Novemeber 1
3:50 A.M.
It wasn’t talking. Moving.
It was limp.
I was limp.
There was a dark edge to my vision, fuzzy slivers of black and brown pinning each other down, fighting. A howling. A rich whine.
What was it? I stumbled to the window, peering out. I laughed. Ants. Ants painted blue and red. Red. Red’s a fun color. There were bubbles attached to the ants, glistening from…from…something.
What’s the word?
What am I?
The door. Why’s the door falling? Why am I falling?
3:58 A.M.
The cold was biting me. Sharp fangs poked me, made me leak. I groaned, face scraping against something cold and bitter. Cold and bitter.
The lights. There were beautiful lights. Red, blue, brown, green. A merry-go-round. I was on a merry-go-round.
4 A.M.
Something cold entered me. Writhed like a venomous serpent. Tasted like one, too. My whole world was pink and red. Red.
Dark red.
Why was I wet? Why did I smell so strange?
And why, oh why was there such a terrible shrieking in my ears?
6 A.M.
Oh God…my head was killing me. I blinked. There was a bright light flashing across my eyes. I shrank away from it.
“So he lives,” a dry voice commented from above me. I tried to look up. It was difficult, for there were…
“Why am I in a straight-jacket?” The person before me, a young man in uniform, raised both eyebrows, eyes wide with disbelief.
“You’re kidding.”
“What? No, why would I joke?” I gagged, then retched. “Oh God…” Thick bile poured out of me, tasting bitter and wicked. “Holy crap…what did I eat?”
“A whole thing of pills, son.” My head snapped up, sweat on my forehead, a metallic tang in my mouth.
“What?” The man—a police officer—gave me a hostile look.
“Of course, I don’t expect you to remember it. You were higher than the Eiffel Tower when you did it.”
“When I…?” A dark feeling stirred inside of me. Faintly, I remembered screaming. Female screaming. “Mellie!” Oh God. “Mellie! Where is she? Where is she? Is she safe? Is she alright? When can I see her?”
The worst thing happened. Sympathy flashed across his face.
“Oh no…” My heart stopped. “No…don’t tell me. No. She didn’t—I didn’t—no!”
The officer plopped a folder in front of me, then opened the flap.
I vomited again.
6:10 A.M.
Her…
Her….
Her…
Her head
was missing.
Blood.
So much blood.
There were stab wounds littering her stomach and legs. Lacerations on her left arm.
Her right was missing completely, slashed off her shoulder.
Her left wrist was cut off.
I could see her insides.
Could see the blood…
I wasn’t aware of crying. Sobbing. Of my whole world ending.
There was sound. There had to have been. But I heard nothing. Everything was gray.
Not a single color to be found.
November 10
11 A.M.
The prison truck was silent.
I was silent.
Everything was colorless.
No sights.
No smells.
No sounds.
No sounds.
Not a single sound.
It was cold. I was cold.
Mellie.
