“One foot in front of the other…”
They said it would stop. The men in white told her it wouldn’t happen anymore, that she’d be okay, just like everyone else. That those threatening voices wouldn’t bother her again. They told her, no- promised her- she’d be left alone.
“…And soon all the pain will be gone, gone, gone.”
Lies. All those words, all those promises- that’s all they were. They had lied to her as if she was a lost cause, as if they didn’t care.
A stick snaps under a foot moved forward.
“One down, five more to go till freedom.”
Freedom. For years she tried to avoid the sick encouragement, to receive her own mind back. She didn’t want it to win, but the truth was it had. She cracked, after years of the sick torture, and began to believe its words were true.
Two more feet of ground left behind.
“That’s it my dear, worthless child. You’re going so far.”
Worthless. That’s what she was. It told her that for years, and now it was sketched into her mind. She couldn’t do anything right. She just kept making people mad and letting them down. She wanted to loved, and now there’s no other way.
Arms wobble and unbalanced feet linger on an edge.
“Just a little more effort, you’re so damn close to success.”
Success. Something she’s always wanted- to be successful, to be important in her parents’ minds, to be special. One more move and she’d have that. She’d finally wanted. She’d be accomplished. She imagines how happy everyone one will be with her for finishing something, for doing something right.
“Five…four…”
A deep breath. Acknowledgment of the achievement she’s about to make.
“Three…two…”
One leg forward. Eyes close softly, peacefully. Acceptance.
“One.”
Air. For once, a small smile. She’ll be loved. She’ll be appreciated.
“I knew you had the strength.”
She’s free.
Points:
Time spent:
IP address:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
Are you sure you want to delete this comment? This cannot be undone.
Mark this comment as a review? Points will be awarded to the poster.
Your comment was posted, but it wasn’t long enough to count as a review. Reviews need about four complete sentences (at least 250 characters). Try writing another review that explains your thoughts in more detail — the author will appreciate it, and you’ll earn points for it.
140,235 Literary Works • 673,048 Reviews
As chetanbhasin something detrimental for this piece is the lack of clarity. I would contribute to the fragments of thoughts that aren’t coherently tied to any stable scenes to solidify what’s going on.
For example:
How are these voices threatening? How exactly do they bother her? The reader can jump to the conclusion that she may suffer from schizophrenia or some other disease that involves the brain and the ability to process information.
Nonetheless, we do not know how these voices wear down on her. Do they tell her awful things about others? That the others won’t understand. Does she give into delusions? Or is it a multiple personality sort of deal in which the other voices are other personas?
By being specific, it is easier to describe what’s going on with further detail that would enable the audience a chance to connect to the character –and feel invested- and perhaps even sympathize with her.
After pinpointing the root cause of her issues it will be easy to raise the stakes, explain why it’s driven her to this point. Right now, I’m wondering . . . what’s worse than death? For me, it would be isolation –true loneliness- with no one, no sound, no animals, and no objects: nothing. Or perhaps, losing control of both my body and my mind through a degenerative disease such as Huntington’s disease.
In which dementia sets in, one loses complete control beginning with convulsions, and ultimately loses control over even the bladder. The worse thing is to know what is waiting for you –having the lucidity to understand and slowly watching that disappear and KNOWING there’s nothing you can do about it.
Those are only examples. I recall a friend’s mother contemplating euthanasia for multiple factors, but because her quality of life was very poor. It hurt to breath . . . to laugh. Everything hurt. Medical bills easily accrue searching for a cure. Watching loved ones fret and worry, it must have been awful.
In short, I advise setting the scene with plenty of detail. She escapes from the confines –how is that? Does it come at the cost of injuring herself?
Where in the world is she? I imagine the woods, but she clearly jumps. Now my mind can’t make peace with this unless she found some cliff, but even then –it would have to be high lest she falls and only gravely injures herself.
Being in a psych ward, within hours, the caretakers would notice and start searching. Then it’s a race against the clock. Her dying of injuries, dehydration, or predators . . . or worst-case scenario for our protagonist she’s found and detained once more.
In any case, good luck!
I appreciate the emotions that you are trying to bring up with this short story, but I wouldn't really call it a short story. It seems more like a part of a story.
Apart from the grammar and sentence structure you are very unclear with what you have to say. It appeared, to me, that you are trying to explain a scene of a dying woman in the hospital. That is only what I could imagine though, , this piece does not make anything clear to the reader.