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Iso

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Iso    1203

I survived by letting my mother die.

Schizophrenia is a wonderfully understandable concept. In practice it is not as easy to comprehend.

I was with my mother, accompanying her on a photogenic walk through the forests of South Zagoria. The sun shone brightly behind a cotton ball cloud, hampered by the imminent coal dust clouds descending on the forest. She enjoyed the forests, they reminded her of my brother, taken from us by the sea. She had never been the same since his loss. Her loss.

We had been on a cabin retreat for a few days, a suggestion from her doctor. He said it would help to soothe her delusions and paranoia, the media frenzy around the infection and infected running rampant in the region regressed her progress slightly. The doctor had been correct, she seemed to be herself when she was in nature. The natural order of the forest seemed to influence the order of her mind.

The infection and infected were something unnatural, or so I had heard. Very few people had actually been infected according to the government but I doubted that severely. My mother's mind was a simple, yet astoundingly complex machine. Very simple things influenced her, like a small story in the news or a slight remark that she did not understand. The conclusions she formed were often astoundingly outlandish and foolish, yet they made perfect sense to her. This I could not comprehend or accept. I argued with her fiercely to attempt to bring logic and order to her disordered and chaotic thoughts, yet with all my intellect and reason, a simple forest could do what I could not; restore her balance.

A leisurely walk through the forest was calming for myself in many ways. It was a break from the stress of Chernarussian life and a reminder of the days when she was happy, playing in the garden and the forest with my baby brother. Ever since he was taken my life seemed to be out of order; her life seemed to be out of order. Even in the forest, at one with nature, I couldn't help feeling the real world approaching me from behind, ready to take me back to the disorder of an ordered civilisation.

We were getting in to my battered, rusted sedan to drive back to Chernogorsk. My mother tapped on the window and gestured towards the large forest lake close to our cabin, beckoning me to come with her. I reluctantly pulled on my pack and jogged briskly to the lake. She gestured at a figure I hadn't noticed before, a man in red overalls splotched with blue paint. She approached the man, lumberjacks often came up to the cabin with fresh firewood so I wasn't too worried, and then he was on her, growling fiercely like a cornered dog. Before I could move she was in the lake with the man biting her flesh, tearing through it like soft cheese. Her cries for help landed on my ears but I stood dumb like a slapped child.

I dripped in my car as I milled back to the edges Chernogorsk, surprised by the lack of police checkpoints and lack of military presence. My wet pack and clothes laid next to me in the passenger seat, dripping blood and water alike. I remember thinking that the stain would be difficult to get out.

As I approached my home I was stopped by military officials. One of the men pointed a gun at me whilst the others bundled me out of the car. I was pressed onto the ground and heard an official retch as they opened the back doors of my car. "Holy shit there's a dead woman back hear, blonde, in her 40s with multiple stab wounds to her body."

"I... helped order... her mind..." were the last words I wheezed before the beatings began.

I'd like to take a moment to thank you for reading my story, I hope you enjoyed it, if you have any questions please do ask as the plot may be difficult to understand.

Please do tell me what you actually think happened to the main character and their mother!

P.S.

I'm not actually this mental in real life :)

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Majoo    742

The story was pretty good, are you going to release next chapters ?

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Iso    1203

The story was pretty good, are you going to release next chapters ?

I highly doubt it, I'm better at writing off the cuff stories instead of sticking to a larger script if you understand.

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