Hospital
(May 06, 2004 - 4:20 P.M.)

The hallways of the hospital were quiet. Only a few people remained. The few people remaining wore white coats. Everything is so quiet. And very white. The only noise that could be heard is the tapping of my bare feet on the ground. The tiles on the floor matched their coats. I searched for someone who I knew, someone that was familiar. Though I could find no one. The silence was overwhelming. It drove me insane. The quiet cleanliness of the hospital was driving me insane. I wanted to break the silence, to yell, to let my anger out. The wals were white, my itchy paper gown was white, everything was white. I hated the color. White is the color of purity - something I am not. I had been cooped up in this hospital for too long. They had forgotten me. I took advantage of this time and attempted an escape. I really wanted to scream, but there was a janitor with a bucket and a mop, sloshing filthy water around on the floor. I did not wish to strike attention. The janitor would have me locked back up again. Too long had I been cooped up in this mental hospital. They kept telling me I am not ready to face the real world. I am ready. Anything to get out of this cursed hospital. My bare feet padded the slippery wet tile floor as I passed the janitor. He looked at me, fear in his eyes. I bit my lower lip and padded my way off to the cafeteria. Dozens of new children were there, some with bloodlines on their wrists and some with pierced bodies and wild eyes, like mine. I crossed my arm to feel my wrist. I had done the same thing too. It was deep. I almost died. My family sent me away because they couldn�t control me. The scar was still there, a dark purple bruise-like cut lined the vein. I have been here for five months. I was supposed to be in for only three. My family forgot to bring me back. I have attempted to escape twice but they have caught me every time. But not this time. This time, I will make it back home. All this time, I have been plotting. If the smallest problem occurs, everything would be foiled and I would have to stay another month. The paper clothes they had given me upon my arrival were itching my skin. I was dieing to get them off. The bracelet they had given me upon entry looked like a serpent, coiling around my wrist. Many times I had tried to claw it off. I had succeeded only once. My fingernails were bloody from trying so hard. No one was to know I had taken it off. I had stolen the nurses� scissors and hid them from view. I cut the band off and took it with me. I was smarter than to leave behind my evidence. Tonight was New Years. That was why they hadn�t been watching me as closely. Their fearful eyes watching every move I made drove me to attempting escape for yet another time. The teenage kids (my age) looked at me, acknowledging my existence. I didn�t wish to hurt them. They hadn�t caused this pain. My family were the ones who put me here. My imprisonment would not go on unnoticed. They would remember this even if I had to slash the words on their forehead. They ruined my life by sending me here. They didn�t fear my life, they simply feared me.

~Lindsey