Sandra was in hospital. She was in hospital because, apparently, she had fallen, banged her head on  a table and fainted at her house in London; she was found by her sober mother. She wasn't seriously hurt; she just needed to stay in overnight for observation. First impressions would say that there was nothing wrong with her, but first impressions aren't always right, are they?

The atmosphere was quiet and serene. Sandra lay in her bed, motionless and unfeeling.

"Hello Sandra, how are you feeling?" asked the doctor kindly. Sandra didn't reply, she just sat in her bed, staring into space. "Sandra?" asked the doctor again. Sandra replied quietly that she was fine. The doctor nodded and, after checking her pulse rate and various other things, left the room. The main lights were turned off so that the only lights that were on were the lamps next to the beds. Sandra drew her knees up to her chest and looked around. A woman wearing a navy blue jacket and a black skirt walked past the room, catching Sandra's eye. The woman walked past Sandra and to another patient. Sandra eyed her suspiciously; she recognised her, she knew her, and suddenly a light bulb flicked on inside her head, Dr. Childs. She wanted to kill that woman, she really did. Dr. Childs sat down next to the patient and talked to him, and soon enough, she left, without even a glance at Sandra. Sandra was surprised that Dr. Childs didn't recognise her, but then Dr. Childs had probably done what she had done to her to many others, so why should she remember just one person? A plan was ticking through Sandra's shrewd mind; no-one could do what Dr. Childs did to her without some form of revenge. The patient next to her looked and her and smiled, but Sandra displayed no emotion, instead she stared into space, piecing her plan together. The lights outside were dimmed and there was an increasing absence of doctors within the vicinity. Smiling, Sandra climbed out of her bed and walked slowly towards the door, checking the corridor for doctors. The coast is clear. She thought cunningly, and walked towards the reception, seeing the entrance to the confidential section open, some stupid person left the door open, oh well, all the better for me. She thought, feeling unusually content at the time. She walked into the room and looked around for anything that might mention Dr. Childs. Sandra heard a doctor opening a door at the beginning of the corridor so she rushed to the door and quietly shut it. The doctor, oblivious to what was happening behind the closed door, walked straight past it and into what must have been his office. Sandra continued her search and a letter on top of a desk caught her eye; she picked it up and, surely enough, was Dr. Childs' name and address in the corner of the page. She smiled secretively and pocketed the letter. Carefully, she walked back to the door and opened it, taking care not to make too much noise. Once she had walked outside and closed the door behind her, she carried on walking down the corridor when the doctor's voice rang down the corridor, "What are you doing out here Sandra?" She froze. The doctor walked up to her and carried on speaking, "you really should go back to bed now, you're still under observation." Sandra walked into the quiet room and climbed back into her bed, drawing the covers up to her chin and a sly grin appeared over her face.

*                              *                              *

'Sandra's not only going to confront Dr. Childs, she's going to kill her.'

"No I'm not!" shouted Sandra.

'Oh yes she is, we know she is.'

"Leave me alone!"

'Ha. We wont leave her alone. She's going to chicken out, isn't she? Fell and banged her head on a table? What utter rubbish, she didn't fall, she knocked herself out on purpose, and why is that? Because she's a chicken.'

"Please stop…" moaned Sandra.

'She's out of hospital now. She's all alone, at home again so why should it matter? We're going to make her do it, she won't be able to stop…'

Sandra stormed out of the house with her coat, shoving some cash and Dr. Childs' address into her pocket, crying. Her mother was probably out at some club, getting completely drunk or high again. She ran to Wimbledon station, the nearest station to her where there were taxis. She ran across the road, nearly getting hit by a speeding car, and to the roundabout outside the station, still crying. She hailed a taxi and read out the address.

"Are you okay miss?" asked the taxi driver.

"I wish they would stop…" she muttered between her sobs. The taxi driver shrugged and drove out of the station.

*                              *                              *

"54 Ockendon Place. Twenty-five pounds forty-three pence please miss." Announced the taxi driver. Sandra paid the correct price and got out of the taxi. She stood in front of the house. Semi-detached, three floor, neat front garden… She's rich. Selfish more like. She gets money from other people's misery. Thought Sandra furiously. She pressed the doorbell; the jolly tune increasing her anger, and the door was opened by a rather jolly looking Dr. Childs.

"Good morning." She said.

"I've just moved in next to you with my mum," said Sandra quietly, noticing the removal van just leaving the house, "I just wanted to say hello and learn about my neighbour."

"Oh ok then! Do come in." said Dr. Childs gleefully. Sandra followed Dr. Childs into the expensive house and looked around her, somewhat amazed by the amount of furniture and collectables she had in her living room. "Do you want a drink?" said Dr. Childs, looking at Sandra suspiciously, "wait a moment… I know you…" Sandra nodded.

"You do. I'm the person," Sandra said, her voice gradually getting louder and louder, "The person that used to live a decent life before you  took my life away from me and locked me up… in that… place." Dr. Childs backed away from her slowly.

'She's cracking up again. She's going to kill that woman, she won't be able to stop herself.'

"You destroyed my life! How am I meant to get a job when I'm older with that in my medical records? How? I hate you, you, you, destroyer!" shouted the incensed Sandra.

"Sandra, it's okay. You can get some jobs with it on your medical record; your life isn't destroyed; you can still have a good life, you're on the road to recovery here." Said Dr. Childs, desperately trying to calm Sandra down.

"You think so? You don't deserve to live, destroyer, I want you to die, you will die!" Sandra cried, walking to an open door that was leading to the garage.

"Sandra, don't do anything silly, please, you can't afford to have anything more on your record!"

'Big mistake Dr. Childs, that was a bad thing to say, you've touched a nerve now. Your death is inevitable. Sandra's going to kill you.'

Sandra ran into the garage and picked up a can of petrol that was sitting next to the car and unscrewed the cap off viciously. She began to pour the petrol all over the ground in the living room and walked in an intimidating manner towards Dr. Childs.

"Please stop this Sandra…" cried Dr. Childs in fear, reaching despairingly for the phone. Sandra drew the petrol container back and the remaining liquid landed all over Dr. Childs. "Please stop it!" she whimpered, running towards the door. Sandra launched herself at Dr. Childs; calling her every name under the sun and forced the terrified woman into the garage.  Grabbing a packet of matches, Sandra opened the packet and lit a match. "Please don't do this Sandra, you will die too, you don't want to die, you would be wasting so much. Remember the time I got your IQ tested? You got an amazing score; you got one hundred and fifty-two, you are very, very gifted Sandra, you don't want to waste it, do you? Think of what you could do later in life, it's not worth it Sandra. I'll make things better, I'll help you to get a good job, please don't do this!"

'Don't listen to her, she's talking rubbish, you have nothing Sandra, absolutely nothing, left in  your life. Go on then, drop the match.'

"I can't drop the match, please stop telling me to do this!" shouted Sandra.

'Oh yes you can and oh yes you will, it's burning slowly, but it's ever so close to your fingers. She's going to drop it; she's going to burn down the whole house, she's going to drop it… NOW!'

The burning match dropped out of Sandra's hands and the fire blazed around her and Dr. Childs; who shrieked as the match was dropped. She grabbed Sandra's hand and tried to get her out of the house before it burnt down, but Sandra was rooted to the spot.

"Come on Sandra, come with me, you'll die if you stay in here!" she shouted amid the loud cracking of the fire. Sandra, however, did not move.  Dr. Childs ran out of the front door just as the ceiling and the back door caught fire. She ran to her husband's car, unlocked it, and took out his phone. Dialling 999, she saw the fire engulf the whole of the living and Sandra lying in the middle of the floor, unconscious. Her mouth fell open as the operator asked what service she wanted. "F-fire." She stuttered, just about managing to get the words out. Sandra was inside, hanging onto her last signs of life. The poisonous petrol fumes, the smoke and the heat were killing her. The voices ceased for the first time in eleven months, but no relief was felt. Her heart couldn't take it any longer; there was no oxygen to breathe in; the noxious fumes were all the room had to offer. Her heart beat it's last dying heartbeat and stopped.

*                              *                              *

"Sandra shall be dearly missed…" said the reverend solemnly. The atmosphere was a grieving and cold one, a girl so disturbed by her own illness was now dead.