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"Don't be fooled, my quietness is not a sign of weakness

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"Don't be fooled, my quietness is not a sign of weakness. I'm just plotting on ways to kill you"

July 7th, 1992

2:25 pm

Selah, in her three bed room apartment, in Staten Island, started painting a picture with the tools that she had 'borrowed' from school. She had no intentions of giving them back. The doctor had told her it was therapeutic and would control her sudden outbursts.

What was she painting? That she didn't know herself, but it looked like some man with twigs sticking out of his head. If she could, she would paint all day, but she couldn't.

She became so engrossed into the painting that she didn't notice her mother's presence in the doorway.

"You feeling any better?" Her mother smiled, shifting on Selah's bed.

"A little," Selah quietly spoke, still engrossed into the painting.

"That looks like Ason," Selah's mother stated, grabbing the painting from her daughter's hand, "you two grew up together, remember—"

"I don't know who that is," Selah sighed, grabbing the painting from her mother. Selah didn't want to say a lot because when she did, it scared her mother sometimes. It was better to be quiet instead of yelling out her emotions.

"Oh okay," Selah's mother frowned, looking at her daughter from the doorway, "Make sure you eat, I have work. And if you go out, lock the door, and be back before the streetlights come on"

Selah nodded, understanding that she had to be respectful of her mother's wishes. Hearing her mother slam the door let her know that she would be gone for at-least 7 hours.

Selah softly hummed a tune to herself, she felt drained. Her sleep patterns were thrown off, the dark circles around her eyes are prevalent.

"I'm hungry," her younger sister, Unique, pouted. Selah took a deep breath, adding the finishing touches to her painting.

"There's food in there Unique"

"I'm tired of eating left-overs, if you don't, I'll tell mommy that you stayed after curfew and I saw you dump your pills in the toilet"

Selah scoffed, throwing her grey windbreaker over her tank top. She could never have peace, and they wondered why she was Bipolar. Everything ticked her off.

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