Delusional Therapy: Difference between revisions
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(Created page with "My story starts 10 years back. I was only 12 and quite happy. I’ve loved my age, home, and everything about that moment in time. I had many friends, always being supported, and applauded. It was the morning, close to the afternoon. I was in my backyard helping my dad with day to day chores. It was getting colder and my dad told me to wait for him inside the house. As I decided to follow my father’s guidance, I noticed something… A van was pulling up right beside th...") |
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My story starts 10 years back. I was only 12 and quite happy.
A man stepped outside; he looked around and went to the back of the house. I decided to forget about it, but still something seemed unsettling. Sometime later I was eating dinner; my dad finally came in to join me and my mother at the table. I was about to finish up my dinner but suddenly I heard the police sirens outside my home. A knock at the door, my dad answered it. A large burly police officer was standing at the entrance of my home. He showed my dad a few pictures and documents which seemed uninteresting and unnecessary. The officer left, and my dad closed the door.
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He told me to go to my room; I told him I was old enough to understand if something was wrong, or inappropriate. He grabs the back of my collar and told me to go to my room once again. As I was heading up the stairs to my room I heard sobbing coming from my mother from the kitchen. I decided to ignore this, like I always do when my parents get in a fight, or some type of conflict. I thought that if I went to sleep that all of it would be forgotten. Still as I was 12, I wanted to know what happened. Did a murder occur? Could it be a wild animal? God knows what I was thinking back then.
The next morning I woke up. Everything was sullen and quiet. I looked through the window in my bedroom which was facing in a northern like direction facing our
I could sense she was waiting for me.
I came closer and she told me that there was incident last night at our
Why? I
The phone rang three times before someone picked up.
There was no answer; I could barely hear breathing from the other end. Suddenly I heard my friend John laughing. I looked outside and saw him walking right past the van. As I listened once again to the breathing inside the phone, it suddenly hung up. Then I saw my dad drive up, here to pick me up. I hopped in and pretended that nothing had happened.
The van
I decided to call the police, for it was the only logical solution for me at that moment. I tried it 9-1-1. No answer. I was confused. How could the police not pick up their phone? Then I realized that our lights and phones were cut off. I figured it out by trying to turn on the light in my room, I flipped the switch and nothing changed. I made sure every door was locked. I decided to get some sleep and hope my dad would come back from wherever he went. It was a long time before I woke up, I heard something. I got up.
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I looked through my blinds and the van is still there. And I notice no one is inside it. A door opened on the bottom floor, sounded like it was coming from my backyard. I hid underneath my bed; it was barely big enough to let me squeeze inside. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs headed for my room. Large boots were pounding the floors. I looked through the small crevice between the cracks in the wood of the bed frame. It was someone very large. I felt nervous, even horrified. I was probably as scared as a man waiting for his execution. Because I thought I was going to die. There was no way out.
He left the room and picked up something and lifted it onto one of his shoulders. It looked like something was inside of
I felt a cutting sensation on my arm.
I looked down and saw I was wearing a straight jacket. The only thoughts that were rushing to my mind were, why? I saw an entrance; it too was surrounded by foam. I heard something on the outside, someone coming down a hallway, or maybe it was a corridor, I
I was scared, but did what they told me to do. I walked with them passed a passageway full of screaming, and pleading. More and more people were looking from their cells pleading to let them out, and that they
Then all of a sudden, I blacked out. I woke up in this very room. Paper, pencil, and an eraser what was not to get. I picked up the pencil and wrote my story down, just as
The room
{{by-cpwuser|Ddvo|date=November 29, 2012}}
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