I irrationally laughed at myself. I was twenty-five years old, now, yet I felt like a child (my birthday was three months ago in May, barely a month after… Spencer… I chose, in good reason, not to celebrate the day that I didn’t really care about). Time was going by quickly; Spencer… left… in April, I turned twenty-five in May, we released the new album in June, and now it was August, two months later and touring ourselves to death. If I closed my eyes for too long, it would probably be December already, and if I closed them even longer I may even be on my deathbed before I knew it.


“Come on, Himes, we are leaving,” Vic, as usual, grabbed me by the arm, shaking away my thoughts.


“I don’t want to go,” I half-whined. This was why I felt like a child. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to visit Spencer. Not because it was painful (well, it was, but that wasn’t the real reason), but because I was scared. I was scared of what she would look like. I was scared of what she would act like. The only memory of her in my head at this point was not even a memory of her at all; it was her image that my mind made up in my nightmares. My nightmares created an evil, psychotic Spencer… A Spencer that I never knew but dreaded to meet.


“Jaime, I’m not telling you again. Get in the van,” Vic dragged me outside (my legs betraying me, just like everything and everyone else) and pointed at the van, his eyebrows furrowing.


“Okay, Mom,” I rolled my eyes, submitting to Vic’s dominance. For some reason, he was very enthusiastic and overbearing about this, while I wasn’t even planning on getting out of the van when we got there. He wanted me to see her at least once before we left on the “This Is A Family Tour”. I thought this was a terrible idea; what kind of mindset was he trying to put me in before we played shows?


Before I knew it, we were there. I closed my eyes. I could almost feel her presence. I kept my eyes closed. I didn’t want to look at the building. I didn’t want its image in my head. I didn’t want to have to remember it later.


“Get out of the car, Jaime,” Vic sighed, impatient. I shook my head. I couldn’t do. I wouldn’t do it. “Jaime. Now,” he growled.


My eyes were already burning with tears. I was being a child again. I was a grown man, but I felt like an adolescent teenager. “I can’t,” my voice broke.


“Jaime, just trust me, okay? It’ll be okay,” Vic’s voice softened, and he firmly gripped my shoulder. “Just come on,” he said.


I nodded, reluctantly getting out. I looked at the ground, watching my feet move as we walked into the building. I didn’t dare look up. A rush of cool air blew past me as the doors swung open. The hospital was cold and quiet. Even though I was only in the waiting room and welcome area, I couldn’t imagine people being capable of becoming sane in a place like this.


“We’re here to visit Spencer Martin,” Vic spoke to the person at the desk. I continued to stare at my feet. I was suddenly interested in the way my shoelaces wrapped together in a tangled yet organized mess. I liked the way how one rope could hold an entire thing together. It was ironic; a rope could also tear things apart… like a neck from shoulders…


My thoughts, which I found to be terrifyingly escalating without my control, were interrupted when the person at the desk spoke. It was a woman: “Yes, she’s in the Psychiatric Hospital, which is down that wing,” I guess she nodded in the direction of the ward. “Please fill these out, and then some one will take you to her room.”


I imagined that she had a friendly smile on her face. How could anyone smile in a place like this?


I heard the scribbling of a pen meeting paper. Vic was filling out two forms and two nametags. I felt guilty for the way he had to take care of me, and I felt like a child once again. I was twenty-five years old, but when was I going to grow up?


I looked up slightly so I only looked at his face, looking at him gratefully as he handed me the tag that I pinned to the collar of my jacket.


“Thanks so much,” the woman said when I heard the shuffling of papers. “Marvin here will take you to her room,” she said.


“Right this way,” a man—Marvin, I assumed—led us down the hallway. I continued to stare at the ground, watching six pairs of feet shuffle down the hallway.


I knew we were getting closer. The pit in my stomach grew until it hurt. I was moments away from seeing her again. I was moments away from seeing who she really was. They say that your true self comes out when you are locked away in a mental hospital.


“I’ll go in first and talk to her before you, okay?” Vic mumbled to me as I heard the knocking of a door.


I nodded.


The door creaked open.


“Spencer, dear, you have visitors!” Martin said cheerfully.


“Please don’t call me that,” I heard a mumble come from the room. I abruptly clasped my hands to my ears. Her voice was soft and almost innocent sounding. I had imagined that it would be a snarling, angry voice…


“Dude,” Vic breathed. I shook my head, backing up into the wall that was across from her door.


“And, who is it?” I tried hard to block her out. But I couldn’t. Her voice penetrated my skull.


Martin paused, turning back at us, carefully studying our nametags. I covered mine. I didn’t want him to say my name to her. I think he got the hint that I preferred to be outside rather than in her room. I clenched my eyes shut, sliding down the wall. I didn’t want to hear or see this. I didn’t want to be here.


“Your friend, Vic,” Martine said. I was grateful he didn’t introduce me, afraid to hear her reaction before Vic talked to her. I heard a soft gasp come from the room, followed by an “Oh”. “Go on,” Martin nodded to him to go on, stared at me curiously, and then disappeared down the hallway. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”


Vic turned and looked at me carefully before walking in. I brought my legs into my chest and buried my face into my knees, my hands still clasped on both sides of my head. I breathed heavily. I tried to block out all sounds. Vic was a rather loud talker though, or maybe it was because everything else was so fucking quiet.


“Hey, Spence,” I could hear the smile in his voice.


“Vic,” I heard her say in an almost relieved tone. I heard the rustling of fabric, indicating that they hugged. Vic was a brave man.


“Is someone else here? Martin said I had visitors, as in plural,” she said.


“Spencer, I brought Jaime to see you,” I heard Vic say carefully. There was a pause, and then a loud bang. I looked up in alarm, seeing the back of a familiar brown haired head smashed against the tiny window in the door. I was paralyzed. My breathing stopped as I watched everything happen too fast for me to do anything. His head was brought back and then slammed into the glass again.


“Why would you bring him here?” she screamed. I heard the sound of blunt objects being thrown and hit.


Vic’s scream was agonizing. I’ve never heard a more painful scream in my life.


“Help! He—” he screamed at the top of his lungs, but then his voice cut off. His body slowly dragged down the inside of the door, leaving bloodstains on the broken glass. I stared, my eyes wide in shock, at the thick blood that seeped through the bottom of the door. Vic’s blood.


And then her face appeared through the partly shattered and crimson red window. Her black hair was in her face, black make up smudged around her soulless eyes, and her mouth was curled up in a malicious smirk.


I stood up abruptly, racing to the door, intending to rescue the probably-already-dead Vic from the madness. I wrenched it open, and then I heard a gasp.


“Jaime?” Vic looked at me in surprise.


I blinked. He was standing…


I blinked again, turning around to look at the door. The window was not shattered, there was no blood. There was no Vic slumped against the door.


I turned back again, and Vic was still staring at me, confused at my behavior. I tried my hardest not to, but my eyes darted over to the small girl that he stood close next to. Her hair was not an intense black, but rather a soft and dark brown. It was kept neatly behind her shoulders. Her face was natural. No makeup running down her face. She looked… healthy. The last time I saw her, her cheekbones were dangerously prominent, her eyes were sunken in with dark circles, and her skin was a fragile white. Now, she wasn’t tan, but she had color. She looked healthy, and she looked alive.


“Jaime?” this time she spoke, tilting her head to the side, staring at me intently. I had expected her eyes to stab through me painfully, but they were warm and wondering.


But the previous vision of her shocked me. So I just stood there. Staring. Not saying anything. Not being able to speak.


“Jaime. Snap out of it,” Vic whispered. I felt a snapping, but I didn’t snap out of it. Spencer’s face flickered from sweet and alive to evil and dead. The smirk reappeared on her face, as did the makeup and the dark hair. I felt dizzy. I looked around, everything in slow motion. Her hands were bloody. I turned to Vic, but he wasn’t standing anymore. Glass stuck out of his head, his eyes were open, but his pupils were nonexistent. His body lay beaten and mangled on the floor, blood pooling around him.


I jumped back, my back hitting the wall. The image changed again, and they stood there like before, staring at me in alarm.


I blinked. I shook my head. Which vision was real?


My nightmares were mixing with my realty dangerously… to the point where I didn’t know what was real.


“Jaime, it’s okay,” Spencer spoke. It was a gentle voice. But then she said it again, and it was a screech. “You were supposed to stop me from falling!” she screamed.


“I tried!” I yelled back.


“What?” she tilted her head to the side in confusion. I widened my eyes again. I wondered if my eyes could actually pop out of my skull, because I felt like that was happening.


“What?” I said back.


“Jaime…” Vic narrowed his eyes at me in worry. I tried to step backward from their looks, but I was already pressed completely against the wall.


“I have to go,” I said hastily. And, with that, I turned and ripped the door open. I sprinted down the hallway, ignoring the surprised looking staff members. I busted open the exit door and raced to the van Vic drove us in. I slapped both of my hands on to the side of the van in exasperation. I could hardly contain my breaths. My mind hurt like hell.


I got violently sick onto the pavement, and then I slowly sunk my way down the side of the van. I held my head in my hands, trying unsuccessfully to shake out what I saw… or what I thought I saw.


Well, fuck.


Maybe I needed to be in that damned place more than she did.

Notes

Update number three.

So, sorry this has been kind of dark and depressing so far in my opinion. My writing usually reflects my mood, so, yeah.

Suggestions?

I appreciate the comments, rates, and subscriptions!

xoxo

PS: what are your thoughts on A Flair For The Dramatic? I've been listening to it a lot lately for some reason: "You know i'm a ghost, pull the note out of my throat and leave me alone" <-- from "Falling asleep on a stranger" jesus these lyrics hit me like a train. idk i just think the lyrics in this album are especially... especially dark..? IDK FOOD FOR THOUGHT bye
It's really cool to see how each album is different, but they are still the same. idk. they progressed so much in a good way, but all their stuff is good. :')

ok now bye

sorry

omg