Anyone who knew Mitchell Leewin couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He always had such an active imagination, claiming he saw things when nothing was there, hearing voices when only the wind was making noise. Days came and went. Endless ridicule haunting MItchell from dawn to dusk. Is it any wonder he eventually gave into the voices...?
It was 15 minutes until the final bell rung, indicating the end of schoolfor the day, when Mitchell heard that voice.
"You know I'm really here, Mitchell. You know I'm not just your imagination, and you know you're not crazy." The voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard in Mitchell's ears.
He tried to drown it out by listening to the teacher, but it was absolutely no good. Soon he had his hands clamped around his ears with his head on his desk, struggling for peace. A pained moan escaped his lips and everyone's eyes became glued to him. Even the teacher pulled her focus away from her lesson (which she didn't look happy about) to see what was going on.
By the troubled expression she wore, she definetly figured out that there was, in face, a problem. "Mitchell, are you-"
"No!" screamed Mitchell. He hopped to his feet and raced out of the classroom, not caring that he plowed a girl on his way out and would, no doubt, get a detention.
He ran down to the school's gym washroom and hid in a stall in the girl's room - just for good measure.
Mitchell was unaware of passing time because of how tight he pressed his hands to his ears. He didn't hear the bell ring, he didn't hear the principal's announcements or the panic he'd created when he'd fled the classroom. His mind seemed to be melting through his skull when he let out a wild, uncontrollable shriek that echoed through the now empty halls.
Mitchell kicked the stall door open, blood pounding in his ears, and ran around in large circles until...
Silence. Mitchell couldn't hear anything. Not his footsteps, not his screams, not even his breathing. He was about to pass out when the voice broke the eerie silence.
"Just give up, Mitchell. You know you can't go on like this."
The scary thing was, Mitchell did know. "Just leave me alone! Please!" Mitchell desperatly pleaded.
Then he ran. No where in particular, just away. His vision blurred from the tears that terror had caused.
Suddenly, he was crashing, hearing a sickening snap, the strong, unmistakable scent of blood burned his nose. Then nothing.
His body was found the next day the next morning at the bottom of the stairs, a pool of blood surrounding him. He'd broken his neck and bled to death.
Most parents say having imagination is great...but too much of it can eventually kill you.