By Astitva Tripathi
It was a quarter past ten when Sylvia, preparing for bed, carried her
diary and pen to write her daily journal. Sitting on her bed, she wrote,
“Today, I saw a monster under my bed. It was black and had green
eyes. I heard the clanging of metal, someone screaming, and thudding
noises.” Finishing her entry, she placed her leather diary and pen in the
drawer and went to sleep. During her slumber, she dreamed of a mole
appearing on her hand and being hospitalized.
The next morning, Sylvia woke up at eight, had breakfast by eight-
thirty, freshened up, and got ready for school. Her father, a grim-faced
man of forty with a broad muscular build, scolded her for being late.
Sylvia, grappling with another episode of schizophrenia, felt a surge of
anger but kept it inside to maintain the peace she desperately sought to
preserve at home.
At school, Sylvia met Alex, her daily seat partner and best friend. They
sat together to finish their year-end project. Sylvia asked Alex to write
the preface and acknowledgment for her project. Alex, willingly set
aside his work to help. However, when their teacher noticed the
discrepancy in handwriting, Sylvia was reprimanded. Furious, she
clenched her fist and slammed it against the wall, an act that hurt Alex
more than it hurt her.
The school day dragged on, with Sylvia's anger simmering just beneath
the surface. She tried to focus, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the
monster she had seen and the unsettling dream. The feeling of being
out of control weighed heavily on her, but she was determined to get
through the day without another incident.
During lunch, Sylvia and Alex sat under their usual tree. Alex, still hurt
by Sylvia's outburst, was unusually quiet. Sylvia felt a pang of guilt.
"Hey, Alex, I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to take it out on the
wall,'Sylvia said softly.
Alex looked up, his eyes reflecting a mix of concern and something
deeper. "It's okay, Sylvia. I know things have been tough for you. Just...
try to talk to me next time, okay? We're in this together."
Sylvia nodded, feeling a bit better. They finished their lunch, and for a
moment, she felt a glimmer of hope.
However, things worsened in the afternoon. During her math class,
Sylvia heard the clanging noises again, the same ones she had written
about in her diary. Her hands began to shake, and she clenched her
fists to stop the tremors. The noises grew louder until she couldn't even
hear the teacher's voice. Desperate and overwhelmed, she decided
that she would end her life that day. She was done with her father's
scolding, the teacher's reprimands, and the relentless voices and
visions.
After school, she didn't say goodbye to Alex. She went straight to her
bicycle and rode to the nearest canal. Without hesitation, she jumped
in.
That’s when she woke up. Startled, she looked out the window and saw
there had been an accident at a nearby construction site. Turning to the
mirror, she noticed a mole on her hand.
By Astitva Tripathi
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