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Fiction » Mystery » Indigo font: B s : A A A . width: full 3/4 1/2
Author: paper ink flowers
Fiction Rated: T - English - Mystery/Horror - Reviews: 16 - Published: 11-06-06 - Updated: 04-02-07 - id:2272549

in‧san‧i‧tyɪnˈsænɪti Pronunciation Key - in-san-i-tee

noun, plural

the condition of being insane; a derangement of the mind.


Some people find comfort in the simple things in life. Most commonly routine. When they find their comfort zone, they cease all occupation outside this particular area, to stay safe from the evil that lurks away from their sanctuary.

Then there are those that take this too seriously. They become scared, deathly afraid of anything that is different to them. Anything abnormal becomes a threat. A threat that, if destroyed, leads to perfect peace of mind.

“Indigo sweetheart.”

Indigo growled. Bestiality, she had discovered, was an excellent way to get people to leave you alone when you wanted to be alone with your thoughts. She would bite people that bothered her, if she was stupid. Violence, in her case, was never the answer.

Sadly, certain things failed to work on the versatile, orderly, near-invincible modern mother.

“Sweetie…” she said again, more insistently. Indigo, who was never one to persevere, gave up. She stared up at her mother with a blank stare she practiced in the mirror at home.

“What.” She hissed from the backseat of the expensive car. Her parents spared no expense on cars, clothes and botox injections, but would not give a cent to their reject daughter’s university fund.

“Were almost there honey.” She said with a sickly sweet smile.

And why do you care? Better yet, why do we care? Indigo’s inner voice, the one she baptized number one, said.

Indigo was fully aware of where she was going, why she was going there and how long she would be staying. The voices inside her head, although annoying, never told her to do stupid things, like jump off a bridge. Or kill anyone, although she easily could have without their help. They were friendly, as anything coming from one’s own mind would be. Rational, logical and ironically sane, the ideas that Indigo had accidentally molded into presences caused hardly any harm.

Since their apparition however, Indigo had the annoying habit of referring to herself as we.

They knew that Indigo was being sent to a madhouse that would keep her locked up until the voices went away. Which could take a very long time and Indigo did not like the idea of living in padded white rooms for the rest of her life. Even worse, surrounded with the insane. Considerably misanthropical, she disliked pretty much everyone. Not to say that she didn’t want friends. Maybe her anti social ten-year-old self created the presences to fill the void of non-existent friends.

The car screeched to a stop in front of a clean white building surrounded by forest and plants. The cobblestone paths lead from the parking lot to the door and curled through a garden and towards the woods.

“Now this is lovely!” Indigo’s mother squealed after stepping out of the car and taking a few steps in her expensive high heeled shoes. She turned to her daughter, still sitting in the car, and gushed happily. “Doesn’t it look wonderful?”

Wonderful for whom?

Indigo smiled bitterly and with a flick of her finger locked the car door. Her mother’s face fell when she noticed it, and looked nervously around her.

“Indy, get out here please…”

Indy? Are we really going to let her get away with that?

Indigo leaned over and locked the three other doors of the car. She pulled the keys from the ignition and jingled them in front of the back window, a singularly evil smile on her face.

When bestiality fails, killing your opponent’s ego works wonderfully.

Indigo snuggled down onto the seat with her notebook and placed an earphone in her right ear. She pressed a button and soon the loud music covered the sounds of her mother frantically knocking against the window. Taking a pen, she continued the essay she was convincing herself to write.

There are many ways how you can eliminate problems and obstacles. For those that find death a tad extreme, rendering someone mentally ill is an excellent solution.

“Indigo!” Her mother shrieked, manicured nails scraping against the window. Indigo raised the volume of her music.

Its amazing how easily human nature can be driven to insanity…

The noise outside stopped. Suspicious, Indigo looked up, and stared blankly at the man glaring at her through the window. He had dark eyes and black hair, and was dressed all in white. Beside him were two musclemen with security written on their shirts.

Indigo blinked, and returned to her writing. Not for long, as she was soon distracted by a loud thump beside her. She looked at the empty seat beside her in surprise, but nothing was there. She glanced back at her writing for a split second, then heard another thump.

The three men were still outside the window, swearing when the door wouldn’t open. Indigo slid over to the other seat and placed her ear on the back seat. It thumped again. She felt the top of the seat and pulled the lever that made the seat collapse to access the trunk. One final thump and the whole thing fell over.

“Who the hell are you?” Indigo said flatly to the boy that was previously sitting in the trunk. He looked up at her, amazed.

“I’d first like to say that you’re the first person that has ever done anything this funny when arriving here. Congratulations.” He grinned crookedly and stuck out his hand.

He had shaggy black hair that kept falling in front of his face, one blue eye and one green. He was wearing a baggy black t-shirt and jeans. He was barefoot.

Indigo mechanically shook his hand.

“What do you mean anything funny?”

“Well, to begin with you’re driving doc Valentino crazy. Which is great, because he is way too stuck up for his own good. And its been painfully boring watching all these half-dead crazy people show up. I watched that lady throw a fit from the balcony. Hilarious.”

“Right. And you are?”

“Name’s Peter.” He shook her hand enthusiastically. “I’m the closest thing to a veteran this place has ever had. I consider it my un appointed role to guide the newbies around.”

“Great. I’m enthralled.”

Peter grinned like a maniac, and closed the seat.

“You sound like it. Come on, lets go, the longer you keep them waiting the worse it will be later.”

“Like hell I’m going. My stupid mother thinks she can abandon me and that I’d go without a fight. Like hell I will.”

“Cool it, girl. You can throw as many hissy fits as you want later. In about thirty seconds they are going to break a window and throw in a gas bomb. You’ll be out like a light and when you wake up you’re going to feel like someone rearranged all your organs.”

“Ew.”

“No shit. I screamed my head off for a half hour and I woke up strapped to a bed. It was a week before I could be released.”

Indigo paused for a moment and observed in silence the men outside. And her mother that looked on the edge of a mental break down.

Our work here is done.

“Fine. But if anything happens I will hang your head over my fireplace.”

“Alrighty. Hurry up, I see an ax.”

Indigo unlocked the door and hopped out of the car gracefully, followed by the graceless Peter that tripped and nearly fell flat on his face.

“Ouch.”

“Thanks a lot, girl.”

“I have a name, you know.”

“Well, lets hear it.” Peter said as he wiped the dust off his pants and observed the three furious men approaching.

“Indigo.”

“Late Indigo.” Peter sniggered as a man grabbed a hold of her arm.



© Copyright 2006 paper ink flowers (FictionPress ID:416290).


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