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Jayne died, one month ago last Tuesday. She's not dead now, though- brought back from the dead, like so many are.

Only she's not like the others. Something's wrong.

Very wrong indeed.

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2. Two

 

30th April, 3033  

Still in a hospital someplace.

     I'm becoming more and more certain that there is something up.

  Today, a woman came. She said "Hello, Jayne!" All high and chirpy. Then she came and unplugged something from my arm, and asked me to blink three time.s She looked in my eyes when I did this, and then she wrote something down in her little book.

" Right then!" She said, sickeningly gleeful, "Let's us see if we can't get you walking!"

 First thought, I hated that woman. I mean really, really hated her. Hmm... never really hated anybody before. Not that irrationally, or that intensely. My head didn't seem to like it. My brain fizzed away over the emotion. I wondered if they'd been pumping hormones into me or something. I'm not happy in this hospital. I'm away from my home and from my family, and I'm just... I don't KNOW! I've very little control of myself at the minute. My head is such a web of foggy numbness that I can barely feel a thing. I have to clutch at any emotion I feel with both hands, just to remind me that I am human, and I am alive.

   I miss my writing... I have this pen, and I have this paper, and I am writing these words, but they are not my words. I am writing them, but I don't control them... they  don't... sing for me the way they used to. They don't dance. Their spark, and their beauty is gone... I don't control them. I don't choose them. Like the desicion to write them was made so long ago that they may as well be controlling me for all the influence I have.

  And then suddenly, after I wrote that last sentence, I was so very sad. An onslaught of sheer, intense emotion swallowed me whole and... there was this... this fury, such fury, I hated it, I hated it! And.. and I was just so.... just so... so... I... wanted. I... I suddenly. I suddenly wanted some... control back, though. I was... I was... I was... I was... I... I WAS!

 Out cold. Passed out cold.

  And my head was a swirling mess again. I don't understand, but I force myself not to try to. I slowly think through what I've just experienced, and I'm careful to view only as an observer.  

Jayne was in an accident. Jayne woke up yesterday. Jayne was on her back. Jayne feels wrong. Jayne is irrational right now. Jayne's emotions get away from her. Just now, Jayne passed out. Jayne got really, really emotional, and then she passed out.

 I'm afraid to feel things, because of what feeling does to my head. If emotions can't be controlled by me, then surely they must control me. So I'm taking them back. If the only way to control them is to stop them, then that is what I must do.

   So later, the woman comes back in. At first, I barely notice her, because my eyes are clouded over by confusion and my whole body feels rather hazy, although I am more with it than I was yesterday, being with it seems to come at rather a cost. I am far more conscious of all my discomforts. Then she touches her hand to my shoulder, and she shakes at me a little. Her eyes are still chirpy, and she's so stupidly cheery that I just want to smash her face in. And she's holding this thing, and I don't know what it's for, but it terrifies me. It's got one, long, pointed probe, and it's hooked up to this big battery thing, and I think it's going to shock me, or cut me, or both, or worse.

 And off, way off somewhere in the back of my head, there's this little voice, this little singong voice, going "Jaaaay-ne... this...this this, is not the wa-a-a-a-ay, ohh Jaaaaay-ne control, control, control, control your emo-o-o-otions..."

 But it only serves to rile me further.

   Control? Hah! The instinct for self preservation is far greater than any sense of control! She comes closer, and I know she's trying to explain, but I can't listen! Why would I listen!? She wants me to walk, then walk I will!  And then my rage and my fear take over my body, and I am no longer me.

   I am ashamed of what happened next.

 I launched from my bed, and I threw myself across the room, and I was shouting, and spitting, and swearing too, and I grabbed the woman's back, and pulled her up against me by the small of her back, like I was to kiss her, or something. And for a minute, I think that's what she thought I was doing. 

 Then the fear flooded her innocent, green eyes, as held the cold metal of the probe to her skin, and I peirced the back of her neck, poised to push it through.

 Poised for the kill.

   Seems a good place to end. For the suspense.  

Until tomorrow,  

Jayne.  

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