8 The hallucination and her fears

"You say I'm ready. But how do you know?"

I spoke a bit louder than I actually intended when I asked Dr. Smith that question.

The other party just literally told me that they are planning to stop my medication, so I could not help but get a little agitated by this news.

"Ms. Everdeen, we have been gradually reducing your dose and you have been doing fine."

Dr. Smith told me ever so calmly.

He was probably thinking by now that if he would try to speak some sense to me and make me see that they were all doing this for my sake, they would get me to agree.

However, I had my fair share of doubts that this would work. To be honest, I really did not think that this was a good idea.

"What if it starts again?"

Of course, I was skeptical and I did not bother to hide that.

I admitted myself to this mental institution on my own accord and now that they were telling me that they wish to discharge me. I could not be more against it.

"You mean the hallucinations?"

He asked me back and at this point, my voice could no longer help but raised an octave higher.

"What if they come back?"

The idea of cutting ties with the place did not sound good, in my opinion, because as I've mentioned earlier this place felt like home for me.

This was the only place on Earth where I felt closest to being normal.

"Well, there is no reason they should come back. In fact, there is no evidence of any ongoing condition at all. Though, you might experience some side effects as your body would try to adjust...."

Dr. Smith deliberately paused when he said that.

From how he sounded, he did not seem confident that I would like what he was about to say next.

I saw him hesitate. But after giving it some thought, he seemed to arrive at a decision.

Maybe he wanted to finally come clean to me. So he chose to tell me the things that I should expect during my recovery period.

"You might or you might not experience some withdrawal. Dizziness, headaches, diarrhea---"

Before my doctor could even tell me the rest of what he wanted to say, I already cut him off.

"So are you trying to tell me that I won't go crazy? But I might or might not end shitting myself instead?"

My eyes could not help but went heavenward as I thought how absurd that was.

"Hopefully not, but it happens."

Mr. Smith, on the other hand, tried to sound as positive as possible when he gave me that answer. But the awkward smile he has on his face betrayed him.

How could anyone expect me to have a normal life again after what I've been through?

I also wish I could just forget everything about that night.

But how???

Every time I saw the scar on my arm, I could not help but remember those ferocious claws. As well as the fear that made me shake like a leaf that night as they tried to break into my door.

As I closed my eyes at night, I remembered those violet eyes owned by the man who saved me.

Everything was vivid to me, as though it just happened yesterday. But if only the truth would be told, those were just the least of the things I am terrified about.

I'm scared that one day, I would wake up and realized that I lose my mind for good. I don't want to lose myself.

But as I grew older, I came to realize that my life could never be normal again.

At first, I convinced myself that it was just my eyes playing tricks on me. But as time passed by, my hallucinations came to me more often.

There were these times when I would cross the street or when I would get to meet random people for the first time, sometimes I would catch sight of them at my peripheral vision; it was all during different occasions.

Everything was fine and doing good. But then, out of the blue something inside would be triggered and before I knew it, I would see these 'people' in a different light.

They were mingling with other people like everyone else. However, they looked different.

In my eyes, they did not look like humans at all. Yet weird enough, it seemed that no one sees them the way I do.

These hallucinations of mine accompanied me in the most part of my waking hours.

But sleeping was not exactly a good option for me either. Because apparently, my dreams were nothing better.

In my dreams, I would constantly be tormented by my memory of the past.

At those dreams, I was left with no choice but to relive that night when I lost her parents; as well as how I ran for my dear life when my parents' doppelgangers ran after me.

I had to face that fear over and over again, but for some reason, I could not seem to get used to it.