I am an emotion. No, really I am. I was born an emotion, all of us here were. We tortured few can...control the emotions we were born with, and even influence each other if we want... But, that's kinda taboo, an ass thing to do. We can influence others in our own ways, humans, the "normal". Whether we're anger, apathy, love, excitement, depression. It's hell, trust me. It always ends up like hell. Our emotions may not affect us all the time, but what we can do to others, sure as hell does.
I don't understand people.
Wow, what a way to start right?
I don't understand people, and they don't understand me either. Hell, my own family doesn't understand me, they're afraid of me! I didn't mean to and they still don't believe me. My parents believe that their daughter tried to kill them and sent her away with some stranger, to be locked up most likely.
I'm tired of this cell and I want out!
I can't believe them! I thought at least my mother would understand that it was an accident, I was eight for god's sake! How...how could I have known that I would hurt them...
This cell is too tiny, even for a tiny teenager.
I want my mom...
"Scarborough?", a voice called me suddenly, shocking me from my sleep.
I looked up from my uncomfortable bench-made-bed to look at the guard at the open cell door. Groaned I answered, "Yes?"