Shatter me

I've been locked up for 264 days.

I have nothing but a small notebook and a broken pen and the numbers in my head to keep me company. 1 window. 4 walls. 144 square feet of space. 26 letters in an alphabet I haven't spoken in 264 days of isolation.

6,336 hours since I've touched another human being. "Your getting a cellmate," they said to me. "We hope your rot to death in this place, i mean for good behaviour," they said to me

"Another psycho just like you" they said to me.

They are the minions of The Reestablishment. The initiative that was supposed to help our dying society.

The same people who pulled me out of my parent's home and locked me in asylum for something outside of my control. No one cares that I didn't know what I was capable of. That i didnt know what i was doing

I have no idea where i am.

I only know that i was transported by someone in a white van who drove for y hours amd 37 minutes to get me here. I know i was handcuffed to my seat. I knkw i was strapped to my chair. I know I didn't cry as i was taken away. I know the sky falls down every day. The sun drops into the ocean and splashes browns and reds and yellows and oranges into the world outdide my window. A million leaves from a hundred different branches dip in the wind, fluttering with the false promise of flight. The gust catches their withered wings only to force them downward, forgotten, left to be trampled by the soldiers stationed just below. There aren't as many trees as there were before is what the scientists say. They say our world used to be green. Our clouds used to be white. Our sun was always the right kind of light. But i have faint memories of that world. I don't remember much from before. The only existence i know now is the one i was given. An echo of what used to be. I press my palm to the small pane of glass and feel the cold clasp my hand in a familiar embrace. We are both alone, both existing as the absence of something else I grab my nearly useless pen with the very little ink I've learned to ration each day and stare at it. Chance my mind. Abanthe effort it takes to write things down. Having a cellmate might be okay. Talking to a real human might making things easier. I practice using my own voice, shaping my lips around the familiar words unfamilliar to my mouth. I practice all day. I'm suprised I remember how to speak. I roll my little notebook into a ball i shove it into the wall. I sit up on the cloth-covered springs I'm forced to sleep on. I Wait. I rock back and forth and wait. I wait too long and fall asleep.

My eyes open to 2 eyes 2 lips 2 ears 2 eyebrows i stiffle my scream my urgency to run the crippling horror gripping my limbs. "You're a b-b-b-b---" " And you a girl." He cocks and eyebrow. He leans away from my face. He grins but he's not smiling and i want to cry, my eyes desperate, terrified, darting toward the door I tried to open so mamy times I'd lost count. They locked me up with a boy. A boy. Dear God. They're trying to kill me. They've done it on purpose. To torture me, to torment me, to keep me from sleeping through the night ever again. His armes are tatted up, half sleepved to his elbows, his eyebrow is missing a ring they must have confiscated. Dark blue eyes dark brown hair sharp jawline strong lean frame. Dangerous. Terrifying. Horrible. He laughs and i fall off my bed and scuttle into the corner. He sizes up the meager pillow on the spare bed they shoved into the empty space this morning, the skimpy mattress and threadbare blanket hardly big enough to support his upper half. He glances at my bed. Glances at his bed shoves them both together with one hand. Uses his foot to push the two metal frames to his side of the room

Stretches out of the across the 2 mattresses, grabbing my pillow to fluff up under his neck. I've begun to shake I bit my lip and try to bury myself in the dark corner. He's stolen my bed and my blanket my pillow. I have nothing but the floor. I will have nothing but the floor. I will nevr fight back because im too paralyzed too paranoid. "So you're—what? Insane? Is that why you're here?" He props himself up enough to see my face. He laughs again. "I'm not going to hurt you" I don't believe him "What's your name?" He asks. I hear his irritated exhalation of breath. I hear him turn over on the bed that used to be half of mine. I stay awake all night. My knees curled up to my chin, my arms wrapped tight around my small frame, my long brown hair, the only curtain between us. I will not sleep. I cannot sleep. I cannot hear those screams again.