I got to this point with the help, or lack of, from the government. I can tell myself that I’m not to blame; that I’m not part of the problem, but I am.
I told the truth. And I can brainwash myself into believing that I’m never going to trust another living soul, again. But with the way my life is, my declariation would be pointless.
I’ll have an in-house therapist, anyways. By law, I’m required to confide in him about my past, present, and possible future.
All this is taking place at my new placement. With my new family. I’m expected to rip my heart and guts out to put on display. Every tiny, little detail. My life with my mother. After her. The psych ward. All the gory details.
I’ve done this before. I ripped open my body, took out my insides, and lined them up for everybody to see. They’ll brush me off like everybody before them.
I was called weird as a kid, and as I grew older, I was called crazy. And now, at sixteen, I’m clinically insane.
I don’t want to play this game. The game where I always lose, and everybody else wins. But I have no family, no reputation, and no dignity. All I have are my truths.
Even with my mind made up, the anxiety and anticipation sit like a pile of rocks at the pit of my stomach. I’m sure I’ll be thrown back in the hospital once I hit base on everything. I may even be stuck in isolation for the rest of my days.
But even with all that could lie in my path, I want to tell them my journey. It’s not pretty. There’s no savior.
As I stand in front of these people whom I know are staring down their nose at me, and judging me for a lie, I know that it is time.
This will be the last time I’ll be able to have an audience. My last performance; if you will. Even if they think I’m crazy, at least people will be listening. If they listen closely, they’ll be able to find the deeper meaning of my truths.
Two bodies.
One, of a woman that has been dead for ten years.
The other, is mine.
The is my story. The story of Freya Hestner. I help solve the mystery of my own death. But don’t worry. The dead don’t stay buried for long. They never do.
ns 15.158.61.7da2
