I AWOKE TO THE SOUND OF CRYING. It was a sad kind of weep, the kind of cry you'd make when the doctor announced your loved one deceased. I was confused about that. The only other sound was the beeping of what I think is my alarm clock. Why was someone crying in my room—wait, who is in my room?! I tried to pry my eyes open, but a sharp pain made me groan and squeeze them even tighter.

Now that I think of it, I can't move my body at all. I tried to move my arms, my legs, hell, even my head but all the response I could get was a wiggle in my toes. The crying stopped when I could make slight sounds with my mouth, trying to form the words 'wake me up' but could only groan. I've never had sleep paralysis before this and I can see why people are so terrified of it.

Why does this feel familiar? The feeling of not being able to control my body. Maybe it's some kind of déjà vu—

Oh no. Oh God, no. Please tell me that was all a dream. Tell me I didn't run through the woods with Sadie and please tell me that a real-life flower did not ink my skin?! All of it, like panels in a comic, came back to me one by one. The memories of losing Sadie, finding her and then finding that flower. Why had I been so stupid and walked towards the damn thing? Why didn't I think rationally and run away for dear life?

It all makes sense now. The crying, the beeping. I can remember last night as clear as day, just as if I happened only seconds ago. I passed out in the middle of the woods, Sadie there by my side. I can bet that I was out there (as far as my consciousness knows) for forty minutes. That is way longer than needed to walk the dog. Mom must've called the police when she noticed I took longer than usual on my walk and found me.

I could hear mom gasp. "Baby?! Are you awake?! Oh my God, nurse! She's woken up!" I winced at the loudness in her tone. God, nobody likes to wake up to yelling, and I, even as happy as I am to know she's here with me and that I'm out of those forsaken woods, wished that she'd kindly be quiet.

I could finally feel my eyes opening. They peeled open slowly and was instantly blinded by the bright ceiling lights. I groaned, turning my head away and squeezing my eyes shut yet once again. As I struggled to open my eyes without crying, mom was patting my shoulders and encouraging me to wake up fully. I can hear the sadness in her tone, the throaty sobs and squeaky yells. I was filled with a sense of guilt.

I must have worried her so badly. Her and Lizzie. I'll have to apologize soon or else the guilt will probably eat me inside out. I hate when they worry about me like this, to the point of turning their lives around 160 degrees. Mom is very busy these days by handing two jobs to keep up with me and my sister. I know she doesn't have the time to deal with me, like staying off her job for even a few hours. And Lizzie, well, I just don't like the idea of making my little sister cry for my sake.

I opened my eyes and looked mom dead in the eyes, my face sad. "Sorry, ma... didn't mean to make you worry," I said and already felt like crying when I saw her eyes tear up. "And I'm sorry you had to stay here to look after me." I cringed at myself, feeling horrible. I adverted my eyes, readying myself up for a lecture.

But she never gave me one. I could hear her inhale and exhale gently before she spoke. "Genevieve Annamarie Paris, it's a mother's job to worry about her children. Don't you ever feel sorry about these kinds of things and do not bring up my job, sweetie. I have everything handled. You just worry about yourself, yeah?" She gently stroked the hair in my face behind my ears, looking down at me like I was a million dollars. Relief drove the guilt away and I relaxed against her hand, enjoying the warmth of her hand and warmth of her motherly heart.

She really is the best mom ever, I concluded in my thoughts. She was always there for me even if my dad couldn't. I don't care about him, though. All I need is my mom, sister and Sadie. I don't know how mom can't put up with me. All I ever do is cause trouble for her at school and I'm the most scatterbrained person in the entire world. But she's always been patient with me.

A question dawned on me. "Mom?" I asked.

She looked towards my direction, a worried look on her face. "Yes? Are you okay? Need me to call that nurse? 'Cos she sure didn't come when I hollered for her earl—" I felt like laughing at her overprotective speech. She was asking a million questions a second.

"No, no! I'm good, just wondering how long I've been in the hospital?" It couldn't be more than a few hours at most—

"Two days, sweetie. You had me worried sick." I felt my eyes bulge out of the sockets. She has to be kidding me. Two effin days asleep? How did I sleep for two days straight?

Probably noticing my confused face, mom tried to comfort me but before she could even get the words out of her mouth the door opened. Both of our heads looked towards the door, eyeing the newcomers like deers caught in headlights. They were police officers, both men and very stern looking—much like you usual dad would look like if I'm honest. They gave me a pitiful smile before turning to face my mother.

"Miss Paris, if you could please leave the room for a few minutes while we question your daughter, that would be great. It'll only take a few moments of your time." He spoke professionally, his features as firm as ever. Mom gave me a sideways look, questioning me with her eyes if I was okay with this. I nodded, not really caring if she stayed or not. I would have to tell her what happened anyway. She gave me a kiss on the head before leaving the room.

Now, I'm all alone with two strangers. Not that they're dangerous because they are in fact, police officers. The officer who didn't speak a single word stayed put by the door as the vocal one walked towards my bed, his hand reaching for a pen in his pocket and notepad in the other.

Oh shit, I tried to hide my panic, what am I going to say? I can't just tell them a rose caused all this! Oh shit, oh shit...

I guess I'm just going to have to lie. Not lie about the whole thing, but a little lie here and there wouldn't hurt anyone. Not like they'd believe me anyway. Who in their right mind would listen to my story and be all 'ahh gotchu, happens to everyone'?! Literally no one.

But, the little angel on my shoulder murmured, I would be lying to the police. That is bad, that can get me in jail for a few nights. And that goes on my record. How can I expect to get a good job when they find out I was in jail before?

Think, Genevieve, it's either a fifty percent of jail time or a hundred percent of nuthouse time. I think I know the better choice here.

The police officer stood next to my bed now. He clicked his pen and steadied it on his notepad, ready for my side of the story. "Alrighty, Genevieve, can you tell me what happened. The whole story and don't leave out any details—anything will help find who did this." I froze. They think someone did this to me... and what exactly happened to me in the first place? Did the flower poison me?

I shook my thoughts. Focus on the police officer and then I'll deal with my own problems. Talking to the police was one problem checked off my list.

I cleared my throat. "Well, I was walking my dog around the block like I usually do. It was dark out and nobody ever goes out that late where I live on weekdays so I wasn't worried about anything," I stopped talking for a moment, looking at the officer and seeing him nodding me on to continue. So I do. "and Sadie started acting weird and the next thing I know she's running to the woods. I chased after her, got lost in the woods. I found her in an opening in the woods, put her back on my leash, and that the last thing I can remember."

When I was finished talking and he noticed that I wasn't going to continue my story, he seemed conflicted. "Okay, but can you remember how you passed out and or how you came about having digested some type of harmful toxin?" What? Since when did I eat or drink something toxic? Oh, maybe he's talking about the rose. I did feel like I was dying. Maybe this all isn't so insane after all, maybe I should just tell the police what happened in full truth. Just leave out the part about being under hypnosis.

I acted like I recalled something out of the blue. "Actually," he leaned in, pen ready to write, "I remember touching some kind of... flower? I can't remember clearly but it made my hand burn and after that, I must have passed out." I finished, leaving out any fantasy-like parts as possible. What I said is all true, just not the full truth.

The police officer (whose name I learned was officer Drake by looking at his tag) nodded. He seemed to be racking thoughts and questions in his head, putting pieces together.

"Must have been some type of poisonous plant. Do you have any allergies?" He asked. I nodded, remembering the day I almost died from an allergic reaction.

"Yeah, peanuts. But that's all." God, am I glad I'm allergic to peanuts, too. I hate the taste and texture of anything peanut buttery. The time I almost died of a reaction to peanut butter why because my friends thought that I just hated peanut butter and wanted to prank me with putting recess pieces in my ice cream. Imagine their surprise when I starting choking on my spit and turned blue. Yeah, they were mortified.

Officer Drake hummed. Clearly, to him, there were pieces of the puzzle missing. But this case will just have to go cold because there was no one there with me (I think?) and hopefully I was just mad off my mind from worry and imagined the whole thing.

"Okay, final question. Was there anyone there with you? Did you see anyone at all?" I blanked out, remembering the scary figure of the mysterious man in the playground. Sure, he was creepy and all and seemed like a total creeper, but I highly doubt that he was there when I was being freaking consumed by a plant. There was no one there other than Sadie.

Sadie! Is she okay?! I pray that she stayed with me the whole time I was there and that mom found her and took her home safely.

I decided on telling him that I did see someone earlier on my walk. Before I spoke, I shook off any thoughts of Sadie so my voice wouldn't quiver. "Yeah, I did. I couldn't see their face or anything because it was really dark but there were at the playground near my house. Kinda creeped me out and I went to walk home but that's when Sadie ran off." I added sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck at my foolishness. All of this trouble just because I can't walk a dog. Wow.

Officer Drake clicked his pen and put that and his notepad in his pockets. I silently rejoiced in my head, beyond happy that he finally decided to complete his interrogation. By what I would guess, he might pin this all on either an allergic reaction or that strange guy I saw. I would at first glance say he has absolutely nothing to do with me whatsoever but, now that all of my memories are coming in one by one, I can't help but wonder if that figure is the one responsible for the voices. Maybe that was just all in my head—hell, I might be demented! How could that all possibly happen?!

Drake smiled at me. "Thank you for your cooperation, miss. I hope you have a pleasant day." He waved at me, smiling still. The brightness in his smile almost made me shiver. He then walked over to the door and whispered a few things in the other officer's ear—something too inaudible for me to hear—and left without another word.

Mom stumbled in the room with a worried expression. Oh God, more questioning. "What happened? What did they ask? And what the hell happened to you two days ago?!" Finally, she asked the most important question. I was wondering when she'd break and finally ask me. She is usually nice about space and allowing myself to choose the right time to tell her things, but I knew something like me going missing for a complete two days was not on her list of waiting.

I smiled at her, trying to ease down her worries. If I seemed happy, then she would relax more, its common sense with things like these. She did calm down a little bit, her expression not as anxious yet still worried. She's constantly stressed these days and I bet I made it a gazillion times worse.

"Calm down mama!" I laughed, trying to lighten her up. She didn't smile or laugh with me, just stared me down like the mother she is looking for answers. So, I sighed. "The police were just questioning me like protocol—nothing special, okay?" She nodded and made a gesture with her hand for me to continue. "And about the accident, I'll tell you it in the car. I am leaving, right?" I questioned, suddenly filled with dread with the thought of having to stay here any longer. I hate hospitals—always have since I was little—and I sure as hell ain't staying here overnight. Even though hospitals smell good, they don't feel the same.

She smiled. "Yes, you are. I know how much you hate it here so I'm taking you home. The doctors suggested that this experience may be traumatic but you should be good. You will tell me if you start to feel weird?" She asked but if you asked me, she seemed to be stating more than asking.

I knew better than to say no. So, I nodded softly. Truth be told, if I started feeling... paranoid or anything, I probably won't tell her until it starts to get bad. But I'm okay right now so I should be okay later on, too. Mom clapped her hands together in a happy manner, probably thrilled to have me back safe and sound.

Mom threw her arms around me and squeezed me as hard as her strength would allow. I coughed and attempted to leave her bear hug but the more I struggled the tighter it got.

"I'm so happy you're okay. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you, Genevieve." She whispered in my ear. Her whisper sounded sad and stressed like she needed a really good rest. Which, I will give her. As soon as we get home I'm putting her to bed because I know she hasn't slept. It was painfully obvious by the bag under her eyes and her listless looking eyes. I really, really hate seeing her so down and stressed--she deserved nothing but the world but all she ever does is waste her life and dreams away by taking care of me and working her ass off at an officer where everyone hates her.

I watched as she smiled happily through tears and ruffled my messy locks of brown hair. Through her pale and stress-stricken face, I could see her genuine happiness.

Well, I guess to her, I began to think, watching her frail around frantically to pack my things up, her life isn't so bad. That's a mother's personality for you.

Mom stopped shoving things into a plastic bag to look back at me, her eyebrows arched. "I know you might feel tired and all, but don't expect me to carry your ass outta that bed missy. I'm bout as weak and frail as granny." She laughed, urging me with her hand to get out of the bed and into some clothes she brought me from home. I laughed, too, and got out of bed.

I felt a cold breeze on my back and flushed, hands going to bring the hospital gown down. Mom snickered and shook her head. "S-Stop laughing..!" I managed to say through a stuttered voice. "I... hate hospitals..." I said, grumbling. Mom all but laughed and muttered some words to herself before handing me my clothes.

I gladly took the clothes, snatching them out of her hand and quickly making my way to the bathroom in the room. I seriously hate these dumb clothes, why do we have to wear such embarrassing pieces of cloth?!

'I think it's due to the fact that doctors and nurses can have easy access to the patients said body.'

"Ahh, okay." I nodded my head, hand on my chin in understanding. But still, it's so weird to walk around practically naked—

Hold up.

I stopped moving, the process of putting my shirt on frozen completely with shock. What the hell was that? The same feeling of running up the stairs after switching the lights off entered my being and I quickly pulled my shirt over my head and looked around the restroom. It's empty, as expected. If it's empty and no one else is here then who the hell just spoke?!

'That would be me.'

I screamed, accidentally throwing my jeans in the air and knocking over the hand soaps on the sink. My mom immediately came to my rescue, knocking on the door repeatedly and asking what happened. I know that I talk to myself sometimes (maybe a little too much...) but there is a thin line between inner thoughts and fucking voices in you head!

Mom continued her barbarous knocking until I finally answered. "I-I-I'm fi-fine... there was an, uh, s-spider!" I stuttered, trying my best to sound believable even though just a second ago I screamed bloody murder. I do have an irrational fear of spiders, though. She sighed and told me to quiet down before the nurses think she abuses me. I would have laughed if not for the fact that I'm literally going insane.

Just as I start to feel saner, here come's miss schizophrenia! I sighed deeply, running my pale fingers through my matted hair in stress. I can't believe my luck these past few days, it's gone completely off the charts by now. First, Sadie acts weird and runs off into the woods. Next, I get freaking hypnotized by a goddamn flower, and to top that off, that flower printed itself onto my skin and now, this voice in my head?! I think I need to get on some medication, after all.

Thinking over all of the events again, I suddenly thought of something. I don't know why I didn't think of this before or how the thought completely went over my head. The rose. The tattoo. That's how I can tell if I'm either going insane or everything else is going insane.

I'm quick to roll up the sleeve of my sweater I recently put on. My hands trembled on the fabric, not liking the idea of the possibility of seeing a rose imprinted on my hand. As jittery as I was, I somehow managed to roll up my sleeve some. My eyes widened and a sudden wave of dread washed over me as my eyes slowly, yet anxiously, fell upon the small lines of green. These lines of green had thorns on them, and I knew that my hopes were for nothing.

Vines. At the bottom of my hand, near my fingers, were a bunch of strangled vines. Of course, I knew what would follow these vines. Pulling my sleeve up further, I wish I could say I was surprised at what I saw.

It was just as I thought. From my palm, all the way up to my mid-lower arm was a tattoo of a rose. The rose lied against my skin, bright with colors, and taunting me with it's mystery. It seems so, how do I say this without sounding plain out mental... old. Yeah, that described it perfectly. Although it is as colorful as a rainbow, it looked like I've had it for nearly years. No redness of the skin and no itchiness, either. Kind of like those childish water tattoos I used to get as a kid. An idea popped into my head from that thought.

I walked over towards the sink and wet my hands with soap and water. Then, I brought my right hand (the one not accompanied by the tattoo) and started to rub my skin. As harsh as I was, if this was a fake tattoo then it would have definitely come off by now. But it never did. Not even a tiny bit did the tattoo peel off. So, it's as real as day.

How wonderful, I scowled within my head, my dumb humor masking my utmost horror. Tears welled up in my eyes, fogging my vision like a window against a downpour. This isn't good. None of this is actually happening, it can't be! Right? There is absolutely no way in hell that a flower sunk itself into my skin like a tattoo. There is no way someone is talking in my head.

'Actually, there is someone talking in your head. That's me.'

I think I'm going to be sick.