A Story by Ashley

He felt the schizophrenia pound through his blood, swimming fastly down his veins and body. He squeezes his eyes tightly, trying to ignore the voice screaming his name. "Let me out! I can't breathe!" the deep evil male voice laughed, teasing him. He opened his mouth several times to scream at the voice to shut up, but nothing but air came in and out of his lungs. He wanted to cry but no tears fell, nothing did.
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" his lungs finally allowed him to scream at the voice. His lungs loned for air to fill their empty void. His deep breathing made him faint and when he woke up, he didn't know where he was anymore. He didn't know that his name was Johnathan Miller, that he had a wife and a year old daughter and that he was 18 years old or that he was dead.
No one knows how he died or how his daughter was crying in his arms when his wife found him. No finger prints, no foot prints, no trace of anything. A healthy 18 year old died with no cause of death. A young widowed wife who never moved on, with a daughter who will get the schizophrenia passed down to her blood and so on. A family left alone with no clue how to live the world without Johnathan.

© 2015 Ashley

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Added on November 5, 2010
Last Updated on October 13, 2015
Tags: Brokencyde, Schizophrenia, Psychology, Short Story




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