Victoria's Butterfly-Chapter 1

Victoria looked out of her window, down onto a wet football field.

There you have it. I have started narrating my own life again. Furthermore, I have gotten worse at it! A better way to go about it would have been 'Victoria gazed out of her frosted window, looking down upon a damp football field' or 'Victoria inspected the damp football field outside her foggy window.'
But no, i had to go with 'Victoria looked out of her window, down onto a wet football field.'

Aunt Millicent would say this was an improvement in my mental health, but i'd say it's me getting dumber.

Anyway, the reason i am looking down at the damp football field because i am hoping that he'll be out there. Who 'he' is exactly, i am not sure, however i DO know that he has great form. His tan muscular body ripples in the sun as he sprints down the yard, flipping his hair back. GOD it gives me the heeby jeebies! It also makes me wonder why someone so perfect can be a mental patient? Then i look at myself and realise that a person doesn't choose the illness, the illness chooses them.
And guess who's the chosen one? None other than yours truly...
However, i am happy to be 'ill' ... it's better than facing most of the horrors in the world. My mind is my haven, and who is aunt Millicent to tell me that i think wrong?
If i were to tell aunt Millicent that, she would blow her top! The thing is, aunt Millicent is NOT my aunt. She just insists that we all call her 'aunt'. I suppose it's her way of trying to level with us, she's trying to get on the same page as us. It just makes her look like a try hard, which naturally makes us hate her. For a counseller, she sure needs a lot of help herself! She has low self esteem... I'd feel sorry for her if she was a more empathetic woman, but alas, i cannot empathise or sympathise with a woman who lacks such an important quality.

I sat up as i saw a figure outside my window. A wave of disappointment washed threw me as i realised it was the gardener. "Hey groundskeeper Willie!" I yelled down to him him. Of course that isn't his real name, the nickname originated when Charlie came to town. And by 'town' i mean the mental hospital that we all call home.
You see, Charlie thinks he is inside one gigantic, life-long episode of 'The Simpsons', and he gives people in his life names from the show. He of course is Bart, so you can imagine what kind of shit he gets up to. Of course the gardener is 'groundskeeper Willie' I myself am Milhouse. Which is ludicrous considering I HAVE A VAGINA. He can't seem to fathom this though, so i leave him to his fantasy. This of course means that he drags me along to all his trouble making shenanigans. I love it of course. It pisses aunt Millicent off.

A glance at the clock reveals the time. 6.57am. Breakfast time!
As i reached the dining room doors, i scanned the tables, looking for my usual posse. Although, as usual i was the first one there. One of the bad things about being an insomniac. I didn't have to wait long before i was joined by Taz. Taz was the strongest person i had ever met. He always kept me in line, making sure i kept my head. He was, as cheesy as it sounds, my rock. He was also openly gay. i had never met someone so comfortable with his sexuality as much as Taz was with his. I admired him for this; in a world so prejudiced, he was able to stand up and beam out his true colours. "vickie." He nodded.
"Morning." I responded.
Taz moved his blonde hair to reveal his mud coloured eyes.
"What's for breakfast?"
"Food"
"Oh that's a change!"
We got up and went to the canteen to get our breakfast.
Two minutes later, while munching down on vegemite toast and coco pops, we were joined by our other friends, Billie and Hodge. Now i don't know much about Billie and Hodge. They don't talk much, and when they do, their heads are together and they speak in such low soundwaves that no one can hear them. In fact i don't think they talk at all, i think they just read each other's lips. The only real communication is if you ask one of them a question. Billie always answers, however she avoids eye contact at all costs. One night as i was walking the school yard at midnight (I always sneak out, every night i go for walks because i can't sleep) i stumbled across the two in the middle of the field, stark naked, going at it like rabbits. It was rather...graphic.
"Any sign of Fred?" I asked no one in particaular.
Now Fred was a basket case if i ever did see one! His name is not actually Fred, in fact no one knows his real name. He tells us that his name has a tab on it, and if it is used, 'they' will come and get him. I havn't exactly found out who 'they' are yet, but i am working on it. He also sleeps until about 5pm, even though he goes to bed at around 9pm. One time i walked into his room in the early morning, before the sun come up, to find him with a pillow stuffed up his top. He was caressing it and swaying and humming. I backed out slowly. Unfortunately for me the door clicked, and there were sreeches of 'YOU WILL NOT GET MY BABY!" As i tore down the hallway. Apparently he had hurled the urn that held the ashes of his grandfather, because before i could turn the corner something hard hit the back of my head. I was thrown to the ground and landed amidst a pile of ashes and porcelin.
I quickly got up and continued running and didn't stop until i got to my room.
You're probably wondering why I am here? Wel i'd tell you if i could, but as it happens i do not know why i have a mental disorder. At times i almost feel normal...but when i crack i am like an atom bomb. Apparently. I never remember these things. My counsellors of course know why i am in here, but they refuse to tell me. I have to remember on my own, it's all apart of the 'recovery plan'. rather ridiculous considering i can only remember as far back as my second week in here. I woke up in restraints, in a padded white room. There was a raw, bald patch on my head where i had pulled out my hair. I remember yelling out 'help!' and then being startled by two big men opening the door and cautiously approaching me.
"I'm in a madhouse." They stopped in their tracks at my statement.
"We prefer the term mental hospital." The men parted to reveal a third man. He smiled down at me. "I am doctor Niko Draven, i'm your doctor."
At this i gave him a befuddled look. "I'm not mad."
"Currently you are sane. However at the slightest provocation you snap. You're not 'you' when you snap, you're a whole different person."
Put yourself in my shoes. You've just found out that you're a crazy person in a nuthouse. Naturally you'd get angry, right?"
"I'M NOT MAD!"
His eyes searched mine. I tried to send vibes to him, telling him not to mess with me, because i was NOT mad!
"Do you remember your name?"
I opened my mouth to reply, however nothing was there.
Of course i know my name! Of course i do!
He sighed. "You will remember, in due time."
"What, so you're not even going to tell me my own name?"
"It's all apart of the recovery plan. You have to learn all of this in your own time..."
"BULLSHIT! How do i know that you're not some whackjob pedo trying to take advantage of me!? How do i know that you have not kidnapped me and brainwashed me?"
He took all this in stride. "You don't. However you do not have much choice. We will give you room to move, if you show us you're ready. I'm sure those things are annoying?"
i looked down at my restraints. "Why am i in this fucking thing anyway?"
"I'd prefer you didn't swear."
"Tough."
"Think about what i just said. We will give you room to move if you show us you're ready. Right now you are showing us that you need to stay in those restraints."
"Why, because i am fucking angry that i don't know who, or where the fuck i am?"
"Again, i'd prefer it if you didn't swear..."
"I HAVE A RIGHT TO BE FUCKING ANGRY!"
"Of course you do. Of course. However there are ways of letting off steam. We have ways here, we have self defence lessons, art lessons, music lessons, whatever your heart desires. However i do NOT like it when my patients go around swearing and acting violent."
"I'm not violent..."
He lifted up his top, and underneath was a bandage which he proceeded to unwrap. He then revealed his torso, which was bruised with an array of colours, ranging from black and purple to orange and yellow.
"um..."
"I, unfortunatly, was at the recieving end of one of your kicks. You kick hard."
"...i..uh."
He let his top fall over his torso and started rolling the bandage up.
I lowered my gaze as fat tears ra the length of my nose.
"I Don't remember doing that."
"I assure you, these cracked ribs were made by impact of your foot."
"I'm sorry..."
"I think you have proved you can be trusted without the straight jacket."
He moved towards me to take off my restraints.
He then showed me around the hospital, including taking time to let me sign up for classes.
I signed up for self defence and art classes. I then learned that i had a thing called 'group' at 2pm everyday.
Well a year has since passed, and all i have learned about myself is that my name is Victoria, i love classical music, i am 16 turning 17 on the 16th of May and I once had a cat named The Flash.

"Vickie come on we'll be late for self defence!" Taz's voice broke through my reminisce. A glance at my wristwatch revealed that it was almost 8am.
We set off towards our defence class.


-End of chapter 1-