PHIL

Nights get pretty lonely around here. I've never known it any differently, but it must me lonelier and more miserable for those who can't sleep –people like me, for instance. You're left in an otherwise vacant room by yourself, tossing and turning on a cold, lumpy cot. All that accompanies you in your sleeplessness are the wails of other students who can't help but wail, and your own thoughts, if you can hear them. I can drone those voices out, and let my mind wander.

This has been my little niche for a long time now, ever since my foster family gave me up. The Jeffersons were the last in a long line of white-picket-fence folk from the neighborhood I'd grown up in, and was passed from house to house up and down the street. "Friends of the family," all of them: the Connors, the Mansons, the Newmans, the St. Pauls; and the others from when I was very young, the ones I didn't stay with long. Whatever debt they felt they owed my mother, they didn't endure the sulking by day and screaming by night (this was before I trained myself not to sleep), and I was quickly relocated.

And after the ninth or tenth home in six years, Lydia –my sweet foster agent, who still checks in time to time— dropped me off on the front step of Arlington Academy (for Troubled Youth). I didn't know on arrival that it was meant for kids and teens with any in a plethora of mental illnesses. There were a hundred sixty-seven when I arrived; I filled the only available room, as the hundred sixty-eighth. And so here I've stayed the last four years, but soon that too may change.

I twitched, and glanced out the window. I'd moved my cot right in front of it because the building faced east, and I could relax again with the sun peeking over the mountains, saying hello and good morning. Nothing put me at ease like a clear sunrise –not any therapy or medication they feed me could bring the same relief, not even close. But I'd learned how long the night would last, and the sun would sleep for quite a while yet, unlike myself.

I tried to relax into the well-worn mattress. I could easily feel through the thin cotton sheet where I'd laid night after night. At one time the indent was distorted by my shuffling in the night, but with the insomnia I'd managed to just lay still until the sun gave a hint of returning. I waited anxiously for morning.

Don't blink, I warned myself, biting my lip and staring into the darkness above me. Don't even blink; blink and you'll sleep, sleep and the nightmares will return.

I couldn't lie there long in my state, and hopped up, feet landing on the cold floor with a thud. I shivered, but stood and paced for a short while, before settling at my desk. I had a laptop; my internet use, the sites I visited, were strictly monitored, but otherwise it gave me some freedom. When I uploaded a video to YouTube, nobody would bat an eye. I thought maybe, if they were really supposed to keep an eye on us, they should watch it, but as far as I could tell the underpaid staff had no real intention of looking into the four-minute musings of a kid "with issues."

I set my cheap camera up. I didn't dare turn on the dim humming lamp this late, but the moon and some night-vision would provide just enough base light for me to fix later, for my audience to see me. It was far from the first time I'd film at this hour; it was an effective and, I thought, healthy way to keep from sleep. Plus, I did have something I wanted to talk about.

"I might be leaving tomorrow. Not the channel or anything, but the school. I heard about some rich family that wanted to take in a student for a year, or something, and today I was told they picked me. I don't know what that means or whether or not I'm gonna like it, but I'll try to make the most of it. I'll try to keep everyone updated!"

And that was it. My content was usually much longer, but every once in a while I'd upload just a little tidbit I wanted to share (they don't allow us on other social networks, ones that could not be so easily tracked). Everyone who watched seemed not to mind. I smiled and quickly fixed the brightness, which looked a little sloppy tonight but I uploaded anyway.

My eyelids were heavy but I didn't even blink. I'd trained myself not to, and they would itch and burn and tear, but to fall asleep would only be more painful. I didn't need to think about those things; I didn't want to wake up screaming, inconsolable, and need to be sedated –again. I wanted to cry –yes, cry— from lack of sleep but what other choice did I have? To be haunted by these terrible visions without escape? To call on a nurse who honestly couldn't care less, and would just tell me to "pop a pill," like always? No, thank you.

I stared out the window, my eyes well-adjusted to the darkness. I watched the wind rustle the trees, heard the soft gurgling of the nearby stream. I longed to go out there; I hadn't stepped foot out of this building since I'd been first made to step in. They don't let us out to play and romp around, not even the much younger students who could really probably improve in their conditions just with some fresh air. I know I would benefit from a soft breeze every now and then. My windows were barred, and the door was heavily locked. There was no escape. I curled up on my rickety chair, feeling too much like an animal in a cage. I buried my face in my knees and cried, but didn't let my eyes fall shut. Don't even blink.

I didn't know quite how long I sat there, bony knees pressed to my forehead. When I finally lifted my throbbing skull, there was some light creeping through the window. I jumped up and rushed back to my bed, kneeling in my mattress dent, and saw the most calming of beautiful sunrises. Pink and orange and blue mixed and tinted the dim sky in cooling pastels, bright sunbeams bursting forth from behind the crest of the distant hills. It was daytime; it was easier to stay awake now, as a hustle of noise started to set into the building. No one could sleep through this, none so less than I. I was calm; I was safe.

I was watching a fancy car roll into the round in front of the school, parking just outside the door. It had to be them.