With Open Arms

In a dimly-lit room inside a mental institution, a faint and feminine voice cracked.

“I know why you are here.”

In her room, Jeanine had no one to respond. Hell, even her consciousness was barely in the room.

Jeanine did not curl up on the bed. She did not tremble or groan in reluctance. She watched her imagination form on the blank walls.

“Aren’t you going to speak to me?” Jeanine sighed. “Not even a word, huh…” Her eyes fluttered from one side of the room to the other. “I know… You are not really used to being spoken, are you? No need to panic. I have talked to the likes of you before.” She was tracing her guest with flickering eyes and a motionless body. “And now, it is my time, isn’t it? I am what you’re after.” She let her body rest on the bed, lowering her back against it and comfortably placing her head on the razor thin pillow. “I knew you would eventually come for me.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her eyes moved under her eyelids. “Can you at least… You know, make it painless for me?”

A cold breeze came over Jeanine that day, at that very moment. One that would leave her lifeless – painlessly, in the brink of a second. One that would go under the radar for the doctors, indeed.

Partially because… Well, you know how the saying goes around the hospital.

Crazy is what crazy does.