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((Another one, first person, Ella's point of view. Again. : D This one's a bit weirder than all the other ones, so beware. ))
Maybe I was going crazy.
No, I know I was going crazy. I just knew it. Stuff like this couldn’t happen, it just couldn’t.
I hope I’m crazy, since if this was real, it would be a whole lot worse of a situation than if I was insane.
I stared at Sabrilyn, my cat, and shut my eyes tightly, hoping it would all be gone soon. Cats can’t talk, can they?
“Yes, I’m talking to you, Cinderella.” Sabrilyn said, and I just stared at her. “Well?”
“I’m crazy.” I said plainly, walking away from my cat. ‘You need help, Ella.’ I told myself in my head over and over, hoping that the feline would magically be normal once again.
Giving me no mercy, she padded along quietly next to me.
“You’re not crazy,” the black cat continued, and I was beginning to actually believe that black cats were a witch’s symbol and incredibly unlucky. “Not anymore crazy than everyone else you know.”
“You mean,” I looked down at her, and raised an eyebrow. “That I’m as crazy as Gibil, right?”
“No,” Sabrilyn meowed, her ears twitching. “You’re as crazy as your friend Tanya, for instance.”
“She cuts herself,” I mumbled, glaring at her. “She also calls herself emo, has hallucinations, and gets major headaches almost everyday. Oh, and smokes pot. A lot.”
“If I recall,” Sabrilyn responded, “You get a lot of headaches, and you use to smoke pot.” I swear, if cats could smile, a devious grin would be curled on Sabrilyn’s lips right that moment. The cat’s ‘I’m-so-sure-of-myself’ attitude really pissed me off, but then I just reminded myself—this is all just fake, all just a hallucination.
“That was only three times,” I protested, and I stopped walked entirely and looked at her. “And at least I use aspirins to stop the headaches.”
“Ah, okay then.” Sabrilyn whispered, beginning to rub up against my leg. “As crazy as your friend Chandon?”
“He’s suicidal, drinks, smokes, and smokes even more pot than Tanya, which is a lot.” I spat out, not knowing why I was sharing all my friend’s secrets with my pet cat.
Maybe I should just take a couple more sleep pills than recommended and kiss this world goodbye, I thought. I certainly had the supplies to be suicidal in any way—a tall house to jump off my roof, a pocket knife to stab myself, a gun to shoot myself, and all the pills in the world to take as an overdose. Yet still, that would make me suicidal, which isn’t that good of a way to die.
“Suicidal?” Sabrilyn hissed, flattening her ears on her head. “Dead yet, or unsuccessful at it so far?”
“He’s not dead,” I told her with a shake of my head, “yet. One time he got dangerously close, but I saved his life.”
“How so?” Sabrilyn asked, her ears now perked up in curiosity.
“I was returning a CD,” I explained, “and I found him in his room with a gun held to his head.” I sighed, and sat down on the floor. “I don’t get him, he’s always so nice, but… so different when he’s alone. Sometimes I wonder what goes through his head.”
“If I recall, you can be like that. Different when you're alone."
I glared at the know-it-all feline, and rolled my eyes. "How do you know?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"Last night I saw you crying in your room, eyeliner running down your face and everything."
"This... this isn't about me. It's about Chandon and why he's different around people." I said, crossing my arms. Though I hate to admit it, the cat was quite right.
"Maybe he’s afraid that no one likes him, at least, as a person.” My cat suggested, sitting down on my vacant lap. She was really beginning to get on my nerves now.
“What the ******** do you mean by that?” I asked venomously, pushing her off of my lap and glaring at her icily.
“Every single one of his close friends, you and Tanya, only think of him as a drummer—not a person.”
“Not true!” I exclaimed, staring at her in awe. It was true though, which is what bugged me the most. “You,” I pointed at her, standing up. “aren’t real! You’re just a side affect of too many pills, or something! Either that,” I closed my eyes tight, hoping that I would wake up from this nightmare before I could finish my sentence. “Either that, or I am completely insane.”
“Then you are insane.” Sabrilyn said simply, and my eyes flew open. I was still standing there, and my black cat was staring at me intently.
“I guess I am, then.” I said quietly, crossing my arms.
I woke up the next day, with a huge migraine. My vision was faulty, and I was so dizzy I didn’t even bother to get up.
“Hello again,” my foster mom chirped, prancing into my room without an invitation. “How are you feeling?”
“What do you mean by that?” I snapped, glaring at her. At least, I thought I was glaring at her—it’s sort of hard to tell what you’re glaring at when you can barely see.
“That was quite the fall you took last night,” she said, sitting at the edge of my bed. “To think, the doctors said you would be out for at least a couple more days.” I stared at then blinked. Was that all really just a dream?
“A couple more days?” I repeated, “How long was I unconscious for, then?” I sat up, and blinked groggily.
“Uhm,” she said, looking at the ceiling. “I think for a week, maybe eight days.” I choked on my own spit, and then gawked at her in disbelief.
“How did I fall?” I asked leaning towards her a bit more.
“I don’t know,” my foster mom said truthfully. “I just woke up and you were out cold on the floor with a huge bump on your head. The doctors said you took an overdose of something or other, and that’s probably what caused it.” I blinked, and rubbed my eyes.
“God,” I mumbled, laying my head down on the pillow. “I’m not taking any more pills, legal or not. All they cause is trouble.”
“I’m glad you learned your lesson,” she said with a cordial smile, and she stood up and exited my room.
“El?” Lizzy poked her head into my room, and I blinked and then smiled. She had a quiet Sabrilyn in her arms, which was a good sign that Sabrilyn wasn’t talking to anyone.
“Hi Lizzy,” I said; for once in my life I was glad to see the kid. “What’s up?”
“I thought you were dead!” she exclaimed, running up and hugging me. Despite the physical pain of that hug, I hugged her back happily.
“Nah, I’m not dead.” I commented with a small smile. “Just stupid. Cousin El’s gonna’ be all right, so don’t you worry your little head off.” Lizzy looked at me, and handed me an empty pill bottle. “I found this where you fell.” I looked at it, and read the label. Sure enough, they were mine.
“Throw it away,” I said coldly, rolling over and onto my stomach. “I don’t need any pills or anything to get through life.”
“Are you sure?” my cousin questioned, tilting her head to the side. “The doctors said that you really need anti-depressants or you might get worse.”
“Meh…” I said, sitting up and patting her on the head. “I don’t want those things anymore. I think I’ll handle without some stupid pills telling me how I should act, ‘kay?” I smiled. “Screw those doctors, they might go to college and waste their life there to tell kids that they have colds, or, in my case, that someone’s clinically depressed and needs some moronic pills, doesn’t mean that they know anything about real life. They only know about health, not about human emotions.” Lizzy blinked, and nodded, throwing the pill bottle into the trash can by her feet.
“I understand,” Lizzy began, “but I don’t at the same time. Why are you so happy and stuff all of a sudden?” I smiled.
“It’s a long story,” I mumbled, leaning across to pet Sabrilyn. “Not something I’m all that proud of, anyway.”
“Oh, okay.” Lizzy said, patting Sabrilyn on the head.
“How did you know I was awake now, anyway?” I questioned, looking up at Lizzy.
“That’s easy!” she exclaimed, rocking back and forth on her heels. “Sabrilyn told me that you were awake.”
“Told you? As in, with words?”
“Yeah, she said, ‘Lizzy, Cinderella’s awake now. You really should go and check on her.’ And I did.”
I looked at Sabrilyn, yet all she did was stare at me with normal cat eyes, without a single word.
“Let’s not tell anyone about this, okay, Lizzy?”
“Okay, El.”
With that, Lizzy was out of the room with Sabrilyn.
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