They glanced at each other.
“We have listened to you, Sara, but
your story about angels attacking you is ridiculous. We’ve decided that for the
time being you should stop writing. It’s clearly having an effect on your
behaviour and mental health, so maybe taking a break would be a good idea, just
until you’ve seen someone and these ‘angel’ issues of yours have been cleared
Dad said, also staring past me.
“We’ve decided, we’ve decided, that’s
all you say to me anymore! “We’ve decided to move, we’ve decided you shouldn’t
write, we’ve decided to make you see a counsellor, we’ve decided you’re insane”
when will you stop deciding and give me a say in anything?”
I shrieked, probably not helping
myself to look any less crazy.
“Sara, don’t raise your voice with
us. If we decide something, it’s final.”
Mom was sounding very stern, raising
her own voice a little.
“And what, I just fall in with
whatever stupid decision you make?”
I yelled, refusing to calm down. I
was sick and tired of not being believed, being labelled as mentally unstable
and being expected to go along with whatever adults decided was best.
“Just get out!”
I screamed again.
They looked almost scared as they
walked out of the room. I think they were alarmed at my screaming fits because
I’ve always been a quiet child. I spend almost all my time locked up in my room
alone, not for punishment, but because that’s how I like to be. Alone. I am a
total loner, at school, at home and in public. probably because I spend so much
time by myself that I forget how to behave around other people. I easily drift
off into a daydream during conversations, whenever anybody bothers to talk to
me. I’m the girl who’s parents are always lecturing her on finding more
friends, texting more people, hanging out with huge gangs of giggling pink
creatures (i.e the typical teenage girl) at the weekends. That’s not me.