Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-4997457-20150831002024

ok so I've written a story about a girl with Paranoid Schitzophrenia. I don't have the disorder so the feed back of people who do would eb appreciated. also apparently it wasn't clear enough she was seeing stuff according to an admin who deleted it and told me to bring it here first, that was the point at first and i had stuff in there that a person who had atleasta  moderate knowlege of the disorder could get, so I've made it a bit more obvious.

How can i improve it? what shoudl i work on or remove and what did i get right in terms of the disorder and of quality factor

You can find the story on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/144921665-claire-part-one

or below: "Why are your eyebrows different?" I stuttered, something I'd noticed about Lucia as of late, Her eyebrows seemed, almost malformed. "Em, Claire. You okay there?" Lucia laughed. Confusion it seemed, was it? Her once infectious laugh brought a fake smile of deeply set anxiety to my sullen face. Her eyebrows still stuck out. Bent upwards, quivering nervously. "Yeah, just my imagination I guess, crazy me." I lied. Starring on further into her, examining her baffled facial expression. Strange. She called my observation strange, then laughed it off per usual. Lucia clutched the chicken drumstick with her left hand, devouring it. Putting on an aggressive gnarling tone. Yup, leave it to Lucia to still look like a Victoria's Secret model devouring extremely succulent chicken. Lucky bitch. At the time my thought was so blurred I couldn't remember much after that, the next accessible memory I had I was on the schoolbus. Lucia lived on my block, seated next to me at the middle of the bus. Any of those popular boys down the back would allow Lucia their seat (or rather for them, their lap) as a cushion for Lucia's delicate backside. But Lucia had class, instead of sitting around guys who worshipped her she sat with me, half way down the bus with all the other artsy kids. Punkish teens with dyed hair, hipsters and the art lovers like myself. The lame people so to say, myself, the brunnette with the hot friend. Lucia's rants ventured off into whatever direction politics came from, normally I was quite engaged in these, but my interest had ventured into another direction, the window. Brook's Mill was scenic, everybody knew that and in typical 21st century style, few cared. But that normally didn't distract me. I could just walk there after school with Lucia or on my own as of the last few months. Alone is better sometimes. This time the scenery was blurry, like that of the view of a camera taped to a bullet. Then, a sudden screaming halt brought the motion to a lagging photo, almost like the world's most glitchy video game. The ambient music coming from my right would have been appreciated in calmer circumstances but it just irritated me today, the confusion in the buses speed affecting the view must have given me a headache. "Can you turn that flippin music off Bryan?!" I pursed my lips, aggressively spewing the words, bringing surprise to both Bryan and Lucia. Both gave me the weirdest look I'd ever seen on a human face. Certainly such a tone wasn't expected from the quiet girl but I was so fucking pissed off at that point, even more at the fact he acted so clueless. "Okay, then who ever is playing that shitty Beethoven remix turn it off! I've a pain in my head..." I had started yelling to the point I'd attracted the universal attention of all school bus commuters. "Claire, nobody else can hear any music but you. Are you sure you're okay? I mean my cousin hears things sometimes, he goes to this really great psychiatrist downtown..." Lucia muttered, confused it seemed. "I AM NOT CRAZY." "Okay, yeah sure I'm just kidding I guess." She struggled to speak in a convincing tone. That's when I noticed she was covering her phone, the music app was clearly open, and she further hid it in her sprawling hoodie upon my examination. Her face panicked, I could sense it. We could always normally tell when each other were hiding something. Why play such a deliberate attempt to confuse me? Was she trying to make me seem crazy? She want's to lock me up just like my Uncle Jim... Bitch, cruel bitch. The music resumed. This time, Radiohead. Somehow Lucia's favourite band came on. Her phone was filled with that, an accidental tap had almost a 50/50 percent chance of being Radiohead. I shrugged it off, I was no stranger to the band and I quite enjoyed their music. Thats when she started bugging me, not four blocks from my house she kept pausing and playing the song, her hand and pocket issuing a motion for each pause or resuming of music. Music. Silence. Music. Silence "Stop, I don't mind Radiohead, then you realise that and start pausing it repeatedly? Are you okay or something Lucia! Seriously!" I whispered sharply. "Claire, are you sure you're okay today? Is this about the SATS? Claire it's only the Eleventh grade ones, the one next year is the one that counts." She gave a weak pathetic smile, an invalid excuse. "Why can't you admit the truth, I don't give a shit Lucia! Just don't lie to me, you got over this phase in the Eighth Grade! I thought we agreed no lying for our friends at the back's attention!" I snapped in a low tone, attracting on Lucia's attention. "You think this is about Boys? WTF no! Your acting up lately, you haven't been the same since mid August, and you're getting worse." She snapped viciously, her hair waving slightly in the process. "I haven't changed at all." I said, fiercely protecting myself. The bus came to a screeching halt, and there was my stop. I struggled forward, abandoning Lucia. Which further made me snarl. Bitch, this was her stop and everything. Probably going to Mark Robson's house, what a lier. I was now storming of the bus, it's yellow cracking paint far behind me by the time I'd got halfway up my suburban garden. A twitching movement suddenly invaded the corner of my eye. I turned over, fed up. A tall, hunchbacked old man stood in my neighbours garden, cutting their hedge slowly and precisely with a glossy metallic shears. he cut so slow his hands barely moved before final, violent jerk which decapitated the thin, wispy branches. He shot me an unnatural grin wider than the Colorado river, his teeth snarling, yellow and cracked with reddish-wine spots. He raised his hand, waving slowly. Non-stop, his eyes unblinking. His grin widening. My eyes shot fully alert in a matter of milliseconds, I backed into the house slowly, locking the door tightly behind me, pulling over every latch on the door, fully sealing it. My mom would be home in half an hour, for once that seemed like a God's send. For once. I slowly entered the Living room at the left of the door, the white curtains had been drawn and the room was dark and musky, like that if a dog freshly acquainted with a septic stream. I edged closer to the window, the stench was making it hard to breath at this time, butterflies in my stomach soon turned to the sensation that somebody was ripping out my guts and tying them in a  very, very hard knot. My hand reluctantly reached for the smooth material, I didn't want to see the other side of that sheet of glass but at this point I had little control over anything my body was doing, the curtain came back a little bit. The space where the man was was empty, so was the space where a white pick-up had been in the driveway, an over friendly gardener? My face smiled insanely and a sigh of relief escaped the clutches of my dry mouth. Then there was the noise, at first faint but at second exposure it rang through my ears, it was a noise I heated everyday, sometimes five times a day. Somebody was lurking outside the door. The bulky shadow hung viciously over the door, I could see a slight image of a person from the slightly cracked open blinds. What would I do if he spotted me? Who on earth was he? My neighbours had never hired a gardener before. The Jenson's could be seen day and night in that herbal mess they called a "vegetable patch". The door received two shallow knocks, if I was mere meters from the door they would have been inaudible. The door shivered in suspense, almost (if not) physically vibrating. I backed away, releasing little to no sound in my steps beside the ever howling  creaking of the floorboards. I had managed to get to the kitchen, I quickly sealed the door connecting to the hallway, a single chair to barricade it. I had to let somebody know, and quick. I could risk exiting the house but my neighbours had concrete walls on either side, essentially this would be forcing me into his grasps. I pulled out the phone, unlocked it swiftly and found my way go the texting screen. Me: Lucia its urgent there is some guy, he was gardening at the Jenson's place. He's at the door he was staring at me. I need you to hurry over with your mom or something. LuciaXXbae: Maybe you should just run into him, get chopped up with his shears Me: What? Lucia what, I'm... this is serious. this is not funny! LuciaXXbae: This is hilarious! You don't see how much we will all be so happy when you are gone. His grin, you know you want it. Me: How do you know about his Grin? LuciaXXbae: Haha who doesn't you fat ugly fear mongering whore. Whore. Whore. Whore. Check the living room. Your mother couldn't even bare to know you survived yesterday so you killed her. Me: THAT MAKES NO SENSE WHAT, what on earth you're hurting me. you're really hurting me! LuciaXXbae: Like you hurt your mother? The last bit sounded eerily vocal, almost as if it was being spoken, no, whispered into my ear so directly... it's tone sending such shivers down my spine. She couldn't be here, could she? I leaned forward, grabbed a knife from the drawers, the biggest and most pointy one my mother owned. I edged closer to the living room, still  worked up about the text. As I came ever closer the low humming entered my ear like a stream, peaceful and gracefully. I grasped the handle in my hands, squeezed it as firmly as I could and turned it to the right. There on the other end lay, or should I say dangled my Mother. The rope still strung around her neck, firmly, her throat oozing a small amount of blood from rope burn. I began to shake violently. Had I done this? No, had she? Had the man outside? I peered onto her as I edged closer. A tingling movement in her toes went up to her foot, a random spasm released twisting it back and forward. Violently rocking. "Mama, Mom, Mommy." I cried as I hurried forward, wailing at this point. I tugged at the rope on her neck but it only seemed to tighten it. Fastening, fastening fastening. It kept going tighter until such a laceration was formed a steady blood flow exited her throat. Then she smiled, her eyes opened, her entire eyes beady and pitch black. The grin formed twitching on her face, almost spasming like her leg. Her bruised lips raised, revealing her broken teeth, she nodded upwards as if to direct me to something. I refused to comply, I was just frozen on the spot. Speechless. I was sweating beyond control and my body temperature had rapidly dropped to the extremes of cold. My skin so so clammy.... The thing- My Mother snarled and aggressively shook her head up and down. And I did something so so stupid. I went along with it. There, there resided a suicide note scribbled onto the ceiling, reading the words in black permanent marker. YOU MADE ME DO THIS. YOU. YOU. My Mother peered into my face. Grinning turned to chuckles and then uncontrollable laughter. I rushed for the hall, I almost couldn't move. What had just happened? Was that really the woman who claimed and apparently lied about loving me? Last night she had tucked me in, made me hot chocolate and cried with me for so long, telling me everything would be okay. Telling me such sweet things. I appeared into the hallway and immediately regretted doing so. Creaks moaned from the front of the house desperately warning me of danger. I gulped so hard I almost swallowed my vocal chords. I was about to pull up the phone and call the police but such a decision would not be wise. The door swayed open in the wind, its wooden panels almost smiling back at me. Laughing. Jeering. I could hear them, laughing ta me and my fate. I backed so steadily into the living room. My Mother still hung there, and slowly crept closer little by little. I looked up at the jeering horrific creature. I  looked up at my dying mother. "I'm so sorry Mommy, I'm so so sorry. I'm a failure, you deserved more. All I ever wanted was for you to love me.. Please please just let me die in your arms. Please." I wrapped my arms wide around my Mother's upper waist and dug my head into her abdomen. I cried so loud that the man would have heard me if my Mother's flesh didn't act as a sound barrier almost muting my cries. The woman did not respond, before uttering the following words. "Lucia is going to kill you. Lucia is in the house. Run, run, run, run little girl." My Mom laughed to her heart's content "CLAIRE!!" Lucia burst into the room, taking no note of my mother's hanging soon to be corpse. I felt my hand involuntary rise. "Kill her, Kill her, Killer her she killed your mother you know it's true. She's set out to blame it on you, She picked that stupid boy over you. She deserves it. She deserves it." A man commanded from behind me, the gardener no doubt. "OMG Claire, are you okay. I got your texts! it was gibberish almost as if you were talking to somebody, Claire you need to come outside your m-"  "NOOOOOOOO!" I yelled, ending the crescendo of Lucia and the man that had been building up. He leaped forward, shoving the knife deep up her abdomen. "YOU KILLED HER! SHE IS MY FRIEND! SHE IS JUST A GIRL!!!" I turned back screaming at the air. there was not figure there, he had just vanished. "What? I couldn't kill Claire. You could. Your pathetic, no value for life you gave in Claire. Your weak. Spineless. pathetic. Unloved. Your mother killed herself over you she hated you so much. You did a terrible thing. You're a naughty girl Claire." The man's voice chuckled. "What are you talk-" I peered down at the screaming Lucia. My hand held the knife at one end, Her abdomen had taken the sharp end full on. No, I hadn't, I wouldn't-  My thoughts were interrupted by the screams of Lucia's mother as she entered the room, closely behind her. No, It couldn't be... Closely behind her was in equal panic was.... My Mother. 