I suppose I was never given time to be hurt...
When you're born to something, it doesn't seem like you're missing out. You don't know better. I didn't... But I knew I was missing something. Like some of the people without a religion say they were missing something before they were baptised or whatnot.
...
My parents were insane.
Don't believe me? Check their records. That's why I was born here. My mother was pregnant during her trial... The trial that confirmed whether or not she'd be sent to the asylum. She never told them she was with child... She never really cared. I think my father cared, though. He told me he loved me. She never did.
I look like him, in a way... Even, ash blonde hair, now streaked with brown and barely touching my shoulders, along with chocolate coloured eyes. I like how I look, I guess.
I grew up surrounded by medical intruments and straightjackets. Uncaring people and insane people. I grew up thinking I was insane, too. No one said otherwise. I was kept here because they barely noticed me.
Testing a person's sanity takes a long time. They all figured, 'If his parents are insane, he sure is!'.
...
I'm blind in my left eye... I always slept on my right side, with my left eye partially open. Ten hours of pitch black, followed immediately by harsh lights. Imagine waking up to that every morning for seventeen years. Waking up to a day where the only things you'd do were eat, think, and occasionally, take a shower.
...
There was this one man... He was supposed to be my medical doctor. He was nice to me. He had smooth brown hair, cut unevenly to hang down between his shoulderblades, and an eerie maroon eye colour. His name was Seio.
I didn't have a name before I met him...
He came to me when I was thirteen. He taught me how to walk properly, to speak properly, to do everything normal people do. I didn't think he believed I was insane. I didn't think he hated me.
I'm seventeen now. I still use the name he gave me. He told me I resemble a bird... A bird, caged up, too pretty to be kept in this wretched place. (Now I know he doesn't hate me.) I don't think I looked pretty, but I really would like to... For him I'll pretend.
He called me Dove. His Dove.
And I am. |
Submission Name: Asylum Boy
