Megan

When I was a little girl I had a friend named Megan. She was a shy person that liked her inner circle. All her life she had a bit of a paranoid side though. She would tell me stories of people calling her Claire or Sammy (Short for Samantha.) I was finding this hard to believe, but one day after school she took me around our small town to prove it. We went into a small farmer's market and took me to the head counter. She said hi to the boy who was working there, and waited for his response. He looked up from scanning items and said, "hello Megan." I looked at Megan and watched the life drain from her face. She rushed me outside and frantically pleaded for me to believe her. I of course did because that's what friends do.

Fast forward to about eight years later. I was now 15 and about to move once again. It was about 3 days from the big move, so I began saying goodbye. I was one my way see Megan to try and patch whatever friendship we had left after we just grew apart. I knocked on her parent's door and waited for an answer. Her father answered the door, and asked what I wanted. "Hi, I'm Jessie. I was Megan's friend a long time ago." He stared me down and let out a sigh.

"I remember you. What can I help you with?"

"Is Megan here?"

"You didn't hear" I looked at him with concern and he just asked me to come inside. he sat me down on the couch and started the tale of Megan. So here's the story;

After that day that Megan tried to prove to me people kept calling her by the wrong name. She went into a downward spiral of isolation. She became distant, and frigid. One day she was playing by herself when her mother was calling her to dinner. Megan didn't come. She called again. still no Megan. Her mother went into the room and asked Megan if she was alright. Megan was standing in the center of the room with a doll in each hand. Megan's mom called again, but this time Megan reacted. She threw her dolls at her mother and began to attack her. Megan's nails dug into her mother's arms and legs. Her mother was able to get her off and get her locked away in her room. Her father heard the news of what had happened, and rushed home from work at bookstore he owned. Megan's mother refused to go up and talk to Megan, so her father decided to go to her room.

That was when he lead me to Megan's old room. He opened the door unleashing the most horrific thing I've ever seen. Scribbled across the walls were the words; I'M MEGAN. He told me that when he entered her room that Megan was bleeding herself with some glass from her mirror that she shattered in a rage. The red lettering on the walls were her blood. She was writing with a black marker until her parents saw her writing with it on the wall and took her art supplies from her. I asked where Megan was now, and her father just shrugged his shoulders. Megan had been in and out of mental facilities across the country.

Now it was about four years after that talk with her father that I started looking into the truth about Megan. It turns out that her parents had many things done to Megan to try and help her. Drugs, therapy (where she attacked two therapists), even trying to enlist her back in public school (one fire and six were injured) and then one day, poof, Megan was gone until around the time I met Clive. Megan had ended up in a snake pit (an asylum) where she was considered a high risk patient that was to be restrained most of the day. They tried talking to her, but she only sings the same words over and over again, "My name is Jessie." And for the record I never went to visit her knowing it was the worst mistake.

Submitted April 27, 2019 at 02:49AM by Void_Whisperer http://bit.ly/2UJurei