I wrote this when I was about 14 and it hasn't been edited since then. I have never wanted to because I feel as though it would kill the authenticity. Anyway. I just thought this might be a good way to begin my page.

"That all to familiar depression sinking in and I can't seem to shake it."

She shifted in the seat not really thinking about what she was saying, satisfied to see what would come out if she just let her mouth hang open and the words tumble out like something more grotesque then vomit.

'I almost wonder if I'll start it all again.'

"Start what again?" The therapist asked in a smoothly feminine and calm voice.

"I will start feeling that depression then I will start cutting and burning again."

She paused not really thinking, more pausing because her body told her to, "I will become increasingly more and more fucked up till I try killing myself again,"

She licked her lips and focused back on the doctor feeling silly for having slipped off into her thoughts. 'And I'll either achieve death, or even worse I won't. And they pull put me back in that horrible place again.'

She was gone again, away from the room with the soft classical music and the warm tan walls and back in time.

She shifted again; agitated at the feeling of her cloths against her skin, the feeling of her skin it's self. She wiped her hand over her face as if that would clear the feeling of her skin shrinking. It didn't.

"I remember that room; the room they locked you in if you were bad or feeling particularly suicidal."

Slowly her fingers had found something to play with nervously, what it was she wasn't sure; her sunglasses, her belt, whatever she didn't care; with every uneasy move she made seemed to make the doctor study her more intently.

Her face grew pained as the mental image floated back to her consciousness.

"The walls had stains of blood on it. They were cream and padded. And they had stains of washes away blood on it."

"What else?" the voice said again from a land that was so close but seemed so far away now.

"You couldn't wear shoes." She answered with a clarity that surprised them both. "And frankly cloths were optional, most stayed in their pajamas and no one really washed them. Because you didn't' want to leave them for that long. We must have smelt but we didn't notice and if we had I don't think we

Would have cared."

The split second that her eyes blinked she could see the room before her, she could smell the smell of the whole building, a smell she had not smelt in years.

"If you came to visit, you would walk though the locked down doors, thick doors at least and inch and a half thick with locks like guard dogs on the doors. They were so intimidating that it's a wonder anyone ever got through. Those doors hurt your eyes to see; yet you looked anyway for hours on end trying to figure a way through them. Even through you knew that if you some how magically got through there were at least 3 other doors identical to get though before the freedom of the outside world."

"Tell me more. What else was there?"

She looked at the woman. Was she still talking, the voice she heard sound nothing like the one she remembered, though it came out of her mouth speaking of the terrors of her past. No, it was not her voice, her voice was strong and secure, this voice seemed to shiver. Who's voice was it?

"You walked through those doors, the doors that usually scared the family that was seeing you away so they never would return again.

To your right was a small room big enough for a washer and dryer. It was neglected though, I was there for 2 months and it was only; used once.

Next was a large window, which let you see into the day room; a bunch of chairs were there, those chairs that you sit in at the doctor's waiting room, those, a ping-pong table and a TV.

Across from that to the left was a long counter, the nurses station, where they served us fruit, juice boxes, peanut butter and jelly sandwich cracker things everyone gets in grade school, and the medication that made us happier, made us stop seeing things, made us not wanting to kill something weather it was ourselves or someone else, or in my case made you insane.

Behind that counter was the place they hide your things from you and where the staff would disappear when they didn't' want us anymore."

Lick lips.

"It was tantalizing because you would sit there and stare at the little blue cubby with your name on it and know that all the things you wanted were in that, your CD player, your cloths, or for me a disk with your writing on it. It was there, you could see it but you couldn't touch it.

Anyway farther down the path was a smaller walkway off to the left, 4 doors, 2 on the right, 2 on the left. The first one on the left was a conference room, nothing special. The second one; Dr. Fox' office, the man who showered less then us, didn't brush his teeth, didn't shave, didn't change his cloths and always looked at you like he was waiting for something from us." She counted the thing's off on her finger but dropped them when she remembered one more thing, "and reeked of child molestation.'

The first door on the left was Lori's office. This woman was horrible, honestly the worst woman I have ever come across. Other then her I have never met a person who was honestly mean spirited. She not only made the patients even more suicidal AND homicidal, though only towards her, she actually made the parents suicidal. The child would say something like, I think the reason I am suicidal is I am doin bad in school and she would turn it around into blatant bullshit and tell the parents something like she says the reason she's suicidal is she feels the treat of physical and mental hostility placed on her always.

"What was the last door of that hall?" the doctor asked when she stopped talking, lost thoroughly in her own thoughts.

"A bathroom."

"And the rest of that walkway?"

"Um, the next door was on the right was a small room, no bigger then a closet, which they put you in when you first get there so they can keep dibs on you while processing your paper work. That is the place where if you are high risk they make you strip naked to prove you have nothing on you, "

"Nothing meaning what?"

"Anything from a gun to a pen to a razor to drugs. And if you aren't a high risk then they simply make you show your inners to them, your scars and they suck on them with their eyes and touch their fingers to them, then make replicas on the little you on the paper."

She felt the fingers trail over her left forearm, brisk and unsympathetic, instinctively she pulled her arm back against her and scowled, feeling a bit nauseous.

"The next room down the path was the classroom where teacher Lori would give you the best she could in affection, the only woman who understood what we all really needed."

"What was that?"

For the first time in the conversation she looked at the doctor, "affection. Love. Physical touch. We weren't allowed to touch one another in anyway, not even as simply as to give a much needed hug. All we wanted was to be held and I mean she never really held us, there was only once she did that for me but she gave us physical contact. She would put her hand on our back when talking to us, her thumb and finger on our chin while inspecting us. Any little thing she could. And we loved her for it. We loved her more then anything else in the world. Fuck even I saw that we all beamed when Teacher Lori got there in the morning and got a little sadder when she left for the day."

"Jackie lets go back to the hallway. What was next?"

"The next room was that was the room you went to when you were bad. The one with the blood."

Her tone had brightened slightly talking about Teacher Lori but with those words it shadowed over again. She quickly moved on as though in her mind she had rushed past the room.

"The next room was on the left, the first of the bedrooms. This room is the only room that held three people instead of two. This was my room. You walked in, well first you had to get a staff member to unlock the door for you, and you were met with 3 beds in front of you and to the left against the wall was a dresser, door to the bath room, dresser and dresser.

The first bed was mine.

The second was someone who's name I can't remember, Rose's then someone I can't remember, then Rachel's.

The third was the girl that slept all day, then empty till Rachel took it over, then Kendra's.

The bathroom was large because we had the largest room.

To the right was the shower that had a dark curtain as a door held up by rubber clasps.

The shower flooded the entire bathroom floor when you showered.

To your right, in front of you were a toilet and a mirror. The mirror was made by some kind of thick plastic and foil, unbreakable so we couldn't break it and hurt ourselves." Once again the girl fell into a silence and the doctor urged her on.

"The next door on the right was Jason's room.. Jason then someone's, then Jason and Cesar's.

The next room on the right was Veronica and Jessica's room, the only two girls that were there as long as I was.

The next room on the left was Randy's. Then Randy and Mikes. I know there were more people how stayed in that room over time but I can't remember.

The next room on the right was Arianna's. Arianna's then someone. The Arianna and Mallory's.

The next room on the left was some chicks, then the girl who ate her hair and did ballet, then eventually mine when I came back for the weekend.

The next and last room on the right was Shanea's. Then Crystals. Then Crystal and Angels.

And that was where I lived for 2 months, growing pale from never being outside.

There was a gym we got to go to when we were good. Listen to music and play with bouncing balls. Then a kitchen which we shared with the adults, who were even more scary then we were."

"What did you do there, was there anything you guys did?" the doctor probed deeper.

" We woke up at 7:30 am, had to be out for morning group by 8 which was held in the day room and it was facilitated by anyone who wanted to. You would leave your room go to nurses station, have our vitals taken and be given our medicine, as well as a juice box and a dry cereal.

You would draw everyone into a circle and tell the facilitator how you're feeling. Well Matt, this morning I am feeling angry, frustrated, sad, suicidal, and kinky. Then you dismissed to class for an hour and a half. Another group. Then you got a break. Another group. Ate lunch. Went back to school for 45 minutes. Another group. Got free time. Another group. Dinner. Visiting hours. Quiet time. Free time; if it was Sunday till the mandatory AA meeting, if not then till closing group, which was the same as morning group, then bed time. What did you do during those free times? Had therapy seasons," she answered herself, 'fucked around with your other fucked up friends, slept if someone was willing to do checks on you, went to the gym as a group, got your phone call. Played ping-pong. Did anything but think. Because if you did you died.

Sometimes this chic, Summer, would come and get us and we would go to this room a paint. I remember once, we were in that room and Randy got really quiet. We all kept talking till he started hitting his head as hard as he could against the table. Summer was sweet but Summer was small and weak. She could stop him. He hit it till he passed out."

"That must have been hard to see."

She chewed her lip, "that was nothing compared to some of the other things I saw in there." the looked casually pain stricken out the window, "it was absolutely nothing to the horrors I saw in thereā€¦nothing."