Post by Crystal Sharpe on Jun 13, 2019 14:43:10 GMT -5
The second hand on the large clock on the wall hit twelve and this meant only one thing, it was now Noon, Thursday, and Crystal Sharpes assigned therapy session time.
Her therapist, Dr. Phillips, checked his schedule. Crystal Sharpe. 12: 05pm. His pencil bounced on the notepad. Hopefully this time the pair could make progress.
Crystal was brought into the office by two prison guards, her legs and arms both chained together. Sporting a bright orange prison outfit with several cuts visible on her arms, the guards sat a young teenage Crystal down in one of the large leather chairs opposite the doctors.
Dr. Phillips: How's she getting on?
The taller of the two guards looked across at the doctor, motioning towards the visible cuts on the young blondes arms.
Prison Guard: Not good, she slit her wrists again a few days back, somehow she managed to get her hands on a screwdriver that she filed down. Honestly, we're not sure how she's doing it.
Crystal hadn't said a single thing, she just remained dead silent as the men spoke, her head down and staring blankly at the floor. Dr. Phillips waved off the guards after they finished shackling her into the leather chair across from him.
Dr. Phillips: Crystal.
He sighed.
Dr. Phillips: Please understand we're only trying to help you. The restraints are for your own safety.
And perhaps his as well.
Dr. Phillips: How did you get a screwdriver?
Crystal didn't answer, she just continued to stare at the floor as if she was, for whatever reason, highly fascinated by the carpeting.
Dr. Phillips: You know I just want to help you. You've been here a long time, Crystal. Soon you'll be an adult and…
He felt as if he failed her in this moment.
Dr. Phillips: Without any progress the state is going to release you into a maximum security prison once you're eighteen. I don't want to see that happen.
Then he tried to trigger her out of her funk.
Dr. Phillips: Your mother, Amber, was a beautiful lady. I'm sure she wouldn't want to see you this way.
He nodded at the scars on her arms.
Dr. Phillips: I know it's traumatic. Talk to me, Crystal.
Crystal continued to stare at the floor but this time she did speak up, mostly because the doctor had mentioned her mother, the mother who they STILL thought she had murdered despite the fact that she'd spent almost a decade of her life telling them that she was innocent. But they found her fingerprints and gunpowder residue on her hands and that was enough for them to condemn her to a life in hell.
Crystal: None of you want to help me. None of you even care about me. All you care about is ticking off my name so you can say “I “cured” this many people”! Well it's all bullshit, the lot of you are PURE bullshit! At least if I kill myself I go out MY way, how I choose to go out! You wouldn't care even then, you'd just replace me in that cell whilst my bed is still warm! And don't even try to deny it! You want me to start being honest and truthful with you… why don't YOU start doing the same thing! You'd prefer it if I was dead!
Dr. Phillips: No. You have to understand that you are sick, and it is my job to treat your sickness. Yes, it's a job, but I truly do care for your well being otherwise. You are never going to get better if you refuse to acknowledge the illness. You killed your mother, Crystal. Try to remember the gun in your hands, the horror on that innocent boys face… how long did you have feelings of hatred for her?
At this point Crystal looked up at the doctor, hatred boiling within her. If she could have done so, she would have leaped out of the chair and strangled him at this very moment.
Crystal: I… DIDN'T… KILL… MY… MOM!!! I DIDN'T KILL HER! I DIDN'T!!! I DIDN'T KILL HER!!! Why do none of you believe me?! WHY DO YOU ALL BELIEVE HIM?!! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU ALL!!!
He nodded in disappointment, jotting down some notes. He left it exposed to her view by accident while doing so.
Crystal Sharpe. 12:05pm. 2/7/13.
Killed her mother at age five. Father of Crystal Sharpe committed suicide months following. Blamed the incident on six year old boy she calls 'Logan'.
Crystal: My Daddy…. is dead?....
At this moment Crystal started to cry, a lot. How could he be dead? And even worse, how could they know this and have never told her? He quickly withdrew the notepad.
Dr. Phillips: That's not important right now.
Crystal looked up at the doctor and blinked her eyes, her face now a red, blotchy, tear soaked mess.
Crystal: How is that not important?! You don't think I deserve to know that… I bet it was Logan, he got to him. He wasn't satisfied only killing my Mom, he had to finish him off too…
Dr. Phillips: I'm sorry, Crystal. I haven't eaten all day.
Girl was hopeless. He was hungry.
Dr. Phillips: Did you want anything? I'll be right back.
The Doctor left the office, leaving the door unlocked.
"Have you ever fired a handgun?"
The familiar line that little boy spoke to her filled the room, or maybe her head. However it sounded a little older. Less childish. More teenish. Crystal started to panic, thrashing around in her chair against her restraints.
Crystal: LOGANS HERE! HE'S COME BACK TO FINISH ME OFF! PLEASE! DOCTOR! GUARDS! ANY BODY! TAKE ME BACK TO MY CELL! PLEASE TAKE ME BACK!!! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!!! TAKE ME BACK!!!
The Doctor rushed into the room, a sandwich in one hand, syringe in the other. He injected the sedative into Crystals neck and she fell fast asleep.
"Crystal."
The voice in her cell echoed. Her eyes flipping open from the drug haze.
"It's time to wake up."
Crystal tried her hardest to sit up in her bed, she was still extremely dizzy and could not see straight. She quickly looked around the room, she was alone.
Crystal: L-Logan?! Why… what…
Crystal blinked her eyes as hard as she could desperately trying to get herself back to normal. Surely she was just dreaming when she heard his voice? A shoebox slid out from underneath her bunk, then the sight of a pale child's hand retreating into the darkness under her bed. Crystal just stared at this, her eyes as wide as could be. She grabbed at her head, pulling her hair and slamming her head down into her pillow repeatedly.
Crystal: NOT REAL! NOT REAL! NOT REAL! NOT REAL! YOU'RE IN MY HEAD!!! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD!!!!!!! GET OUT!!!!!!!
Crystals Father: Crystal… oh baby girl.
Her father, Ben, sat on the edge of the bed beside her, holding the shoebox in his hands. Crystal looked across at him, her jaw dropping. Her supposedly deceased father was sitting right next to her… seemingly alive and well.
Crystal: But… Daddy… You're dead! Logan killed you! I saw it in the file! How are you here?!
He stared at the shoebox.
Crystals Father: Daddys here for his baby girl.
He opened the shoebox, reached within and pulled out the same pistol that ended her mothers life.
Crystals Father: I've always been here.
He smiled at her, before putting the barrel into his mouth. Crystal gasped as she saw him do this, her natural reaction was to stop him, to jump on him and stop him from hurting himself. She leaped on top of him… and fell through him, falling hard onto the floor and smacking her head against the hard concrete below her. Crystal laid on the floor, completely dazed and barely conscious.
Crystal: Urgh.
Her father laid down next to her, seductively sucking the gun barrel held within his mouth. He pulled the trigger, splattering chunks of skull and brain onto her face. Crystal screamed louder than ever as she looked at the blood which was now all over herself. She tried to wipe it away but it felt and looked… and even smelled real. She jumped up onto her feet and screamed even louder.
Crystal: GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!! GET OUT!!!
Crystal began SMASHING her head straight into the concrete wall, instantly breaking her nose and causing blood to gush from her head. She didn't stop though, she just kept slamming her head into the wall, again and again, until her legs gave way and she collapsed down onto the floor, fully unconscious and completely soaked in blood.
Prison Guard: WHAT THE FUCK?!! Guys! GUYS!!! I need help here… Crystals badly hurt!
Several more prison guards, with paramedics close behind them, rushed to the scene as they stormed into the cell and began working on the still unmoving blonde.
Her therapist, Dr. Phillips, checked his schedule. Crystal Sharpe. 12: 05pm. His pencil bounced on the notepad. Hopefully this time the pair could make progress.
Crystal was brought into the office by two prison guards, her legs and arms both chained together. Sporting a bright orange prison outfit with several cuts visible on her arms, the guards sat a young teenage Crystal down in one of the large leather chairs opposite the doctors.
Dr. Phillips: How's she getting on?
The taller of the two guards looked across at the doctor, motioning towards the visible cuts on the young blondes arms.
Prison Guard: Not good, she slit her wrists again a few days back, somehow she managed to get her hands on a screwdriver that she filed down. Honestly, we're not sure how she's doing it.
Crystal hadn't said a single thing, she just remained dead silent as the men spoke, her head down and staring blankly at the floor. Dr. Phillips waved off the guards after they finished shackling her into the leather chair across from him.
Dr. Phillips: Crystal.
He sighed.
Dr. Phillips: Please understand we're only trying to help you. The restraints are for your own safety.
And perhaps his as well.
Dr. Phillips: How did you get a screwdriver?
Crystal didn't answer, she just continued to stare at the floor as if she was, for whatever reason, highly fascinated by the carpeting.
Dr. Phillips: You know I just want to help you. You've been here a long time, Crystal. Soon you'll be an adult and…
He felt as if he failed her in this moment.
Dr. Phillips: Without any progress the state is going to release you into a maximum security prison once you're eighteen. I don't want to see that happen.
Then he tried to trigger her out of her funk.
Dr. Phillips: Your mother, Amber, was a beautiful lady. I'm sure she wouldn't want to see you this way.
He nodded at the scars on her arms.
Dr. Phillips: I know it's traumatic. Talk to me, Crystal.
Crystal continued to stare at the floor but this time she did speak up, mostly because the doctor had mentioned her mother, the mother who they STILL thought she had murdered despite the fact that she'd spent almost a decade of her life telling them that she was innocent. But they found her fingerprints and gunpowder residue on her hands and that was enough for them to condemn her to a life in hell.
Crystal: None of you want to help me. None of you even care about me. All you care about is ticking off my name so you can say “I “cured” this many people”! Well it's all bullshit, the lot of you are PURE bullshit! At least if I kill myself I go out MY way, how I choose to go out! You wouldn't care even then, you'd just replace me in that cell whilst my bed is still warm! And don't even try to deny it! You want me to start being honest and truthful with you… why don't YOU start doing the same thing! You'd prefer it if I was dead!
Dr. Phillips: No. You have to understand that you are sick, and it is my job to treat your sickness. Yes, it's a job, but I truly do care for your well being otherwise. You are never going to get better if you refuse to acknowledge the illness. You killed your mother, Crystal. Try to remember the gun in your hands, the horror on that innocent boys face… how long did you have feelings of hatred for her?
At this point Crystal looked up at the doctor, hatred boiling within her. If she could have done so, she would have leaped out of the chair and strangled him at this very moment.
Crystal: I… DIDN'T… KILL… MY… MOM!!! I DIDN'T KILL HER! I DIDN'T!!! I DIDN'T KILL HER!!! Why do none of you believe me?! WHY DO YOU ALL BELIEVE HIM?!! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU ALL!!!
He nodded in disappointment, jotting down some notes. He left it exposed to her view by accident while doing so.
Crystal Sharpe. 12:05pm. 2/7/13.
Killed her mother at age five. Father of Crystal Sharpe committed suicide months following. Blamed the incident on six year old boy she calls 'Logan'.
Crystal: My Daddy…. is dead?....
At this moment Crystal started to cry, a lot. How could he be dead? And even worse, how could they know this and have never told her? He quickly withdrew the notepad.
Dr. Phillips: That's not important right now.
Crystal looked up at the doctor and blinked her eyes, her face now a red, blotchy, tear soaked mess.
Crystal: How is that not important?! You don't think I deserve to know that… I bet it was Logan, he got to him. He wasn't satisfied only killing my Mom, he had to finish him off too…
Dr. Phillips: I'm sorry, Crystal. I haven't eaten all day.
Girl was hopeless. He was hungry.
Dr. Phillips: Did you want anything? I'll be right back.
The Doctor left the office, leaving the door unlocked.
"Have you ever fired a handgun?"
The familiar line that little boy spoke to her filled the room, or maybe her head. However it sounded a little older. Less childish. More teenish. Crystal started to panic, thrashing around in her chair against her restraints.
Crystal: LOGANS HERE! HE'S COME BACK TO FINISH ME OFF! PLEASE! DOCTOR! GUARDS! ANY BODY! TAKE ME BACK TO MY CELL! PLEASE TAKE ME BACK!!! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!!! TAKE ME BACK!!!
The Doctor rushed into the room, a sandwich in one hand, syringe in the other. He injected the sedative into Crystals neck and she fell fast asleep.
"Crystal."
The voice in her cell echoed. Her eyes flipping open from the drug haze.
"It's time to wake up."
Crystal tried her hardest to sit up in her bed, she was still extremely dizzy and could not see straight. She quickly looked around the room, she was alone.
Crystal: L-Logan?! Why… what…
Crystal blinked her eyes as hard as she could desperately trying to get herself back to normal. Surely she was just dreaming when she heard his voice? A shoebox slid out from underneath her bunk, then the sight of a pale child's hand retreating into the darkness under her bed. Crystal just stared at this, her eyes as wide as could be. She grabbed at her head, pulling her hair and slamming her head down into her pillow repeatedly.
Crystal: NOT REAL! NOT REAL! NOT REAL! NOT REAL! YOU'RE IN MY HEAD!!! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD!!!!!!! GET OUT!!!!!!!
Crystals Father: Crystal… oh baby girl.
Her father, Ben, sat on the edge of the bed beside her, holding the shoebox in his hands. Crystal looked across at him, her jaw dropping. Her supposedly deceased father was sitting right next to her… seemingly alive and well.
Crystal: But… Daddy… You're dead! Logan killed you! I saw it in the file! How are you here?!
He stared at the shoebox.
Crystals Father: Daddys here for his baby girl.
He opened the shoebox, reached within and pulled out the same pistol that ended her mothers life.
Crystals Father: I've always been here.
He smiled at her, before putting the barrel into his mouth. Crystal gasped as she saw him do this, her natural reaction was to stop him, to jump on him and stop him from hurting himself. She leaped on top of him… and fell through him, falling hard onto the floor and smacking her head against the hard concrete below her. Crystal laid on the floor, completely dazed and barely conscious.
Crystal: Urgh.
Her father laid down next to her, seductively sucking the gun barrel held within his mouth. He pulled the trigger, splattering chunks of skull and brain onto her face. Crystal screamed louder than ever as she looked at the blood which was now all over herself. She tried to wipe it away but it felt and looked… and even smelled real. She jumped up onto her feet and screamed even louder.
Crystal: GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!! GET OUT!!!
Crystal began SMASHING her head straight into the concrete wall, instantly breaking her nose and causing blood to gush from her head. She didn't stop though, she just kept slamming her head into the wall, again and again, until her legs gave way and she collapsed down onto the floor, fully unconscious and completely soaked in blood.
Prison Guard: WHAT THE FUCK?!! Guys! GUYS!!! I need help here… Crystals badly hurt!
Several more prison guards, with paramedics close behind them, rushed to the scene as they stormed into the cell and began working on the still unmoving blonde.