Another short story from me. Am submitting it to my school mag. Thank you so much for reading this and giving me a chance! 

Inspired by Youtube music composers "Two Steps From Hell". Go check them out! 

Till next time! Ciao! 

I was two steps from hell. Literally. The volcanic mountain's raging fire, bubbling lava... All waiting for me to plunge headfirst into it, a hungry predator eager to embrace me with its flaming jaws.

The men behind me closed in warily. I almost hadn't notice them.

"Don't come near me!" I screamed. "You come near me and I'll jump!"

Dr Richards held out a pacifying hand. His voice was soft, gentle yet firm, clearly experienced in dealing with these matters.

"Arianna, listen to me. You're ill. You're not well. Just – just step away from the side, okay? Just step away."

The heck I would. "No! I know you'll catch me if I do! You'll throw me back into that prison cell!"

"It's not a prison cell, Arianna." His voice was deceivingly soothing and calm. "It's your hospital room. A place where you can be safe."

"Safe? What kind of hospital room has barely any furniture except for a wooden cot and a thin blanket? Where are the machines to cure me?"

"We had to take all the furniture away. You were hurting yourself. And no machines are capable of curing....your condition. Insanity must be treated through counselling and therapy. You know that."

"I'm not insane! I am NOT insane!"

I was crying now. I was scared. I wanted – needed them to believe. I wasn't what they thought I was. All of a sudden, the strength was sapped straight out of me.

"Please," I whispered, begging. "I'm not insane. You have to listen to me. They kept me here because I know something they don't want others to know."

I began to speak, fast and urgent.

"I saw him. I saw Peter kill Mr Crusade, the billionaire that you all thought died of natural causes. He didn't! Peter killed him to get his money! And when he found out that I had witnessed it, he threw me here. He wanted everyone to believe I was mad, so no one would trust what I had to say. But I'm telling the truth! I saw him did it!"

Dr Richards gave an exasperated sigh. "You know that you're talking about Peter Lockstone right? The man who funded several big-time government projects? The man who set up Chaste Charity to help the poor?"

"He's not who he says he is!" I was desperate. This was the one moment that I could finally reveal the truth. "Please. Please believe me."

For a moment I thought he would. But then something flickered in his eyes and I fell into despair, knowing that he did not believe, did not believe in the words of a sixteen-year-old when those words went against the words of what the world viewed as a generous, rich philanthropist.

"There was no such thing, Arianna. You imagined it. You imagined the murder, you imagined everything."

His voice was kind, sympathetic. "You have a kind of delusional disorder that makes you see and believe things that aren't there. It's curable, but only if you are willing to let us help."

I hesitated. Could it be? Could it really be that everything I thought I knew had been nothing but figments of my wild imagination? I wanted it to be so, so badly.

But how could I have imagined the dying screams of Mr Crusade? Or the blood that slowly pooled on the ground? How could I have conjured up the immense fear and horror when I realized that I had been caught?

"Just two steps away from the edge, Arianna." His voice was pleading, nothing but kindness. But underneath his eyes I detected something else.

Determination.

Was I truly insane? Or was I not?

All I had to do, was to take two steps. Either forward......or backward.

I lifted a foot.

One...

Two.