I figured life was a watercolor painting, but not like the ones you see in a museum, no, those ones mean nothing to anyone. I'm talking about the ones that you make in art class; the ones that your art teacher makes you paint and you hate it so much you just want to get it over with. But then you get a B or an A minus and you think that maybe this all makes sense, even as you look down at a white sheet of paper covered in runny, uneven red splotches. And then maybe she tells you that you did good, or maybe she asks you why you painted it or what it represents. So you tell her that it reminded you of the time you fell and scraped your knee on Easter, which totally isn't true. You tell her this though, because you can't tell her that it reminds you of your wrists at one in the morning.

I guess lies don't matter much, because she found out the next day. I don't even remember how she saw the scars, I swore my sleeves were long enough that day. But I thought nothing of anything when she asked me to stay after class. It wasn't until she said she saw my arms that I panicked. I tried to explain, for years, actually. But for some reason, everything everyone else had to say was more important than what I had to say. Maybe my opinion didn't matter because I was crazy, or maybe I was just a girl… interrupted.

That was high school, though. I graduated, and now there I was, one month later leaning against a door frame staring at a bunch of people I didn't know. "Laura!"

God, it was like hearing the devil's cry. I turned around though, putting on my best smile. "Hey, Rachel."

Rachel was my step mother. It's been awhile since then, but yeah, I still remember everything about her. She was an asshole, and probably still is. "Is that what you're wearing for my party?" she whispered, so no one could hear.

"Guess I didn't get the memo, sorry," I said, even if we both knew I wasn't.

The party dragged on and I stayed up in my room for most of it, if I remember correctly; I spent that time writing in my journal. It seemed that was the only thing that I could do without shaking hands or labored breaths, so I did it. I did it a lot. And then… nothing. I stopped. Not for no reason, though. Rachel found my journal and showed my Dad. He didn't have much to say except that Rachel was wrong for going through my things without permission, and she agreed. At least until he left the room. That's when the yelling started. I'm pretty sure she left five minutes after coming in, but I just kept hearing it until I screamed and went into my bathroom cabinet.

There were really bright lights, a shrew of voices and then needles and wires and tubes and just everything. I don't remember what I said, but it was enough that they decided to pump my stomach. I do remember laughing when they mentioned my wrists, and then there was nothing but a low hum and darkness.

I woke up the next day before noon. I laughed to myself. I laughed, and laughed and laughed until the nurse watching my room came in and asked me if everything was okay. And I told her that it wasn't. I told her that they should have let the medicine work because my head was pounding so hard I could have swore I was a construction site. The nurse gave me a terrified look and told me she would come right back.

She never came back.

And then even after having to go through all of that shit, there was more shit apparently. My life was like a port-a-potty at this point. I laughed at my own joke and Mr. Know It All Asshole cocked his head, like he was amused. "Is something funny, Laura?"

"Probably."

He folded his hands and leaned forward. "You tried to kill yourself, Laura. I don't think that's funny."

I narrowed my eyes. "I didn't try to kill myself."

"You chased a bottle of aspirin... with a bottle of vodka."

I shrugged. "I had a headache."

He nodded, probably just to get me to shut up or something, but I guess it worked. He asked me several more questions about how my life was, what I wanted to do when I get older, who I lived with, when my Dad got remarried but then he asked the wrong question. "What happened to your Mother?"

I'm pretty sure I threw his ashtray at him, or whatever that little ceramic dish was that was sitting on his table because I got dragged out of the room and stayed in the lobby for fifteen minutes. When I was finally let back in, he had a bandage on his forehead. Even I felt sorry for him, even if he didn't feel sorry for me. "You know, Laura, there's this great facility in town. It's only fifteen minutes away so you can visit your family -"

I sat up on the edge of my chair; I knew what was coming, but I didn't think he'd actually say it. "You're not talking about Silas, are you?"

"Yes, Laura," he sighed "I am. I think it would be great for you."

"Well… what about… what did my Dad say?" I asked, looking out of the window. He wasn't out there anymore. I was praying to a god I didn't believe in that he said something different than what I thought.

"He… agreed, Laura."

"No," I whispered. "No he didn't... he wouldn't -"

The "doctor" sighed. "There's a cab waiting outside for you, so, whenever you're ready…"

I gave him a hurt look. "But… my Dad's here, why wouldn't he take me?"

"Both of your parents agreed that it would be less… emotional if we did it this way."

We sat in a moment of silence. And, I would have said something but I didn't know if I was going to laugh or cry and I didn't need to give him another reason to send me to Silas.

It didn't matter if I said something or nothing though, I still went.

He took me by the arm and lead me into the back of the cab, but not before I gave Rachel the nastiest look I could muster. "Really smart of you to send a lesbian to a place full of girls for a year, asshole."

She gasped and I swear to god that I saw a hint of a smile on my Dad's face.

I got into the cab and waved goodbye. Not to Rachel, not to my councilor, not even to my Dad. I waved goodbye to whatever bit of sanity I had left. Because I knew I wouldn't have any when I got there.

I was right.

"Hey… you going to Silas?"

I lit a cigarette and took a long drag. "Yeah."

"Why?"

I shrugged. "I'm sad." I looked down at his personal information plate and smirked. "Haven't you ever been sad, Brody?"

"Well, yeah; but you look normal." He cleared his throat. "And I prefer to be called Kirsch… umm…?"

"You don't need to know my name, Kirsch. You don't want to."

He nodded and took a left. I finished my cigarette and flicked it out of the window as we pulled into a huge parking lot. He put the car in park and turned around in his seat. "Here you are."

"I'd say thank you, but I don't know why I should thank you to anyone for driving me to a mental institute."

He laughed and then I laughed and I felt like maybe some things were going to be okay.

But I was wrong because now I'm standing here staring at a nurse with dark skin and fierce eyes. I'm not racist by any means, but holy shit was she intimidating. "Laura Hollis?"

"Unfortunately."

"Welcome to Silas," the woman said with a knowing smile. "Let's go get you checked in, shall we?"

I don't want this. I want to go to college and study journalism and become a writer and…

"Laura Hollis."

"Wake up, freak!" Someone nudged me and I jolted awake.

"Laura Hollis?" My Principal said again, clearly getting irritated. I rolled my eyes before standing and making my way to the stage to grab my diploma that I knew wasn't going to get my anywhere but where I didn't want to be on a Tuesday night.

"Ms. Hollis?"

I shook my head. "What?"

The Lady gave me a look. "You forgot your initial right here," she said, pointing to a blank spot on the page of… holy shit, what is this?

"What am I signing again?"

She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "Your entry forms. You know... regulations, rules, restrictions, repercussions?"

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. "Um.. right, sorry," I said quietly, quickly drawing the pen over the little available spot on the paper.

A few minutes later, we were walking across the parking lot. That nurse, Valerie is her name… she pointed to a large building that looked like it was built in the twenties. "That… is the Men's Ward."

I nodded and we continued to walk forward and then she pointed to a larger building in front of us.

"And this, is the Women's Ward." She smiled and opened the door. "Welcome home."

The smell of antiseptic hit my nose and I scrunched my nose at the smell. It could have been worse, I guess. It smelled better than Rachel's horrible cooking or those disgusting candles she burns when she takes a bath.

I clutched my suitcase tighter as we climbed the stairs to the 4th floor. She opened the doors and I closed my eyes. Everything was white. The walls, the floors, the uniforms, the people.

"Everything's white, I know. You'll get used to it," she said before winking in my direction. I guess I couldn't complain, because I'm white too, but it makes you wonder, maybe the minorities were right. Maybe white people really are crazy.

There was at least ten pairs of eyes on me. Valerie nodded towards the group of girls. "That, is the TV room," she said before lightly tugging on my shirt. We walked for a few seconds before turning the corner. "This is the living room," she drawled. "Everyone hates it."

Despite my current position, I couldn't help but crack a small smile.

Valerie showed me a few more places. The mess hall, the tub room and then, finally, my room.

I sighed, laying my suitcase on my new bed and popped it opened. I took out a pack of cigarettes and dropped them in my pocket. Because god knew that I'd be going through at least a pack a day now.

I pulled out, from under a pair of shorts, an old family photo. My Dad, my Mom and I. We were at the beach that day and I was four so I was pretty afraid of everything, except for my parents.

There was a knock on the door and I buried the picture again. "Laura," Valerie said in that tone of hers. "This is your roommate, Lola Perry."

I turned around and stared at this girl with curly red hair and a shy smile. "It's Perry, Val, just Perry," she said softly, and then she turned to me. "Hi."

"Um, hey… I'm Laura. Laura Hollis."

"Nice to meet you, Laura," Perry said.

There was a loud scream of 'don't touch me you bastards' and Valerie nodded. "You two get acquainted while I go deal with… someone."

Once she left I walked towards the cracked open door and stared at one of the most beautiful girls I'd ever seen in my entire life. And I blushed a little when she starred in my direction. She didn't though, she turned stone cold before whipping her head towards Valerie.

"Who the frilly hell is that?" she barked. "Where's Ell? Where the fuck is she, Valerie?"

Valerie sighed. "You've been gone a long time, a lot of shit's happened."

"No!" she screamed, thrashing in the two men's arms. "Where the fuck is she?"

"Take her to solitary confinement," Valerie said, rolling her eyes in the process.

Who is this girl?

"Get the fuck off of me," she yelled before kicking one of the men in the face and flipping the other over her shoulder. And then… wait, is she starring at me? Is she… oh god. She's running and I'm slamming the door and then it's being pushed back open and slammed again. She puts a chair under the doorknob and glares at me. "Who are you, huh? Where's Ell?"

I backed up, closer to the corner. "I'm… I'm Laura."

She laughed and I would have smiled because her face just glows when she throws her head back. Except for the fact that she was still glaring at me, standing closer and closer. "I don't give a fuck, okay? What'd you do with Ell?"

Perry screamed. "Stop it!"

"Open this damn door."

"Not a chance!" she threw over her shoulder before turning back to me. "You're not going to last five days here -"

"God damn it," Valerie yelled, finally knocking the chair away from the doorknob and breaking into the room. "Get away from her, now."

The girl put her hands up and backed away and out of the room. I drew in a deep breath and turned to Perry who was offering a sympathetic smile. I stood shakily and brushed off my pants.

"Who the hell was that?"

She smiled sadly, shrugging. "That? That... was Carmilla Karnstein."