So before I start sharing my life story with you, I assume we should get on a first name bases. Luana. Luana Canely. My name means content, or happy, which is ironic because I am neither of those things. I really don’t know why though. My therapist says that I am just a troublemaker and my sadness is a result of my own rebellious actions. That's probably why my parents sent me away to boarding school in Florida for my sophomore year. I really wish they hadn’t. It would have saved me a lot of my sanity.
I spent my remaining days in Vermont trying the best I can to vanish from my small group of friends. I could do without them being sad that I was leaving. It wasn’t really that hard. Nobody really noticed me anyways.
I never noticed how red the walls were in my bedroom. I always covered them up with band posters and artwork. I can still see the green and blue handprints stained into my closet walls, forever telling that I was there. With an exception of the ancient glow in the dark stars taped to my white ceiling, the room was utterly empty, like a birds nest in December.
I hear Susan call my name from downstairs and it snaps me out of my trance. The loathsome thoughts of Florida come flooding back into my mind. Shit. I can’t do this. My mind is freaking out and before I realize it, so is my body. I can feel warm water on my face which I realize are tears when I taste the salt in my mouth. I can hear someone crying. Then a bone-chilling scream that sends tingles through my whole body. I’m the one screaming. It’s like I’m watching myself through a glass wall. I also watch as my mother comes in and grasps me, trying to calm me down. Even though I’m not there, I can still feel her. She’s cold, full of hatred. After a few minutes she seems to give up. She always gives up on me so I’m used to it. I think somewhere along the way she just lost hope. Except this time, instead of just abandoning me, she gave me a pill.
There was only blackness.
