Waves of aqua washed over me and calmed me instantly but faded away as quickly as they came. Suddenly, moonlight kissed my skin through the thick trees in a forest. My feet dug into the wet dirt with every step, and my hair blew with the wind. I knew it was cold, but the chill never touched my skin. Laughter filled my very being but died down when a scream echoed through the trees. My head whipped to the sound behind me to just see red. Not just any red—blood. My senses were overcome with hot, metallic liquid, then nothing. Aqua orbs stared into my soul, and I couldn't help but weep.

My vision returned to reality to see the nurse and other staff in white outfits staring at me on the ground. I tried to catch my breath because I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me. Reaching to my face, my shaky fingers caught the hot tears that were running down my pale cheeks. I swiped away my brown hair that clung to the wetness.

It happens every time, and every time, I am consumed by aqua-colored eyes and taken away from reality.

Dr. Carson calls it an extreme case of PTSD. I don't think it is because I've had it my entire life, even before the accident. When I was thirteen, my parents were killed in a car crash, along with my older brother. I was called lucky for surviving. The doctors said I was a miracle, but my life has been nothing but short of one.

I used to just have strange dreams until the car accident. It seemed I had an overactive imagination. After, I started having visions while awake. Dr. Carson calls it flashbacks, but these "flashbacks" have never happened to me. It's like I'm seeing through someone else's eyes. I tried to explain this to him, but he thinks my mind is masking the truth to protect me. That still doesn't explain him.

I have never met him before in real life. He has been in my dreams since I could remember. It's been a part of my life, and I didn't think anything of it until I was told I was mentally unstable. When the guy with the aqua-colored eyes and dark skin in my visions looks at me, I feel like I know him. I feel a pull towards him that I don't understand. This pull has caused people to think I'm mental. I swear I'm not, despite seeing things that aren't real.

Foster home after foster home couldn't handle a crazy, damaged teen, so I was finally put in a mental institution when I was fifteen. I've been here about four years, and every medication and therapy hasn't stopped this so-called PTSD. It's because I don't have a disorder caused by the horrible accident; I've had this strange issue for much longer.

The clicking of heels on the tile snapped my attention to the front of me; it was the god-awful nurse that liked to make my life a living hell.

"Claire, you were having another episode. You've had a few every day this week," she stated in an accusing tone as if pointing out that it's not right to have them.

As if I didn't know that.

The blonde nurse has been out to get me since I've gotten here. She looks down on me and treats me like I'm a dirty animal, my own personal Nurse Ratched.

"Yup," I responded, popping the 'p.'

I stopped trying to deny them as part of PTSD a long time ago. It only makes things worse. I've learned that if I just go along with everything, it goes much smoother.

Well, sometimes.

"Are you hiding your medication under your tongue again? This wouldn't happen if you took your medication. I'm going to have to call Dr. Carson and let him know of your recent episode." The nurse looked at me, irritated that she had to do something work-related.

I didn't want her to notify the doctor. I hated dealing with him and having to go to a meeting in his office.

"No, I didn't. I told you guys the last four years that your medication isn't helping," I snapped, burying my face into my hands. "I don't know why this has been happening more frequently."

I threw my hands in the air before slapping them back onto my knees and letting out a frustrated sigh. This happens every time they see me like this, and every time, they accuse me of not taking the medication. Then, they inject me with a tranquilizer, which I'm terrified of.

The nurse rolled her eyes at me and started dialing her phone. "Dr. Carson. Claire Fields has had another episode... Yes, she says she has been taking the medications... Yes, sir. That's what I had in mind...mhmm...bye."

The nurse whipped her blonde ponytail as she turned around. I knew what was happening. They would tranquilize me and then take me to Dr. Carson when he was available. As I predicted, the blonde nurse returned with two other male nurses and a syringe. She looked down at me with annoyance.

"There is no need to give me that. I'm not being hostile or fighting you. I will just go to Dr. Carson," I tried to reason with them while putting my hands out in front of me.

I've tried to talk it out with these people, but it never works. They never listen. They just look at me like I was crazy. Panicking, I scooted backwards and looked around the room. Since coming to the institution, I've been terrified of needles.

"The more you try to struggle, the worse it will be for you and us," one of the male nurses stated.

Tears formed in my brown eyes, clouding my vision. This part always made me feel the same way. I try to be strong in this place, but it's hard when you are alone and defenseless. I don't like them to see me as weak, but it's hard to keep it together after so long. Each passing day has made me feel like I'm starting to actually go insane.

"Please, don't do this. Please! Not again," I begged, kicking my legs to push me away from them.

The dreams come when they put me out, and lately, they have felt even more real, so real that I sometimes wake up with marks that make me seem like I'm hurting myself.

Some of the other patients were staring, while others were catatonic. I screamed, beckoning for one of them to help me, but none of them came to my aid. They were the real crazies. I was just an innocent girl put in here because I lost my family.

The male nurses grabbed me by my arms and held my legs down so I would stop kicking them. Panic began to set in from being restrained, causing my heart to pound in my chest. The blonde nurse bent down in front of me and met my gaze. Her lips were flattened into a thin line.

I hated this lady so much for putting me through this torture.

"Don't worry. It will only hurt a little bit," she said in a cold tone before jamming the needle into my thigh.

I tried to fight the darkness like I always do, but it was no use. My eyelids began to feel heavy, and my body became weak. I felt the guys pick me up before everything went black.