Broken Toys

Can a childhood occurrence ruin a person's life forever? What can a simple event do to a damage a child's view on life and people? Eight year-old Elizabeth has a normal childhood until those seven days of March 1994 damage her life forever.

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8. Broken Mind

 

Monday 20th March 1994

I stared out of the back window as the people took me away from everything I ever knew. I couldn't believe that Chloe had done this. She had contacted the mental institution to take me away.

This was all Catherine's fault, I'll never forgive her. She has had her revenge. I'm sure to spend the next few years of my life alone. With no one to care. No one to take me to school. No one to read me a bedtime story. No one to give me a hug and say it's okay. No one to say they love me. Alone.

 

The doctors gave me a good room to stay in. A room with a bed, and warmth and even little speakers that played the radio all day. They gave me a desk with drawing pads and colouring pencils. I was actually finding it quite exciting. It was an adventure seeing as I had never stayed in a place like this before. It was great. Until they started treatment.

 

 

"I went through three years of mental treatment. Every morning I had breakfast in the canteen with all the other children, at roughly 9 o'clock. Then I went to a private room to have one hour of counselling. Then at 10 o'clock sharp, I began lessons until lunch at 1pm. After lunch, it was team building activities outside with all the others. This included sports, nature walks, trips and other things like that. Dinner was served at 5 o'clock, one group was expected to help with wiping up afterwards. I had my treatment at 7 o'clock, this was the nightmare. I slept with the memories of treatment haunting my dreams."

 

 

Friday 13th January 1997

13th January 1997, I turned eleven. On the morning of my eleventh birthday, I decided that I didn't want to live. I began smacking my head against the wall with as much force as I could muster. I split the skin on my forehead and slightly cracked the wall. It did not kill me. The only thing that it did was put me in a white room with padded walls. No desk. No pretty bed. No mini speakers. An empty room with a mattress on the floor. Lessons and interaction with the other children ended. Visiting hours were horribly strict, and no one came to see me. I was even more alone than I was before.

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