i roll my eyes, shake my head and let out a deep sigh. "no dad... she was there. just because you didn't see her there doesnt mean that i'm just 'crazy and making it all up in my head'" i snickered.   but does it? "im so tired of being judged and treated like some kind of fragile phsychopath. thats all you see when you look at me, you dont even know me anymore.. you don't even try. you leave that up to all of my councelors, and ****** therapists" i shake my head in frustration "i'm not crazy" i say, almost as if i'm trying to reasure myself. "charlotte... i, i dont know what to say." my father is lost for words and completly and utterly broken. "i've always just wanted what was best for you and your brother but somewhere along the line i must have failed you" i stare into space, nearly bursting into tears. i've never felt this guilty in my entire life.

my father sighs "it is terrible, all of those people have lost their homes now... we should be thankful that we have a roof over our heads and clothes to put on our backs, im sure that all of rheir belongins were damaged in that fire." i nod sadly. he has a devistated look in his eyes, my father cares deeply for others. hes very sensitive and things effect him alot more than others. i guess thats where me and charlie got it from, because now i have the same devistated look in my eyes. "did you see the little old woman with the pink nightgown on?" i question. "she looked so lost."
"no, i didn't see an old woman." my father replys with a look of confusion, devistation, and concern. "how could you not see her? she stuck out like a sore thumb." i sadly reply. "she kept watching us..."
"charlotte." my father turns and looks into my eyes, his voice is calm but very serious and stern and he looks shocked and bewildered "there was no little old woman."

i sit in the passenger side of my dads old beat up chevy. it's early october and the rain is pooring down hard, i will be 18 soon. my fathers eyes widen and he stretches out his neck as we stumble upon a burning building. "looks like there must have been some kind of accident." he says sympatheticly. there are fire trucks and ambulances. people surround the building in tears, some wrapped up in blankets, and some hugging one another. but there is one woman who looks very lost, and out of place. she stares up at the building in confusion. her hair is very long and itlooks as if she hasnt brushed it in weeks. her skin is very pail and she wears a pink nightgown, covered in flowers. she looks very feeble and fragile, and as if she might be in her laight 80s. "she didnt make it" someone in the crowd crys out.  the woman stands out, like she's in a fog. and the crowd doesnt even notice her presence as they console one another. the woman turns and looks at me and my father as we slowly drive by. her stare is eerie and unsettling. something about her presence makes my heart feel heavy. and i can't seem to shake the feeling even after she is nolonger in sight. i look back at her, and she's still watching me.  i raise an eyebrow and turn my head back around and sigh. "how terrible."

i am in a steele cage, the bars are cold and rusty. the cage is surrounded by barbed wire. i can hear a man hysterically laughing in the distance. but i cant see him,it's dark and i am surrounded by fog. where am i?   the laughter is sadistic and malicious. i grab the bars and pull them as hard as i can the barbed wire digging into my palms, i begin to bleed. i try to scream but nothing comes out. my eyes widden with fear. and the laughter gets louder. like it's taunting me. i begin to cry and i open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out and i begin to cough up blood. blood spills from my mouth like a horrifying flood and i stare down at my ******, trembling hands in terror. suddenly i see a face make it's way out of the fog. it is a man with dark shoulder length hair and a beard. he wears an army jacket, old tattered blue jeans and black work boots. his stare is cold and blank. and i feel like his souless black eyes are slowly ******* the life out of me. he laughs in my face and i cover my eyes in terror.

i awake in shock. my heart races, my hands shake. i still feel like i'm in the nightmare. i take a deep breath and close my eyes. letting out a deep sigh.

paranoid chapter 1


Charlottes p.o.v

i cry until im sick, coughing and short of breath. i cry hysterically. i feel like i have been hit in the chest with a stray bullet. and i dont look up until i can't feel him there anymore. eventhough i know deep inside that the illousion of charlie will come back, it always comes back... nomatter where i am. busses, street corners, asylums. mom and dad think that if we move far away that everything will change. that i'll stop seeing charlie. that i'll be 'miraculously cured'. that they'l finaly have there daughter back. and that they will finaly be able to move on, and stop grieving the loss of their only son. i don't blame them, everything in the old house reminds me of charlie, too. but i know that when we move that nothing will change, that theres no hope for me, that i'm just as dead as he is. but thats not what hurts the most. what hurts the most is knowing that i'm going to let them down, and destroy any little bit of hope that they might have had for me. i am nothing but a burden. and there is nothing that i can do about it. i cry until im tired, and i slip into a deep sleep.

I wonder if you knew
the faces you were making
when you saw your dead sister.

Falling in love taught me more
about faith than any priest ever could.
When I look at you I know
all the ways my soul touches the earth.
I look into the mirror and see my eyes,
so old and deeply grounded,
yet with roots shy of twenty years old.
I am wrinkly hands and impulsive actions,
I am missing teeth and the belief in the tooth fairy,
I am the wilting rose and the shiny dew-coated seed.

If time is a concept based upon
distance, then my soul is
as old as the distance between me and you.
And I can dive deep down in my pockets,
and pull up, in my hand,
all the worlds I loved and lost you in.
And I can swim 10,000 leagues
under my anatomy, and pull up,
from my gut, the feeling I know
to be true when I see you.
And I can't tell if the lesson I
am meant to learn is that I need
to stop loving you, or that I need
to love myself more than I love you.

But when you tell me to give up on you,
the hair on the back of my neck stands up;
no, no, no, it's not supposed to be this way.
And it is with jagged fingernails and red lipstick,
that I dare you to prove me wrong,
but all you do is smile,
and give me less reasons to miss you,
and more reasons to cry,
and more doubt to drink in,
and less hope to have,
and, finally,
another life in which I loved and lost you.