Shattered

Evaluation

"What do you think it means?" the doctor said as he clicked his pen.
"That I have an overly active imagination," I smiled and moved in my chair.
"Well, it looks like you're making some progress. These nightmares, though. Do they keep you up at night with worry?"
"They're dreams, what do I have to worry about?" I chuckled.
"Smart girl," he said and jotted down notes in his notebook.
"Well, anything else you'd like to talk about?" he smiled warmly and leaned back in his chair.
"No." I said matter of factly and watched the birds outside the window.
"Okay well then it's time to go back to your room," he said and ushered me out the door to where a nurse was waiting.
I stepped into my room. The walls were covered in photos of my art, stories and pictures I took before I was admitted here.
I was in a mental hospital. See, all of this is a dream. Each night, I have bits of this crazy dream where I'm a suicidal girl who runs away and lives with her friend, Cara. My name really is Emily, but everything else isn't real. It's entertaining, really, what my mind comes up with. A bit scary at times, but at least I know I'm a good writer.

I just can't wait until I'm out of here! I was put here a few years ago when my school psychologist told my parents I wrote morbid stories and did a test on me and "came to the conclusion that I was a danger to society,". Right, like I would ever hurt anybody!

I chuckled and shook my head as I sat down on my bed and took out a sheet of paper to draw on.
I drew a little girl in a grassy meadow with the sun shining down on her face.

It was nice to make progress here. I was one step closer to leaving. Forever.