As I'm being walked down the hall, I see all the other rooms with all the other patients. They stop at a door, a room with a bed, my sanctuary until this is over, home. They take me into the room and without a second glace, they leave me. I sit here, in a pale white room, it seems lonely, but that doesn't bother me. I've always been used to the lonely rooms, with lonely walls, and lonely imaginary faces. The faces I make up. I lay there on the bed, my blond and brown hair tangled around my fingers, my deep blue eyes now pale blue, and my tan skin now pale, I'm just a pale body of skin and bones. Even with scars, my skin seems plain, the scars are invisible compared to my pale skin. Since when did I become so plain and lonely? I sit up on the bed, surprised by the squeak of the mattress, I slightly jump. I go over to the window, seeing the forest bellow. I breath in and out shakily breaths, calming any ounce of anxiety in my body. I lose it. I end up pounding on the floor out of frustration. Why did I let this get so far? Why'd she die? Why am I still alive? They come in with "medicine" and lay me down on the bed and leave.
YOU ARE READING
Out Of My Mind
Random16 year old Elizabeth struggles with the challenge of being accused of the death of her friend Amelia. Can she find a way to be ok? Read Book to Find Out! Tw: Unalive thy self and a whole cup of Depresso Espresso
