sign that I understood.
"But he could kill you then kill me..." I whispered, scared at the idea.
"Now you're just giving him ideas." His eyes welled up with water.
"I'm sorry.." I whispered, not wanting to see him cry, not wanting to let Him see Owen cry.
Owen shook his head and regained his calm attitude.
"C'mon," Quickly he pulled me out of the hospital to the red pickup that was always parked in Nirvana's driveway.
As he looked around I climbed into the passenger side, not used to this environment I was in now. Owen fumbled into the car, very nervous, very shaky.
"I'll be fine." I put my still hand on his shaking one.
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