Chapter 1

I stare at the white wall, taking in every single detail about it. The way the blotches of paints curve to make shapes that only I can see. I haven't moved an inch since I've gotten here. They've had to knock me out to feed me, but when I wake up, I only move to sit back up and watch the wall again. The voices still talk to me but I ignore them. They first started speaking to me on that day. The day all hell broke loose and I literally lost my sanity.

Images flash through my brain as I see the events that occurred. The first image being, my dad laughing and myself on his shoulders as he pretends to be my horse. Us falling down as the loud BOOM of the gunshot hangs in the air. Myself, trying to shake my father awake as I sobbed over his body. Once they took the body away from me, that's when I started to stare blankly at walls as if they had something interesting to show me, a message that a quick glance at it could never show. It was hard on my mother and sister, too. Life fell apart for all of us, not just me. Mom turned into a drunk and Katniss tried to care for me, but soon our drunken mother started to beat us, blaming dad's death on us. And that's when Kat left; not being able to take any more of the pain that my father's death brought us emotionally; and the pain my mother brought us physically. Mom got tired of having me around so she sent me to an insane asylum instead of trying to talk to me.

I've never felt so alone. I mean, yeah, there's people here that try to talk to me and try to get me to open up and stop staring at the walls but I can't open up to these strangers. It's not like I don't want to. I want someone to help me, but the voices in my head and my feelings inside are saying no. I can feel the words I want to say rising in my throat, but they get trapped there and squeeze their way back into my mind where they will remain forever. With countless tries I realized letting words out of my mouth was pointless. I figured maybe the blank white walls had more secrets to tell than I ever could, they had their own unique stories they were dying to share with the rest of the world.

I've heard many people call me crazy- my mom said it, my doctors say it, even Katniss said it- but the reality of being insane is different than just being 'crazy.' I always thought that crazy people were the murderers and the people who did amazingly scary/interesting stuff, because that's what the world told me crazy people were. But the reality of being crazy isn't doing crazy stuff. The reality is having things stop, time going slower, suddenly everything becoming a whole lot more human, like the way I could see the wall's hidden messages and hear what inanimate objects had to say. If you were hoping for a story about a girl that goes crazy and murders a bunch of people or acts possessed, you've come to the wrong place. My story is just me slipping away from life.

I want to end it. My life, but I wouldn't know how to do it. I mean there's so many different ways. I could hang myself, but it's hard to imagine my lifeless body dangling from a rope, my eyes glazed over and skin pale. There's the option of taking too many pills, but the doctors would make that difficult because they only give me medication when I'm knocked out. I could slit my wrists, but I would have to move for that. Isn't it sad that I can't even end my life, even though it couldn't get any worse? What's wrong with me?

I need to do it. I need to end it. My life. Now. Before reality finds a way to make my life worse- if that is even possible. I guess that leaves me with one option: slitting my wrists. The easiest option. And I know exactly how to do it.

I let myself have another hour of listening to the voices telling me to end it before I actually do.

It's been exactly 3,123,973 seconds since the accident. 2, 629, 743 seconds that I've been here.

And now my waiting is up. I will join my father, and he'll give me piggy back rides. And before I know it Katniss and my mother will be with us too and we can be a big happy family. There will only be one flaw to this though. We'll all be dead.

Pale, cold, stiff, and our bodies lifeless. But maybe this will be a good thing. Everyone I love dead, all in one place. It'd be nice to see my family laying there in boxes in the ground next to me. Or maybe one of them will get cremated and they'll spill the ashes on my grave so we can always be together. Maybe we'll even all be buried together. Imagine that!

The voices tell me it's time; they scream it to me as if they're angry and have been waiting too long for my disappointing life to end! Without saying a word, I quickly and silently move to the bathroom. I try to lock the door, so no one will be able to interrupt me but the doors have no lock. So I punch the glass and watch it shatter. I quickly pick up a piece of the broken glass, knowing that I have seconds before doctors come rushing in. I slide it across one wrist, my blood staining the glass. I quickly move to the next one, knowing that I have no time to watch the blood slowly trickle down my wrists. Just as I press down on the glass a boy, about my age walks into the bathroom. He's very muscular and has brown hair and grey eyes.

As he slowly walks towards me, I slide the piece of glass across my other wrist and toss the glass aside. "You're too late you know," I snarl at him, tears streaming down my face. "You can't save me. The voices are already fading and I'm already seeing spots. It's just a matter of minutes before I'm dead. Just like my daddy."

The boy wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer to him. I fall onto the floor and he does too. I slide onto his lap and wrap my arms around his waist, sobbing into this stranger's shirt.

"Just sleep," his voice whispers. "And when you wake, I promise you will be fine."

I inhale the scent of him and close my eyes.

My dream started off like a memory.

Look at me and daddy! Mommy!" I giggle, clutching daddy's shoulders as he pretends to be a horse. I giggle at his attempts at trying to neigh like a horse and I know daddy is smiling hearing me laugh like that, the laugh he hasn't heard in a long time. Since mom and dad started arguing, I knew that something bad was happening in our home. I found it harder and harder to be happy when I could hear my parent's cruel words through the thin walls in our house. But eventually they stopped yelling at each other and they hugged and made up. I smiled at that and things became happier again, as happy as they are now. Life was amazingly, shockingly good.

I smile down at my daddy, but all of a sudden I hear a BANG and blood splatters on my clothes. Daddy falls to the ground and I scream and sob as I try to make him wake up. Mom and Katniss ran over and I could see tears running down Katniss's face. We were all sobbing, but the tears were not water, for it is blood. And there's blood, blood everywhere, running from our wrists and our eyes and dripping down trees and houses.

Then the scene changes, we're eating breakfast. Katniss shot a bird and a rabbit for us to eat. Mom is smiling as she cooks and I'm at the table, Buttercup purring on my lap. There are only two things wrong with this perfect image: one) dad's not here; and two) the house is completely white. It's spotless, not a sign of dirt or mud or color anywhere. Even my orange cat is white. Mom's blonde hair and usual grey dress is white. She turns to look at me, and her blue eyes are white. White, white, white, everywhere I turn, white here and white there.

I begin to sob and once again, the tears are blood. The only color in the room is the blood streaming down my face and the rest of my body. Mom pours me a glass of goat milk, the milk is not the creamy yellowish white it should be. It's a dark crimson. It's thicker than it should be. Blood. The perfect white room is anything but perfect now. It's decorated with the dark color of blood.

I keep crying and soon there are puddles of my tears at my feet. And soon, we're all drowning in my blood tears.

This is it, I think to myself. So this is what it feels like to suffocate and die. Who knew it could feel so comforting? Who knew it could be such a relief to escape this living hell?

Then there is a body that swims through the blood, the arms of my savior wraps their strong arms around my waist and pulls me out of the blood. When we are outside, I order the blood-soaked man to open his eyes. And when he does, I get pulled into the grey pools in front of me.

(A/N: So yeah, I don't really know what to put in this AN besides review and tell me what you thought!)