The experiments - Fearless
Willow trees“Dare you” they smile their teeth glittering. They act like synchronized, beautiful devils. Sweet dimples and round innocent eyes tell nothing of what is in the soul. “Come on! It will be fun.” My neighbours (well in a two mile radius); the Parson twins are egging me on, telling me to jump of my tree. I don’t know how they figured out that I spend most my time here, since I haven’t told anyone. Not that anyone asks where I go. “Alice no.” I tell the twin with the red t-shirt. “Please?” pleads Maya. She looks like a starving African asking for food. I grunt a little bit but agree. Why does it even matter? I don’t bother to ask though- they look to eager, I’m scared that if I stay to long they’ll push me off. The ground doesn’t look that far I think, that’s reassuring. I crouch down and spring. The last thing I see Is Alice’s face lighting up like a child on Christmas morning, whilst Maya’s eyebrow arched up and a smirk was planted firmly on her face. Then it was black.
I woke up oddly comfortable. My sofa bed wasn’t this cosy! It was lumpy I was outraged.
This was exactly like the king sized bed my mother tried to force upon me. I had to argue with her for ages; telling her I wouldn’t use it and what not. When I opened my eyes, my vision was fuzzy; all I could see were white walls, white furniture and white garments. My brain seemed to be completely slowed down. I yawned and turned my head and there sitting in a white chair, her lips pursed, was my mother. My father was there also holding her hand, a puzzled look on his face. Then as though he was whispering in my ear I heard “Why would she jump out of a tree? She can’t be depressed, we give her everything she wants, and she’s top of her class….has that friend Nora down the road…” Again with the wrong name, he could never get her name right. “Niamh, Dad, Niamh.” I tell him, my voice is croaky and it burns my throat to talk. His eyes bulge. What had I said? “What do you mean?” he whispers. He must be getting older than I thought. “Her name is Niamh, not Nora.” He looks a little scared, maybe I hurt his feelings. “Look, sorry-“I began to apologise but he cut me off. “H-How did you know what I was thinking?” he stammered out. “Er, did you not just say that? And I am not depressed.” Dad looked sideways at Mum and they shared a panicked look. Now mum’s high pitched voice screeching in my ear loud as ever “Hm…well I always knew she was a bit different. When should I make an appointment to check her out? As soon as we leave the hospital? Or next week?” I’m not mad! How dare my own mother want me to be checked out! I open my mouth to argue or throw an insult at her but I bite my tongue. No, I could throw them off the scent. Can I read minds? It is something that every child has dreamed of being capable of. I should have been happy, excited even, but all I had was this feeling inside me telling me I’d never be normal. Red hair, timid, freakishly large IQ, and parents who were extremely rich? Yeah no friends for little Taylor – lei, oh and not to mention my name. All the ‘popular girls’ called me Taylor- bee because I walk to class fast. Buzz buzz. So funny and original. Not. “Look honey, if there’s anything wrong you tell us okay?” “Yeah, okay.” I could tell she wanted to ask more because her lips were pursed in that same annoying way and her eyes were imitating an eagle. She decided to go for it “Darling, I really think we should make an appointment with a doctor-“I cut her off. Her tone was cruel and patronizing, so I acted “This is a hospital, why not now? What’s wrong with me?” I ask, I know the answer she thinks I can hear voices. Which I can. “Baby, like a psychologist, just to check you are okay.” Again, I hear her voice “my daughter mad! Jumping off a tree! Not raised right is what they will say at the country club! Only one child and Ida can’t even mould her into a normal child.” At least mum had forgotten about the whole mind thing for now, that is a huge relief. Dad’s ‘voice’ in my ear makes my jump I don’t have a clue why but I was not expecting his again. “My poor baby, broken ribs, cracked skull, leg fractured, bruised all over. She doesn’t seem to notice the pain. Did that nice nurse give her painkillers?” My dad at least is normal. “Are you okay?” he asks me and I tell him I’m fine and he then tells me in a careful voice what all was damaged. My mother looks over at me a swift hawk movement and moves her stiff lips to say the utter question I was dreading “So, how did your little accident happen?”