A shudder of sheer terror washed over me at the thought.-You see? said Nat beside me, in amazement. I'm not the only one who thinks so!But I continued to stare at the brown-eyed young man.-What do you know? I countered, and was aware that my tone was unfriendly."I study psychology, I'm good at analyzing people," he said matter-of-factly, and shrugged."I don't think you look good as a psychologist," Nat said.—With a shirt, anyone can hide tattoos, little one. He smiled at himself, reaching an arm out for her. Tyler Bartley.—Nat. —A wide smile took over my friend's face as they shook hands with her.When he did the same towards me, I could see the word "Hope" written letter by letter on his fingers."Amy," I murmured back."So what is it, Amy?" Are you a member of some terrorist group or something?He and Nat laughed, but then the boy served other people who arrived. I noticed that he treated the rest of the customers in the same pleasant and friendly way, and I soon understood t
"It's a mental thing," my mother said, without taking her eyes off the road. I can never pronounce the name right. She starts with Esq-q … And I lose it. Ski…I opened my eyes to the extent.-Schizophrenia?-That! As if she had just realized that it was something serious, her expression turned uneasy."But, Mom! The girl doesn't need a friend." She needs a psychiatrist! I exclaimed. What the hell could I help you with?"Your tone…" she warned me and I sighed, running my hands over my face, shaken. She is undergoing treatment. Joane is looking at the possibility of having her admitted to a mental institution, but I want to see if this helps her. Don't be like that, Amy. —Her severe voice of hers let me know that she had not liked my attitude, and she understood it, but how was my visit going to help her?What Claire needed was a doctor, a specialist. She was not a girl she barely had any memories of, and that she possibly didn't even like.My mother parked across the street from Joane
"I-I'm Amy," I mumbled."Amy?" She—she frowned more. Which Amy?So then I fallen in reason. That's why her face wasn't entirely familiar to me yet. The Claire of my memories wore glasses, just like the ones she had on the nightstand next to her bed.I approached the furniture, taking the glasses and depositing the bag that I had on top, to be more comfortable."Don't come near me!" she exclaimed desperately. Do not touch me!“I'll just put the glasses on so you can see me, Claire.She seemed to relax. It was evident that the girl was very serious. A pang of pity went through me.I slid the glasses down her face carefully, and her brown eyes widened beneath the square lenses.He frowned. Acknowledgment quickly streaked his bruised features."A-Amy Masters?" Her,” she inquired, and I nodded with a half smile. Wow...you haven't changed a bit.I cleared my throat, like I had a lump in it."Do I still look like a six?"A hint of laughter escaped her lips, but she coughed and couldn't go on
-Who are you? she inquired.His head was still languid, but now he was staring at me.I took a breath, more relaxed knowing that he was fine. Schizophrenic, but alive, at least.She had no idea how often this happened to her, or how to react. But still, I tried my best to do my best and answer him patiently.“I-I'm Amy Masters,” I murmured. You know me, Claire, we used to play together when we were kids.She looked at me from head to toe, slowly walking the length of my body. The extensive scrutiny of her made me feel uncomfortable, and I hugged myself.“Go away,” he spat, and I frowned.Apparently, he had adopted a hostile attitude now. What was this? Multiple personalities?“I want to help you, Claire. I reminded myself to be tactful. I am your friend.-You are? He cocked his head.-Of course.I smiled at her and she returned the gesture."Then could you untie me?""Oh, sorry…" I made a face. Can't."Just for a while," she begged, making an exaggerated pout. Look how these people ha
-What do you want?His smile widened.“Well, I was planning to make this bitch rot in hell. But now that I see you…” He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Right now, all I want is to devour that invisible soul of yours that smells so... delicious .His lips drew back and I jerked free of his grasp, stumbling.The danger made my brain react, and I looked at my bag that was resting on the nightstand.I barely reached it with my fingertips, but then she crouched on the bed and lunged at me, causing me to drop her to the floor. My back slammed into the carpet and a groan of pain escaped me. She put both arms to the sides of my head and I struggled to push her away from me, but somehow she seemed to have more strength than her slender body made out. Her glasses fell on top of me, and I covered my face with my arm.At that moment, I felt how he mercilessly sank his teeth into my forearm.I screamed at the excruciating pain and tried to use my legs to hit him with whatever blow I
Why was everything happening so fast? It couldn't be a coincidence. The fact that every single supernatural event that had come into my life these last few weeks happened almost at the same time, it couldn't just be random, could it?What had changed? Why was my soul suddenly attracting demons? Why, overnight, couldn't those damn creatures have access to my mind like they could the rest of the people? Why had he never had contact with that world until now?Why did this have to happen to me?I hissed as my father tightened the bandage a little tighter on the wound on my arm. I watched as he glared at Mom for the hundredth time, and she sniffled."Enough," I asked him in a whisper. It wasn't his fault."What wasn't?" she accused under her breath.“Frank…” Mom whispered."That girl is sick !" he called in her direction. And you left my daughter alone with that lunatic!She tensed her lips, which trembled again from wanting to hold back her tears."It wasn't Mom's fault," I mumbled, tryin
"Stop," I mumbled, shaking my head. Let's forget it, okay? I'm fine.Well traumatized , a voice murmured in my mind.My mother sighed, grimaced, and nodded without any trace of that joy that I used to see in her every day."Good night," he said, stroking my head.Realizing that I wouldn't be able to lift her spirits, at least not for now, I left and headed to my room. I bolted the door to make sure no one entered unexpectedly… and I stayed like that, with my back against the wood. I wasn't sure how much time passed, but there, without my parents or anyone from whom I had to hide what I really felt, which was not a simple fear of being attacked by a misdiagnosed girl, I began to cry.Hot tears slid down my face, and contrary to what I was used to, I didn't stop them. I allowed myself to cry like a terrified child, because if she didn't, she would drive me crazy. I cried because my arm hurt, and also because of the deep fear of having been attacked. Because my reality had been destroyed
And I was going to do it.~*~*~*~"No," my father sentenced, returning his attention to the tablet in his hands to continue reading after my interruption."Can I at least know why?""Should I remind you?" Her," she inquired surly, raising her eyebrows. You should be grounded, Amy. And don't think I can't forbid you to go out. You may be very old, but I am your father.I wanted to reply to that, but I decided that it was better to go the quiet way."But... now I'm going to go see a friend," I lied. My tone trembled, but I hoped he wouldn't notice it was because of the trick, but because of the reprimand."And that friend isn't Diana?""No, it's not," I replied with a slight annoyance. I'm in a fight with Diana. I want to go see Nat."And where do you know this Nat from?"“I met her at work. Out of desperation I added, "Anthony has already seen her."Anthony, who was sprawled on the couch frantically moving his fingers over his cell phone, flinched and froze for a second. My father's ey