Fat, heavy raindrops pelted from the sky and exploded against any surface it reached; water glided on the glass of windows like ice skaters, blurring the outside world. It smashed against the pavement, shattering- then recollecting into puddles that created sheets and sheets of water on the ground. It echoed as it sprinted through rickety gutters, threatening to break the aluminum.

Psych Ward patient 96 let her neck slacken and head drop to the window with a light thud, drinking in the cool ravishment it provided. Yearning and desire built up through her body, tension rising until she thought she might combust. She could imagine it so vividly in her mind; she could break the window -it was weakest at the corners- and she could lower herself down to the grass with a rope made of her bed sheets, like they had taught her to do more than a decade ago at school in case of a fire. Then would come the part she could get drunk on for days; she could feel the squish of the sopping grass beneath her, throw her arms out and dance as the water drenched her and absorbed into her clothes, laugh as she spun and jumped and sprinted in the dark, her burning muscles allowing a fulfilling emotion to spread through her limbs, and could feel the rain rolling against her skin, her face, dripping into her eyes and sticking to her lashes. She could drown, get lost, forget herself in this fantasy; and she found that she really, really, wanted to.

She wanted it so badly. She wanted to be let out of this cage like she never wanted anything. She wanted it more than she wanted to live, and she had been tortured, watched her friends die, and watched her family forget every trace of her, like she had never existed and had a defiance to live with the destruction of a hurricane meeting a volcano. She had endured more than most people could even fathom, and yet, here she was, locked in a room with no more than a bed, a night stand, and a measly bookshelf filled with children's picture books.

The tension caught fire, and rebellion sparked in her soul. "I am not crazy!" she shrieked. She flipped her nightstand over, smashing the minuscule flower vase and lamp. "I'm not crazy!" she screamed again. She was trembling- no, she was shaking. She was cracking, and if she didn't stop now, she would shatter. If she wanted to, she could set fire to this place. Three words passing over her lips, and the whole damn building would be in flames. If she wanted to, she could do anything her burning heart desired, and that's what scared her more than the thought of being locked in this place forever; that if she wanted to, she could destroy anything in her path; that very easily, in fact, she could become quite like the monster responsible for her being here. The worst of them all, though, was that she knew she had very little time left of her control; that is, if she were to remain here.

She sank to the floor in the midst of shattered porcelain and glass, her chest quivering with shallow breaths, and her fingers pressing into her biceps so hard they would leave bruises. She rocked back and forth or her knees, wanting to cry but finding she had no tears to be shed.

That's how the nurse found her when she opened the door. She walked in a hurried pace over to the patient, careful to keep a safe distance away, a syringe at the ready hidden behind her back. "What happened?" the nurse asked in an authoritative voice that she had been trained to use. When that didn't work, she tried, "What do you need?"

Patient 96 turned towards her, slowly. She had a wild mane of ginger brown ringlet curls, and golden hazel eyes. Her face was bloodshot like she had been crying, but her skin was dry. "Freedom," she breathed. "I need to be free."

Whatever it was, the nurse found herself wanting to comply with her request deeply. But the two of them both knew that was not going to happen. Certainly not now, and most likely, never. Something had broken this girl beyond the state of repair.

"Ms. Hermione Granger," the nurse started. "You know I can't do that."

A/N:

Hey guys- this is my first time publishing anything on fanfiction, so don't judge me to harshly. However, PLEASE leave criticism! I love feedback to make my writing better, so really, please tell me what you think in the comments. They're thoroughly appreciated!

-lubrocubicultarist