The Demons Within
By
Victoria Tullett
Victoria Tullett
vickyt1998@hotmail.com
+44 7714 280876
West Sussex, BN14 0AQ
©2016 V.TULLETT Productions
Scene 1
JULIA (Age: 24)
I suck in a breath, cold and harsh, feeling nothing; this is normal, while my head reels and spirals out of control. I’m cold, frozen. The coldness of the world has destroyed me. It drains the light from the soul and the warmth from the now shell of the body. I feel numb, the nothingness taking control. Icy shards piercing the brink of my corrupt brain, paralysing the nerves; the emotions, the feelings, any feeling, cemented by the frost running through the empty case I know as my body. I feel the pain - pain that is so strong it penetrates through the ice cold to the fragile surface. It burns. What a contrast from my frozen corpse. Pain is a feeling, the only one I can experience. Pain is better than the numbness of reality. I can control Pain; I already have, and I carry its leash with me, Pain’s silver sharp leash that I wield in the face of the numbness, the frost. The blood that’s placed throughout my frozen vessel still flows, another element of the body the frost cannot control. I see it flow, trickling along my frigid flesh as I dominate Pain, a sharp sting crawling over my skin. I restrain the shriek biting at the back of my throat; my features remain indifferent, despite being isolated from the world the mask still remains. The mask that makes people believe that I am as happy as ever, the mask that makes them say, “Oh Julia, you are such a content person”, the mask that stops people raising concern because I am just the ‘same old Julia!’ The ‘I’m Fine’ mask. They see ‘happy little Julia’; besides, seeing is believing, right?
DEPRESSION
I am your controller, your handler. You cannot tame me. The metal in your fist tames Pain, but Pain and I are not the same. Pain is not part of me and he will never be, he is part of you. You have tamed Pain so you think you have then tamed me? I am untamable, don’t you see? You are under my control, and you will be for as long as you live; even in other lifetimes,other world, I will be there, haunting you. I am the one the strikes Fear in the soul of every being before me. Everyone has, and will always, suffer from the taument I arise in them, and it will never end. Why should it? I am just getting started. Clutching the brain and stammering every pleasant thought, every feeling; everyone will suffer, no matter their strength and resistance. I make them feel pain, agonising pain surging under the skin. Then everything froze, the river of pain flowing below becoming static, numbing the vessel it once gushed through. I feel no pity for the suffering, I feel it for the ones that survived. This is my design.
Scene 2
LUCY (Age: 14)
I’ve been told that mirrors lie to the person in front of it, but why would something so treasured and pure lie to the innocent. No, a mirror never lies. The voices in my head never lie. The results of my actions never lie, yet the scars they leave are permanent. The feather-like lines along my knuckles, the drastic drop in my health and mental wellbeing, but the results are proving that these permanent scars are worth their while. I don’t believe that the scars are permanent, but my doctor insists, he has even given me a food chart and a weekly meal diary. He thinks that I am starving myself, pushing all my food away. But the reality is that I do eat, I binge eat everything I can, but it doesn’t stay there for long. My friends always say that they will come to the toilet with me, so they can go on and on about how Jake was staring at them during maths or whatever, and they always question me when I refuse. They are all naturally skinny, they won’t understand. No-one understands. I’ve got used to it now, the clenching of my stomach, trying desperately to cling on to whatever it can so that my body won’t starve another day; the strain in my fingers being forced lower, and my forearms bracing the toilet seat while my knees shatter on the stain-covered floor of the girls toilets. My eyes never lie to me; besides, seeing is believing, right?
BOLIMIA
You are mine. I own you, all of you is mine. I created the scars, feathering lines through the brain and penetrating the skull causing it to shatter against the constant strikes hammering from the inside. Scars expanding whilst your structure perishes. Your only comfort being the piss-stained surface beneath your shattering knees, so alone. But, as I have always said, it’s all worth it. You believe me, right? Everything I do is for you, it is all for your sack. Why would I do all this just for me. I don’t gain from this, or do I? You must listen to me, learn how to control these despicable thoughts that cloud your brain, blurring your vision of what you want, who you want to be. Or have you forgotten. Compare your dreams to reality; is what you have really what you want? Look at her, the real you, staring you down in exasperation due to what you have become. This is my design.
Scene 3
DIANE (Age: 19)
Fingers tingling, body numbing, breath quickening. Heart racing, skipping beats, count them, one, two three, four, five … Racing too fast, can’t keep up. Lungs collapsing under the weight. Lips quivering, tears threatening to spill; stomach churning, choking, Fear is lodged in my throat. I can never escape Fear, he always finds me. He greets me as a friend, kind compassionate; then the obsession starts, the yearning to control, manipulate, takeover, corrupt. He squeezes my limbs causing them the tingle, a sharp tingle. My bones crushing under his weight, forcing me to collapse to my knees and surrender to his mercy. Sucks the oxygen from my lungs and the air surrounding me; caresses my throat with his monstrous hands and crushes it like a piece of rubbish and discards me like I’m shit. I never wanted Fear to rule me, but he has become the reason behind my many scars, demolishing my future and caging me away from the rest of humanity. He has pinned me in my place and has denied me impediment. The person they see is not me, it never was; they see what I covet them to see. I am a sufferer, yet I regain composure, and return to my indifferent mask. The mask that hides the pain, the concerns, the Fear. I am not different to the way I was yesterday, so they should think. I seem like the same old person I was many years ago; besides, seeing is believing, right?
ANXIETY
I hide away in the solution of your brain. Gnawing away at your sense of security, molding it to shades of cowardice that clings to the walls of your spiralling mind. Squeezing the fear, pain reinforces the angst crawling through you. I am IN you; I AM you. Sanity is rejected for the bleak coverage of agony, panic, self-destruction. I am controlling your every thought, I am your thoughts; agony is what binds you to my very existence. Without your existing agony I would not be here. I create your stimuli, your point of panic. Sucking the oxygen from the depth of your lungs as you choke out tears in retaliation. You embody living hell. You embody Fear. And I embody you. I am what defines you, what do you think about that? Why so teary-eyed, deary, what thought have I provoked this time. Oh look, a crowd of people, people you don’t know, a HUGE crowd of strangers heading right this way. Ooh, and what’s this? Are they talking to … random people? Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. See that guy there? In the stripy shirt? He is heading straight … this … way. Don’t worry darling, a strong lap from me should clear that clouded little head of yours. This is my design.
