Why She Jumped

September 22nd, 2012

Blood was running down my leg by the time I reached the hospital, gravel still stuck to the would, my lungs burning from the lack of air. 

I was led into your room, greeted by your usual bright smile. The joy didn't reach your eyes, which my mother assured me later that day was because you had been tired. I know now, that was a lie. Despite you happy smiles and loving hugs, you were in pain. 

Thick bandages wrapped around your arms, almost reaching up to your elbow. I asked if they hurt, and you gently shook your head. I understand now; it wasn't your arms that had been injured, it was your mind. 

You described that day as your accident, though I'm now aware it was anything but.

That was the first time you had tried to escape.

 Your mother cried beside you when you fell back asleep, drowsy from the drugs.