My pinky runs across my warm lips, sending a shiver down to my toes. I wiggle them. I have been sitting in this bed for hours tonight, freezing, with my heart beating in a steady pattern that makes me want to scream. But I don’t. I fold my hands and rest them in my lap. I see my yearbook from high school as a glance around this room. It’s a mystery how its arrived in my new, quiet “home”. I tug my yearbook off the shelf and quickly replace it. I don’t like the space it leaves. I flip through the yearbook while it remains in its correct place on the shelf. Do you see her, the blonde, in the left corner? She called me insane. The boy that wears a smirk that is slightly to the right of the middle. He told me I needed to be hospitalized. The girl with the stupid pink highlights over there? She shoved my face into the toilet and held it there. A minute later I came up sputtering and with a sudden fear of toilets.
Wind from the drafty wall pushes at my ankles, pleading for me to rest in my bed. I scream at the horrible people that sent me here. I punch at the walls, tear at the cheap wooden floors and sob, curled up in a ball on the floor, asking for a way out. For a clock. For a light switch, for entertainment. I might not have been crazy before coming here, but this has made me. Kicking at the wall closest to me, I create a hole. Green light bleeds through the crack from a street light while I manage to pry through the wall. The wind is poured out from my body as I thud on the ground. Something that resembles a piece of a beer bottle cuts my arm. I hold it tightly in my palm, slightly tearing at the skin around it in the process. I am free, and I am seeking for revenge.
An sly grin spreads across my face. The clock flashes a 2:00. Anyone out this late at night in the city is a crazy as me. I am thankful for the hospital being so close to my town. I can easily find anyone. Snow flutters down, and sticks to the frozen ground. Although I am barefoot with nothing but a nightgown, It is soothing. I lay down in front of the school, catching snow on my tongue. It melts at soon as it touches me, but it starts to collect after a while. I am not cold.
My pinky runs across my cold lips for the last time it ever will. I decide to stay here all night, show the horrible people what they have down to me. I say goodbye to my family, knowing I have a note in my pocket for them. My tears freeze on my cheeks. I am sorry, but I need to do this. No. Stop. I don’t want to die. Somebody help me! Why can’t I move? I need to say more. I need to explain. I can’t think clearly. I changed my mind. I can’t do this. Is this it?
Well, Goodbye.