Page 51

The day passes as it always does—uneventfully. It’s a daily rotation of meals, three groups a day, rec time, curriculum, art and meditation, and one-on-ones. Every minute is accounted for and scheduled.

Some days, we have special activities or guests that come in to offer classes or give stupid motivational talks. It’s all a pointless waste of time when you’re a pointless waste of space. When each breath is more meaningless than the one before.

Lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, I try to think of a reason to hang on.

A flashlight pierces my eyes as it does every fifteen minutes until I fall asleep.

“Check.”

Lights out was hours ago, but sleep refuses to find me.

I’m restless.

Resigned.

Empty, aside from dread.

It’s the fear of having to go another day, enduring the weight of this indefinable hopelessness that’s slowly sucking the life out of me.

My heart hangs above me as the darkness takes hold of the vacant space in my chest. It fills me like the landfill hole I am, burying itself in my bones, decomposing me. Slipping out of bed, I pad over to the door and quietly get Rosie’s attention.

“Rosie, I have to go to the bathroom.”

She drags herself down the hall and motions, silently giving me permission to step out of my room. After she escorts me to the bathroom, she tells me, “Make it fast.”

When I close the door behind me, I slowly drag my open palm along the bumpy surface of the wall. My eyes close as I concentrate on the coolness of the painted cinder until my hand reaches the cover over the light switch. I don’t turn it on though. The moon casts enough of its silvery glow through the small window near the ceiling for me to find the loose screw. I use my thumbnail to slowly back the screw out, and the light at the end of this proverbial tunnel begins to brighten.

When the thread ends, the screw falls to the floor next to my bare feet with a lightclink.

I lower myself, pick it up, and sit with my back pressed against the wall. I’ve been here before. Last time I was in my bathroom at home and it was a razor between my fingers, not an old rusty screw. My body turns numb just as it did the time before, and as I stare at the sharp tip, my head goes foggy. It’s a peculiar euphoria of sorts.

Upturning my left wrist, I look down at my scar. I ghost the point of the screw along the pink line that leads to my radial artery. It’s a straight shot that I hit once before.

Phantom heart palpitationsthunkin my vacant chest, which begins to rise and fall as my breaths turn shallow.

Just do it.

Pressing the point against the scar tissue, I take a deep inhale and then dig it into my skin, ripping the flesh open as I pull it along the length of my wrist. The screw slips out from between my blood-coated fingers, and I stare up into a blur of sparkles as my body fills with tingles. The breath that escapes my lungs is heavy with relief, but I hear nothing aside from a distant ringing in my ears.

I sense the door flying open, but I’m too deep in this trance to move.

“Harlow!”

The screaming of my name blows into the glittery fog like a gust of wind clearing a path of visibility. There’s more yelling, and when the light turns on, I look down, confused as to why there isn’t more blood.

My hand trembles as I hold it in front of my face.

No!

Adrenaline explodes inside me when I realize I didn’t cut deep enough. Looking up, I see it’s Max who’s screaming for help, but Rosie isn’t in sight.

“Max stop!”

In a bolt of panic, I scour the floor to find the screw so I can hide it. My anxiety has me freaking out as an explosion of noise stirs chaos, which forces my hands to search faster. The moment I grab the screw, there are too many hands on me to count.

“No!”

The small space fills with my hysterical screams while nurses bark incoherent commands and I struggle to get away. I don’t even realize I’m still holding the screw until someone pries it out of my fingers. Kicking, I shriek in a storm of fear for what’s going to happen.