Efflorescence

Chapter one 

The ISB isn't a place you ever want to visit. Trust me on that one. Lying awake in the hard bed, I thought back to before my parents left me in this mental institution. I was just so different. I didn't fit in then, and I sure as hell don't fit in now. Now they treat me like a serial killer in a jail cell, restricted and always - always - being watched. Then, as if it was planned, a snake slithered in from under the bed: a snake that had visited me every night for as long as I can remember: a deadly black snake with a bloody-red diamond back: a snake that only I could see. Nobody came running in as an attempt to kill her, but there was a stampede of people's feet hitting the floor as they rushed in to see what I was screaming about. You would think I'd be used to her by now, but seeing a man with a large needle aiming at me still scared me less than the snake I had named years back: Killer. I had decided that Killer was a she when I was about 5, after seeing her brilliant colors. As the needle penetrated my skin, I felt a burning for almost a second. Then, it was replaced with feelings of calmness. They had me on pills upon pills, but no medicine could ever stop Killer from visiting me at night. That's when they decided to use injections as a last resort. Although it made the screaming stop, it didn't make her go away. It blurred my vision, making the diamonds look more like circles and spinning my mind. I could already feel my eyes starting to droop, and before I knew it, I fell into a deep sleep filled with nightmares.

Chapter two 

"Zella!" a woman's voice that I wasn't familiar with screeched my name. It was fingernails rapping a chalkboard. I think I screamed for her to shut up, but I wasn't sane long enough to find out; the voices took over. "Zella... Zella... Zell..." they cackled madly. I fell to the floor from the bed, hands over my ears, desperately trying to make it go away. "STOP!" I shrieked as I felt cold hands clasp my arm. They started screaming bloody murder. No apparent reason, they were just being loud. They were going to blow my eardrums out.

Chapter three 

Whenever I woke again, I was strapped to a stretcher. Once my mind finally processed what was happening, I realized I was in the back of an ambulance. I allowed my eyes to focus around me. I noticed a boy sitting in the corner, and recognized him instantly as Sam, the guy who rode in the back with me the first time I was in an ambulance. I was being transported to the ISB a few weeks ago, but it seemed like years. "Where to?" I asked slowly. He looked up at me, careful not to make any sudden movements. He knew me too well; I'm sure the nurses told him about my episode earlier. "An advanced version of the ISB," he responded with no emotion. Now I guess would be a good time to tell you what the ISB is. It stands for Institution for Schizophrenic Behaviors (A.K.A. Insane Psycho Bitches). As you have probably figured out by now, I was diagnosed with schizophrenia (also, EDNOS, depression, anxiety, and I often self-harm; what a mix). My parents disowned me along with my diagnosis'. Summary: My name is Zella, and I am screwed up. "What do you mean 'advanced'?" I asked, freaking out a little. "Probably just more security. You are a hand full, sweety," he gave me a slight smirk. Maybe you're wondering why he was telling me all of these things, well, Sam was my older brother.

Chapter four 

Sam insisted on escorting me into the building, but a tall, lanky woman in a red turtle neck made it happen otherwise. Sam kissed me on the cheek and then the woman summoned a man over to me. I watched Sam climb into the ambulance with a sad expression, and disappear into the night. Although the overcast stole the stars' light, the moon still shone through enough for me to see the slick glare of the sky-scraping, metal, picket fence. The man walked up to me with a harsh expression glued on his face. "Zella Chandler," he said my name bluntly like a teacher calling roll. I was tempted to look around, act confused, and say "Nope, it doesn't look like she's here today," in the most sarcastic voice I could manage. Since, I had to admit, I was scared to be in these people's hands for the next - who knows how long - I settled for "That would be me." I didn't think it was possible, but his face hardened. I turned back to look into pure nothingness as the man started to talk. The only words I caught were "My name is Oliver Wade, but you will address me as Mr. Wade or Sir at all times. I am the head of the adolescent unit here in the improved version of the Institution for Schizophrenic Behavior. We have a zero tolerance policy for nonsense," before I tuned him out. I would catch up on all the info later. I tried as hard as I could to keep my guard up at all times, but I was not expecting the man I now knew as Mr. Wade (or Sir) to grab my wrist. He couldn't have lightly touched it to get my attention, no, he had to clutch it in his rough hand and squeeze. I swallowed a scream and jumped backwards. I could feel my jacket lining sticking to my unhealed cuts. "I'd advise you not to disrespect authority," He said sternly. I nodded slowly.