09:46 

55 - Holder of Haze

Escapexstacy
Don't say you won't die with me for we are one, we are the same.
Отчасти жизненная стори и исполнение мечты одного амиго с theholders о том, чтобы я написала про себя-как-Искательницу. Ну инжой, хуле там.

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@темы: Творческое

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2017-09-19 в 20:56 

Escapexstacy
Don't say you won't die with me for we are one, we are the same.
Ибо давно просят.

An old building covered with grape vines and iron gates. I feel like I know the way to this place better than the way to my house. Inside the yard, as far as I can remember, several same buildings. Such a quiet and calm place, like a parallel reality inside the huge city. Sometimes I feel like only I know that this place is like a swamp: once you got here, there's no way back and you won't be the same even if you manage to return. How many times and as who exactly I was there - I can't figure out any longer. But now matter how hard I tried to escape this place in all senses of the word, no matter which ways I used for that - all was in vain. Eventually, all my paths led me here.
The security near the gates looks at me for a while when I pass by. Feels like he's used to it- there's enough weird persons there besides me. And I, without paying attention, come to the door, move the vine aside, enter - and see the worker of the front desk. The nurse puts her papers aside and looks at me.
Yes. A mental institution. That's where I belong, that's where my true home is. It'll be easier there. They know me and they al least pretend that they're happy to see me, unlike the city I came here from. That's my true element, and I'll be sure to never ever leave this place.
"You? Hello there", she addresses me as if I was an old friend of hers. Seems like she remembers. But does she remember... some different kind of days? Does she remember herself guiding me through some endless mazes of corridors whish were not supposed to even be there, does she remember how her face changed after my weird requests to show me whatever Holder? Or was it not quite her? Better never even think.
"Yeah", I say and give her the passport. "Hello".
"You want to be here again? For how long?" she asks, put the pasport aside and forces herself to smile. I only sigh
"I hope forever."
I try to smile in a vain hope that the nurse won't take me seriously, but it doesn't work. She sighs heavily, looks at me with pity and points at the door next to her desk.
"Well, change your clothes. We'll get you back to your Department Two".
I nod in responce and go to the room she pointed at, close the door and begin to take off my clothes in order to change it to a white nightwear and some dull and almost washed out hospital robe. It's like a routine for me. I can't even remember how many times I've been there as a patient during this very year. Six? Eight? Maybe even more. And only three times I was here as a Seeker.
I wasn't an unprepared Seeker. Many urban legends I've heard, many people who actually came across them I've met. But somehow I feel like I'm unique. Everything they were afraid of - nightmares, meeting their own fears and even bad luck which could eventually lead to death - became like a drug and the only happy thing for me. I'm the only one from those who I;ve been with who's still here. What almost drove them insane, paradoxically only gave me wings. And now I'm here not because of reasons I've been here previously for six or even eight times.
I failed my trial. Something went wrong in the very beginning, and I had to flee. This institution for me is some kind of a haven. There the Holder won't find me. Such places are like homes for them, as well as their inhabitants. They won't hurt what's "theirs".

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