Stolen Voices ✓

April 11th

Dedicated to grey_tree for always voting and commenting.

April 11th:

Tick, tick, tick.

The clock's even vibration fills the small room, matching her blinks. She rests on the floor today, her back reclining against the front side of the buckskin couch. Her shoe scuffs on the yellow daisy walls still remain, a reminder of her imprint.

The tattered puzzle pieces are peeling on the ends, worn with use. Stripping back the vibrant picture, it exposes the cardboard behind. Mara feels like the pieces. Slowly her brilliant colorful barriers are being peeled back. She feels exposed, like the cardboard of her makeup is on view to anyone who cares to pay attention.

Dr. Alice convenes in her plaid armchair as always, her red hair more vibrant with the tender rays of sunlight that beam through the window. It is still quite early in the morning, the green blades of grass covered in morning dew. The room is warm, but Mara feels cold, pulling the sleeves of her black sweatshirt around her tighter, shoving her hands deep in her pockets.

She feels it today, the weight placed on her shoulders. She forgot to take her medicine the past few days, and even that one slip-up makes her feel off. Last night, she didn't sleep. Restless, she ended up camped out in the movie room, her eyes now brimmed red and stinging.

"Is there something on your mind you'd like to talk about?" Dr. Alice proposes. She grasps that some days are more dragging than others for her. She doesn't worry much about Mara's quietness. A sense of detachment is a red-flag, but here sitting, Mara is lucid.

"No," Mara grumbles, putting a few pieces of the puzzle back together. She is almost halfway through with it, staring at the box rather than meeting Dr. Alice's ocean placid eyes.

The voices are a little louder today, a little more profuse inside her head. At least they aren't screaming. It's scary when you can't tell reality from the make-believe of your subconscious.

"Okay," Dr. Alice nods and just allows Mara to continue building her puzzle.

She won't push her over the edge. Though this version of Mara could appear to be hypomanic, she doesn't appear all that catastrophic. She just seems to be tired, absolutely spent.

Mara approaching a manic episode would be hyperactive with wild ideas and racing thoughts that mashed together into what she can only describe as blurred red. The most obvious signs would be her obsession to one person, the feeling of self-importance.

The need to be in constant motion, a never ending cycle of activity.

So for today, Dr. Alice let them spend their hour in taciturnity. She will check out later that Mara got back on her routine with her mother.

---

Mara was Dr. Alice's first patient of the day, and Elias is her last, much similar to their characters. He wanders in as the world turns dark, navy blue dusk setting the canvas of night. The moon, rising halfway in the sky, meeting the setting sun.

He seems lighter today, walking into her office. She'd prescribed him antidepressants and anxiety medication after their first meeting. He showed clear signs of untreated PTSD with vivid nightmares and panic attacks as a result of it.

Today, his shoulders are back as he marches with powerful strides, the notebook in his clutch. He never shows Dr. Alice what he writes, those are his words to keep. But he always brings it along. It is like a security blanket, his entire story written between the light blue lines.