A/N: Thanks for the reviews, you guys! They mean the most to me, and they really put a smile on my face when I read them. I know where I want to go with the story, I'm just trying to figure out how to get there right now, but I'm pretty sure I'm working it out. So here's the next chapter, and I hope you get the little metaphor (similie? Idk.) at the very end. I thought of Jude's heart when I wrote the last sentence, and you'll see what I mean by it, hopefully. Enjoy!
-Edie
"I'm stupid, Jude. I don't know how many times I can stress that. I'm stupid, and a coward." You said to me as I sat in the visiting room with you. They had given me as much time as I wanted, which I knew would end up as a lot.
"Yeah, you are. Tommy, I'm insane because of you. Because of what you did to me, I'm in an asylum, and my parents have completely abandoned me, along with Sadie." I said to you. A wave of guilt passed over your face and you looked truly sad. The saddest I had ever seen you in the years that I knew you.
"I'm back now. And I'll do whatever I can to help you get back on your feet again." You were depressed, I could tell. Later you would tell me that I was a different person than all the other days you had known me.
"I've changed my lifestyle completely, Tommy. I'm not singing as much, and they don't even know what my disorder is yet." I said to you.
"That's okay, we'll work together to fix it, okay?" You said, kissing me on the forehead.
You promised you would visit tomorrow, and I nodded as I put a smile on and waved goodbye to you. But I didn't feel any better than I had the day before, or even the day you left. I still felt completely disastrous, and just knowing that it was the same feeling as the day you left made the emotion even stronger.
That night I found a pen that a nurse must have dropped, and I sat down, remembering the night three months ago in my bedroom when I had been picked up and taken here. I dug the black pen into the wall and popped it out. It left a small hole and I aimed the pen just above it, smiling softly as I indented again into the wall. And again, and again. Until the scribbled, tan wall was covered in holes that had taken hours to weld, and that would never mend.