(Disclaimer: Contains themes of violence and mental illness that some readers may find disturbing.)

A few months passed.

I began to walk the halls on my own, but that was all I could really do. Occasionally, I would walk into a wall or a piece of furniture.

I still couldn't react or speak.

It felt as if the real me was floating, watching as someone else walked around in my body. I could barely understand the people around me. But there were some voices I could hear clearly.

I walked into the kitchen and stopped. An older woman in her 20's was in a tight dress, sitting on the table. She raised a shot glass, "Whoo! Party time! Who wants to see me dance on this table!?!"

A gloomy teenager sat at the table looking at a bowl of cold grey oatmeal. "I hate oatmeal... It's sticky and tasteless."

I walked to the table and sat down. A servant noticed me sitting at the table alone with a blank expression. She smiled, "My Goddess! Do you want a snack? I will bring you something tasty!!!"

She came back out and put a cupcake in front of me. I stared at it listlessly.

A small girl covered in bruises popped up on the other side of the table. She spoke in a timid voice, "Mama... My birthday is today... Can I get a cake today? I promise I will be a good girl..."

The gloomy teenager mumbled, "One day... I will become rich... Then they'll be sorry..."

"Whoo! I bet I could beat all you b*tches in a dance off!"

Stop talking.

"Mama... Please don't be angry at me..."

"I hate this place...."

"Drinks are on me!!!"

Stop talking.

"Can I go to school today?"

"I'm not trash."

"I'm immortal!!!"

STOP TALKING!

I wanted to slam my hands into the table. I wanted to cover my ears and scream. But all I could do was stare blankly in front of me.

The servant noticed my blank stare and started helping me eat the small cake. Everyone in the house was aware of my condition. Yet because of their loyalty and dedication, they kept it secret from the outside world.

If anyone asked, I was sick with a contagious flu.

Luckily, we were out in the countryside. There was no one who could spy on us since the nearest town was a few miles away.

I didn't care. My parents only did this to keep up with appearances. They feared my life would be ruined as my mother's had almost been.

I stayed at the table and stared straight ahead. A woman in a business suit with her dark brown hair pulled back now sat across from me. The scar over her eye was covered with makeup. Her confident grin made her seem approachable.

She looked at her notes in front of her, "Let's see... Feeling trapped in your own body... Hearing voices... Seeing people who aren't there... Yup. You're having a mental breakdown" She clicked her tongue in a mocking way, "Well that's no good."

No sh*t.

She looked up, "Have you been getting adequate sleep?"

No.

"I see. You really ought to get better sleep. Hallucinations can be a result from sleep deprivation."

I already know all this. I went to college in criminal psychology. I was taught how to recognize a mental illness from just one conversation.

She pointed to me, "Knowing something doesn't automatically mean you can be saved from it. A rational person can know they are behaving irrationally, but are unable to stop."

I know this too.

She leaned back with a cocky grin, "You seem to know a lot of things... Then let me ask you this. Are you a good person or a bad one?"

My fingers twitched. The small girl with bruises looked at her, "I'm a good girl!"

The gloomy teenager looked at her as well, "I'm a good person..."

The drunk one threw her hands up, "Who needs to be a good person when you can be rich and drive expensive cars?"

The one in front of me smirked, "Well?"

A voice came from behind me, "Isn't it obvious? We are bad people. We were born bad. We will die bad."

I turned behind me to see the homeless young adult with a malicious grin on her face. She tossed the knife in the air, entertained by her own tricks.

She continued, "But what's so great about being a good person? It's not like most people are good. It's better to be bad than to be stepped on."

The therapist across from me spoke, "That's not necessarily true. You can be good and still not be taken advantage of."

The drunk one laughed, "Hah! Well if you find a way, let me know!"

I stood up and walked off. The voices grew louder.

"I don't want to eat oatmeal..."

"Mama... Can I go to school today?"

"Guess who just sold another car?!"

"And how did that make you feel?"

Stop talking.

But the voices continued. Drowning out the rest of the nosies in the house. I paused, staring at my brother's door.

The battered girl sobbed at his door while blood dripped onto the floor. "Please... Please give me my brother back... I just want my brother back..."

I blinked.

I was laying in bed staring at the ceiling. Lona bent down and kissed my forehead, "Good night Seri... There's a bad storm tonight. If you get worried, your parents are just down the hall and Bertram is right outside."

Why does she still try to talk to me? It's not like I can talk back.

She left as I laid in bed staring at the ceiling. I was so tired, yet I couldn't sleep. After a few hours I sat up. The gaunt woman sat at the foot of my bed, looking into space with a lifeless expression. "Does it even matter?"

A little bruised girl ran past us, "Mama? Can I play outside today? I promise I won't tell anyone about my face."

The gloomy teenager shook covering her ears in fear, "I hate the dark. I hate the dark."

The drunk woman stumbled around, "I live for the night!!!"

Ugh. Why won't they just shut up? I can't sleep!

I stood up and looked into the mirror. The teenager in the oversized hoodie smiled at me while tossing her knife. "What a joke you've become."

A joke?

"Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Aren't you angry?"

Angry?

"They killed you. They were your friends, and they killed you. If it were me, I'd be furious."

But what can I do?

Lightning flashed in the sky, causing the room to light up. The older girl laughed, "Hah! What can you do?! Be angry! Scream! Fight! What are you?! Some coward?"

My fists tightened. I felt something boiling in my chest.

"They killed you! They all ganged up on you, and killed you! They left your body in the middle of nowhere! No one even thought to look for you!"

I clenched my jaw.

"Aren't you angry!? Don't you want to make them pay?! They all laughed with you! They all drank with you! Then the next day, they killed you!"

I looked at my reflection which didn't reflect the me I knew. It reflected the body I stole. My eyes were lifeless. Twitching at the words.

The girl smiled, "Do you even care? Do you even feel angry? This person in front of you... Isn't you. It's just some annoying little mouse. A mouse with parents who don't raise their hand to her. Don't tell me... You actually think you are this mouse?"

It's not me.

"Do you think that you belong here? Living in luxury? Forgetting all about the real you? Do you really think that you can just go on living peacefully?"

I don't belong here.

"Aren't you angry?"

A flash of lightning struck the sky. Thunder boomed as I punched the mirror in front of me. My hand went through it with force. It shattered into pieces, cutting my wrist and hand. I huffed in anger glaring at the broken pieces at my feet.

Everyone disappeared, only the girl in the oversized hoodie was left behind. She smiled, "Congratulations little mouse."

I stomped away from the mirror filled with rage. I couldn't even feel the stinging pain in my wrist. I changed into inconspicuous clothes and stuffed whatever I could into a bag. I wrote a quick note before jumping out of the window.

The note read: Don't come looking for me. I won't return.

When I landed, I made sure not to land on my bad ankle like before. I pulled the hood up and left the house without looking back. The storm raged on, but I didn't care.

The girl in the oversized hoodie followed after me, tossing the knife in a carefree manner. We walked for miles and passed a house.

The other me spoke casually, "You should change into something easier to move in."

I looked and noticed some clothes that had been forgotten on the clothesline. I grabbed a pair of pants and shirt, ignoring how wet they were. After changing, I continued on.

I walked from town to town for several days, overwhelmed by excruciating anger. The other me spoke, "Bertrams following you."

"I know."

"Are you going to stop him?"

"No."

"Why not? Do you plan on going back?"

I clicked my tongue, "He has his own free will. I can't stop him."

"Hey kid." A teenager stepped out of the abandoned alley, blocking my path.

I scowled at him, "Get out of my way."

He ignored me, "Got anything valuable in that bag?"

I spat at him, "F*ck off before I beat your a**."

A voice came from behind me, "He's a cocky little sh*t, isn't he?"

I looked behind me and noticed I was being surrounded.

The other me spoke, "Aren't you angry?"

They charged at me and tried to get at my bag. I fought back with all my strength. I punched and kicked. Dodged and hit. My rage gave me strength.

The cuts on my hand and wrist reopened from the fight, but I didn't pay it any attention. No matter how many times I was hit, I didn't feel a thing.

I was pushed against the wall in the brawl and felt a piece of wood at my feet. I quickly picked it up and pulled it back. As the teenagers charged at me, I beat them ruthlessly with the wooden plank, knocking them unconscious.

The last one charged at me with a knife. I dodged last minute and felt the blade strike my arm. But I wouldn't stop. With all my strength I punched him in the head. He fell to the ground.

I huffed in anger as I looked at the teenagers scattered around me on the ground. I picked up the pocket knife and gripped the handle.

The other me smiled, "Aren't you angry?"

My grip grew tighter.

"Don't hesitate. Do it. Make them suffer."

I clenched my jaw, "No."

The malicious grin on her face disappeared, "Why?"

"They are just kids."

"So? Aren't you angry? This will make you feel better."

I looked at the knife. Bloodthirsty eyes reflected in the blade. I grabbed my hair and cut it off with one stroke. I threw it on the ground.

"I won't kill children."

I continued my walk. The next day, I noticed someone. I ducked down into an alley. The other me was behind me, "Your parents are looking for you. That's one of their servants."

"I know."

She spoke in a mocking tone, "They seem to be really good at keeping things quiet. No one outside of the family even knows you ran away. Don't you see how much they care?"

"They have to keep up appearances. Their noble position has always been debated among the higher class. They probably don't want to risk their position by going public with this."

The other me laughed, "How sweet. Choosing a life of nobility over their own daughter."

I looked around coming up with a plan, "It's not like that."

She rolled her eyes, "Sure. So what do you plan on doing about it? They seem to know your general location."

"I will just have to go somewhere where they wouldn't dare to go."

"Where's that?"

"Across the border."