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Welcome to Your Personal Hell.

Welcome to Your Personal Hell.

By ebur

"Yes, she really won't even talk anymore," I heard her whisper into the phone.

I sat down in the corner watching her through my bag-ridden eyes. I could feel her aura turn stiff as if she felt me staring at her. She took a quick glance at me to reassure herself and then quickly turn back to stare at the table as soon as she caught my eye. Pathetic.

"I know, but please, can I just bring her in?"

I saw relief flood my... mother's eyes when she heard a response. She replied back with a simple yet emotional thank you. It came out with a sigh and a slight smile that I caught. Her once pale and sleepless face for that quick second looked normal, but turned back when she put down the phone and glanced at me.

I kept sitting there looking at her, but I knew what she wanted me to do. I got up and went to my room. It's a pretty big room. Considering the normal standards. Let's just say... my mother is on the rich side. But I don't go around shouting it out. I don't want to. In fact, I'm pretty ashamed of it. Because she's not the one who should be living like she's in Las Vegas everyday. She should be in hell, where she could rot and boil.

Stepping into my room, I noticed how much of a mess I had let it become. It doesn't really matter anymore. I go into the back of my closet and threw around my stack of clothes until my hand fell in place upon a handle for a suitcase. Essentials.

I surveyed my room, scanning it and walked around picking up what I needed. I grabbed some of my clothes, skinny jeans, shirts, and tops. I looked down at my shoes that I was wearing and decided I'd only need those. It's not like I'd even be allowed to wear these anyways. Probably have to wear some of those hospital slippers when I get there. I went into my bathroom and stuffed my toothbrush and the basics into my bag. It's not like I needed much. I decided that was enough.

I pulled out the handle of the suitcase farther out so I could start rolling it and tugged it towards the door of my room. I put my hand on the cold surface of the doorknob and felt a quick sting of pain. I must have accidentaly cut the tips of my fingers too. I turned my hand around and saw a slight dark red line across the palm of my hand instead. I stared at it for a second. Then I opened the door all the way and walked out. I was about to close the door behind me, but took one last look at my room.

How could I forget? I left my suitcase standing in the hallway and enterned my room once more. My father's picture in our frame. I picked it up and stared at it. I saw the curves of his face gave him a stern but caring look. And his eyes... his eyes looked so gentle. He was holding me in his arms, I was only 4 at the time. I saw myself looking up at him, adoring him and hugging him in the picture. If only I could do that once more... I found myself tracing the outline of his face from the picture frame, then I carried it out of the room with me and place it in the front of all my clutter in the suitcase.

The suitcase felt as if it gained weight each time I dragged it down each step of the stairs. My arms grew fragile, and I let go of the handle unintentionally and it went flying down the stairs. My mother came to investigate, and saw that the suitcase was right at her feet.

"Be careful around these stairs! You'll damage them if you do that again!" Oh, sorry stairs. I didn't mean to hurt you. I mean, after all, you are more of a child to her than I am. I caressed the stair railings while I was talking to it in my mind.

"Sorry," I said in an even-toned voice, but definitely to that point where she knew I was most definitely not sorry.

She drew her hand down the middle of her hair to pull it back and let out a deep sigh, as if she was stressed out enough already.

"Oh, don't worry, you won't have to deal with me much longer. I mean, I don't know why you seemed so stressed. It's not like you did much to take care of me anyw-" I was cut off.

"Please, just shut up. Everyone one is nice there and they are going to help you." Lie. Lie like you always do.

I continued to talk back to her as we walked outside to the car, "Help me? Have you ever seen anyone come out of there that has changed that much? Besides, I wouldn't be in this situation if you just told me what happend to dad! All I ever hear are fucking lies!"

"Watch your mouth Raine." I threw the suitcase into the back seats and jumped up into the stupid expensive car.

I started to mumble to the point where she couldn't hear me well, "Surprised you actually cared about that."

"What?" she asked me, but continued to look straight out the window of the car as she started to turn the car on.

"I didn't say anything."

She must have given up because I didn't hear a response. Maybe it's because she's relieved and happy. Happy I'm going away. Happy I won't ask once more about what happend. Happy she doesn't have to lie anymore. Because she knows she's not good at it.

Happy I won't give her more antagonizing looks when she comes home with a whole shitload of stuff she buys with dad's life insurance money. Happy, happy, happy. Maybe I'll be too when I don't have to face her anymore.

I place my hand on the door handle and opened it as soon as we pulled into the treatment facility parking lot. I walked to the back and pulled the suitcase out from the seats and immediately walked to their front doors. She was walking slowly behind me, keeping her distance as if I was a disease. I opened the door slowly and walked in. Not bothering the keep the door open for her, I entered further and further and heard her push against the door as if it was a big boulder.

As I stopped in my place, I saw 4 people who looked the same age as me line up in a horizontal line with an adult, whom I guessed to be the supervisor, at their side. Oh joy, a welcoming committee. They might as well just come up and say welcome to hell.

"Hello Raine, we've heard much about you already. We welcome you here, I know you'll enjoy it and remember, we are here to help you," the supervisor's eyes traced the long line of my arms and saw my cut scars that I hadn't bothered to cover. Is he a machine, did he rehearse that phrase? I'm not stupid.

Apparently, each one of the kids had to welcome me. The first kid talked to me without looking me in the eyes, "Hello, enjoy your stay here," It looked forced. Oh yeah, because I know you are...

The second kid walked slightly forward and stated, "I'm Anthony, umm, it's kind of fun here if you let it be. Just hope you get accustomed to it." He was scratching his head as if he was unsure of what to do and stepped back into his place. Oh my gosh, that was the worst lie I've ever heard. I looked at him like he was stupid and he quickly placed his eyes on a flower pot beside me.

The third kid just said a simple hi and welcome and looked all around the room, searching for distractions. Like she really did not want to be here. The fouth guy stood in his place and looked straight into my eyes. "Hello. And welcome to your personal hell. It's not as great as the others mention. Just trying to give it to you straight." I continued to look at him and started to smile. That has got to be the best thing I've heard in a long time.

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About This Story
30 Nov, 2009
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7 mins
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