It was only when the officials came around, when I had been sedated for about 2 years,-not constantly, but sometimes for long periods, when they decided to really put a priority on my schooling, up until then no-one really cared, I could read – I read a lot – it was the only thing sometimes at those places that kept me sane, and I could write, but that was about it. I could do nothing else – no maths or science. I didn't know how to draw or play an instrument, I was 14.

That was when my life started to pick up. I had this teacher/tutor called Sebastian Faraday. He had sandy brown hair, and violet eyes. He wore glasses and converse. He was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. When he walked into my hospital room I thought he was an angel.

When he smiled at me, I melted. He walked so gracefully and kissed my hand. His voice was the smoothest velvet silk.

It was when he walked out of the room, when I realised that I had no chance with him. I was a delusional teenage girl, who was going insane, had bright red hair, which was lanky and unwashed and emerald green eyes, which were tired and lifeless. My body was slim and battered. My pale arms held cuts from a razor. Where I had tried to release all the pain I was feeling.

"She paints a pretty picture
but this picture has a twist
you see… her paintbrush is a razor
and her canvas is her wrist
she paints her pretty picture
in a colour that's blood red
while using her sharp paintbrush"

I was never going to be good enough for this guy. I was the eternal darkness and he was the summer sun.

The evening after I had met "the angel" I asked a nurse who he was. She told me that he was going to be my tutor. I asked her why. She told me that he had been brought in by the C.E.O. to teach me because the guidelines for schooling teenagers in psychiatric wards had changed. I had to be brought up to standard. He was going to tutor me from 8 till 7.

I didn't know what to think. I was so astounded. I had no one in my life for years, almost constantly with me like this teacher was going to have to be. I felt so nervous. What if I screw up? What if he doesn't like me? What if I have an episode in front of him?

I had to go and lie down on my bed and wait for the sick feeling in my stomach to go away. I was on the fourth lap of the colours so it must have been a while because I heard someone coming into give me my food.

I opened my eyes and as soon as my eyes rested on the food I felt sick, they had mixed all the colours up. And it was all uneven. I couldn't eat it. I did have the small cup of tea they gave me.

That night was one of the longest I had spent tossing and turning in bed. I didn't sleep at all that night, so when the nurse came to "wake me" I was having an episode.

I thought that there was a person in my room, standing at my bed. He was holding a knife, he was calling me in. He wanted me to kill the bunny rabbit he had tied up – it was crying and wriggling. He wanted me to end its life.

I then had the urge to cut. Cut anything. My hair, my clothes, my skin, I wanted to cut, I wanted to destroy everything, myself included into oblivion. I started scratching at my wrists. I was going insane. When the nurse tried to calm me down, I lashed out at her, hitting her straight in the stomach.

I don't remember what happened next. The last thing that I remember was that I was lying in the middle of the room, with 4 big male nurses restraining me, and Sebastian Faraday was walking into the room.

I remember waking up, in the lockdown, the serious ward. You had to have been really dangerous, suicidal to end up here. You didn't just walk into the ward, they had iris scanning on the door to enter, and there was CCTV everywhere in the ward and was watched 24/7.

I had spent quite a few months in there so I knew all the rules. It was a shock waking up there though, I thought I was past all this, I was supposed to be getting better. What happened? I at that felt point felt so low, and so suicidal I almost didn't care that Sebastian Faraday walked in.

"Hey" He said.

"Oh, Hi"

"I am Sebastian Faraday"

"Alaska"

"No second name?" He enquired?

"No, I disowned my family years ago?"

"Oh, really?"

"Well Alaska isn't my real name, it was Alie"

"Why did you change it?"

"Because It wasn't my name, it was something my parents chose – I wanted something to represent me"

"I chose my own name as well"

He somehow managed to teach me how to play the piano, and the guitar. He taught me how to feel the music, and how to pour my emotions into the chords and the keys. He managed to show me that I had a way of releasing all the emotions that I had bottled up in me without having to slash my skin open just to get the release, and the relief of not being so wound up.

He read poetry and Shakespeare to me. He read them with such passion and feeling I was hooked. They were another way to escape my life.

He showed me how to make my life worth living. He showed me how locked my existence was, and he handed me the key. He gave me something to live for – music, poetry and him.

I started to write my own poetry. It was something to fill in the long bleak time sitting alone in my room, waiting.

"I never saw a thing, till I closed my eyes

I never knew anything till I lost my mind".

He whispered secrets to me, made me dream of faraway lands, dream of a future where I could be free, and travel around the world. He made me believe, that anything was possible. He made me feel normal, like a normal teenage giving me experiences.

He helped me to create a bucket list – all the things I wanted to do before I died.

Have one day in a normal high school.

See the northern lights in Iceland.

Go to London.

Do a road trip around the US

Feed a baby penguin

Learn how to swim.

He spell that he cast over me, made me constantly miss him whenever he wasn't around.