The World I Knew Isn't The Same Anymore

Prolouge

5 years ago

Welcome to New York City, where the people never sleep and the lights never seem to turn off. There's a young couple living on Crosby Street, apart of a building complex that's home to 100s of other families. There's always noise and taxis running up and down harboring women and men desperately attending and getting to jobs just to survive.

Despite the million people in new york, a frail young woman who goes by the name of Madame takes an interest in the young couple on Crosby.

Why?

Well, they've adopted a girl about six years ago from a foster center in DC. This girls name is Bree Doe, now known as just Bree, as the couple never legally changed her last name and the girl took up a liking of being a mystery.

Lady Madame approaches this couple. "Hi!" She exclaims with a toothy smile, the corners of her mouth tug up emphasizing her high cheek bones. She looks friendly, as her strawberry blonde hair is perfectly tamed and her makeup creates the illusion of skies in her eyes. "Your Mr. and Mrs. Nelly, correct?"

"Yes. Who's asking?" Bree's adopted father is the one to answer. He clutches a tall black coffee in his hand, and there's dark circles beneath his brown eyes.

"I'm Miss Madame, I work at a children's clinic back in DC," Madame says this with confidence, and her features show nothing less. She extends her ring covered hands to the young couple and continues. "I've been made aware that your daughter is having certain thoughts and visions. Certain behavioral patterns that is affecting her ability in school and socialization?"

Both Mr. and Mrs. Nellys eyes widen a bit, but the way they look at each other confirms Madame's words. "Yes," they answer unanimously.

"Our clinic center takes in children like this, and gives them various opportunities to better themselves so they can become the best version of who they are. We see potential in children who develop certain psychosocial and behaviors that Bree is showing," Madame continued to explain without letting her smile or confidence dim. "We would absolutely love to give your daughter this opportunity."

The young couple glances at each once more. Although they may have some love for their adopted daughter, they can't help but think they are way over their heads. Bree's been having nightmares about war and is convinced that a man with black eyes is constantly telling her she's a God. Last month she nearly drowned herself because she thought she saw some type of mermaid in a pool, and that caused her to jump into the deep end without any skills of being a swimmer. Six months ago she pushed a kid off a ledge because "someone" told her he can fly.

"What would this opportunity look like?" This time Mrs. Nelly carries on the conversation.

"We offer in-patient behavioral, social-emotional, psychotherapeutic, and cognitive therapy to children 6-18," Madame continues to sell this couple. Her Ganni dress and Marc Jacob boots scream success in the city of New York. "Treatment length is based off the progress of the child, and we allow the child to have a say in their stay."

The couple once again looks at each other. A glimmer of hope lights up in their eyes. Before they have a chance to speak again, Madame continues.

"A child like Bree can either create or destroy the world she lives in," Madame shifts the vibe of the conversation and her voice becomes much lower and charming. "Based off certain elements, she has met criteria for a diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia. This only gets worse without treatment or medication."

"How do you know this?" Mr. Nelly's voice comes out this time masked in curiosity. "Will we still be able to see her?"

"Our clinic, Hope for the Youth, has a secure partnership with the foster agencies you adopted her from. You adopted her when she was seven years old, and before that she nearly killed herself and others with a butter knife based off the belief she was immortal," Madame continues to answer, her melodic voice never failing. "Her school counselor reached out to us again due to a rough year in 7th grade."