He could hear the pebbles on the ground begin to shake as he walked down the street. The earth was calling out to him, the stones in the ground screaming above to him, only to him.
He looked around him, seeing the trees calling him, their branches making sounds, making noise... words.
He stood there, his secondary school so nearby, but he couldn't ignore the begging voices of the world, her stones, her trees crying out for him to listen.
"What do you want?!" He yelled back at the world, "Why are you torturing me?"
And then he could hear it, people's thoughts as they walked by. He could see in their faces, confusion and bafflement.
Is he okay?
Where's his head at?
What a disgusting teenager.
He closed his eyes, putting his hands to his ears blocking the sound. But it was then, the noise started to come from within.
You know you're the chosen one, a voice told him and he shook his head, you have all the power. Use it.
"How?!" He yelled and he felt his eyes direct him to the school building just a little away.
Run through the walls, you know you can.
The world cried out to him, people watching him. Their gaping eyes staring at him, egging him on to prove he was the one.
"NO!" He screamed and sat down, bringing his legs to him and rocking his body back and forth in pain, fear.
Coward, he heard the people's thoughts say.
"I'm. Not." He growled and slowly began to get back on his feet.
He stood before the wall, and with a sudden running start, he screamed as he collided towards it, being slammed back crashing into the cement ground.
It hurt so bad.
He lay there, the voices of everyone and everything swarming his mind. He yelled out for the world to cease, "STOP IT. STOP IT! STOP IT!"
Soon he saw himself being wrangled as two men put him into the back of an ambulance and he was driven off, kicking and screaming, to a ward.
He looked at the name of it as he entered the building, The Psychiatric Ward.
"I'm not crazy..." He said, as if the idea of it suddenly made sense, "I'm... I'm not?"
He soon found himself laying in a bed, looking up at the ceiling, his breathing having calmed down and he was to see the doctor soon.
They came for him and helped him to the office, a man behind a desk waiting to meet him.
"How do you know my name?" He asked.
"Your parents told us it."
"Why am I here in the CRAZY ward." He suddenly demanded, slamming his fist onto the desk.
"You're having a mental breakdown."
Mental, mental, insane, crazy...
All the voices rattled this off in his brain and he grabbed his head, slamming it to the desk and whispered.
"I'm not... I'm not... CR-RAZ-ZY!"
"It's okay, you'll get better." The doctor told him, "I promise."
Soon his parents came and asked him in his ward bedroom, "Charlie, Charlie, are you okay?"
"No..." He whispered, and looked them in the eyes, his own filled with pain, "They say I'm crazy."
"Whether you are or not, you are our son."
Did that make a difference?
It was weeks upon weeks he was there, receiving care, given anti-psychotics and medicine. He was numb to it all, but slowly the voices disappeared and he was becoming himself again.
It was the fifth week that he was allowed to go home.
He stood at the front bolted doors and soon saw the receptionist push the button to release it and let him leave.
His parents hugged him and he walked with a suitcase of his things out to the car. He turned back once more, to look at the building and heard a deep voice say to him.
Hope you come back soon...
He was not normal any more. He accepted that... but to him, it felt the world was the one going crazy around him. And he? He was the sane one trapped in it. For now... his mind was no longer his.
It was his enemy.