REVELATIONS

The room I'm locked up in is painted white with white curtains billowing around the windows. The bed is made with white bedsheets and a rumpled duvet lies in a corner as dejected as it's user.

That would be me.

I am putting on a white gown that hits just above the knees with a ridiculously long pair of socks drawn up my calves. The tiles are also white.

When you enter the room, you'll think it's that of an angel. You'll never guess it's that of a mad person.

Oh yes, I'm crazy.

Or at least that's what the people around me believes. I keep telling them that I am not. I only see and hear things that other people can't hear or see. That's not enough to label me mad.

But...they never listen.

Instead,they brought me here and locked me up,as if I were some animal.

A doctor comes to see me everyday. I have therapy sessions. They all want me to get well. The problem is, how can I get well when I was never sick to begin with?

All I want is my freedom and for them to stop visiting me. I hate it a lot when they do.. especially she. I hate her more than the rest of them.

She is a scheming liar,a betrayer. She fooled me for so long. They all did and now that it's too late to change anything,she wants me to accept her. Forgive her. Love her.

Can you imagine? She's despicable, I hate her so much.

Anyway let that aside. Currently,I am waiting for the arrival of the only person I like seeing- my older brother. He's not like them. He also did not know and when he did,was prevented from telling me.

Witches and wizards, the bunch of them.

The door opens and I look up from the book in front of me-, it's blank, mind you- and see that my brother has arrived.

He closes the door and turns to me.

"How are you doing? Anything out of the ordinary today?"

I smile and shake my head.

"No, not really. Did you bring what I asked you to bring?"

He nods and takes a seat by me on the floor. He then hands me a little black book and a pen.

"Thanks. This will keep me company while I am here".

"Layla, are you sure you want to do this?"

There is concern in his voice and worry in his eyes. I reach out and give him a little reassuring pat on the arm.

"Yes. The therapist said that perhaps all I need is an outlet. I'll write it out like a story. Anything I can't remember, I'll look it through the diary".

"Layla-"

"Don't worry, I will show them that I am not mad. And it will give me something to do".

"When will you start?",he asks.

"Today,as soon as you leave".

"Today is-" I cut him off:

"I know:her birthday. It doesn't matter anymore, does it?"

I open the black book and begin to flip through its pages. Then, I set it down firmly.

"Let me get going, I was on my way somewhere and decided to drop the things for you".

"Thank you". He gives me a quick hug and pats my back,"see you".

I smile again and bade him farewell. As he leaves and closes the door,I can hear the lock turning.

I won't be locked up for much longer.

I won't take those drugs for much longer.

No one will call me mad anymore.

I will write it out and perhaps, just perhaps,I will get closure.

So, my name is Layla Jibril and I am about to write the story of how everything came crashing down for me.

Or rather, the story of how I went"mad".