Anesthetic Kisses

I sat in the back, slouching in my chair. I hated being called on and my counselor knew that very well. Last time she called on me I threw a fit and tried to stab her with a pencil.

That's what they get for giving a mentally disturbed teenage girl a sharpened pencil.

I sighed at the memory and tried to focus on my counselor. Today's lesson was channeling our anger in another form besides fighting. Was she stupid? That was the only us patients knew how to blow off some damn steam.

These people are trying to help us but all they are doing is locking us up. And for what? Because we have problems? Because we hear things, we see things, our tempers are out of control?

This place is inhumane and it deserves to be burned to the ground. I have tried to set it into flames, but each time I was sent to the sponge room. The jacket I wore every time was something I didn't want to wear ever again.

"Janie. pay attention," My counselor spat. I gave a hard look, I wanted to kick her fucking face.

"Shut the fuck up bitch," I yelled. She clenched her jaw and turned back to the chalk board. I guess she didn't learn her lesson last time. The scar on her chest should still be there though.

I stood up and walked out of class. What was she going to do? Send me to my room? Good. I'd be happier there than here. I went to the bathroom, with the guards following close behind me.

Can't a mentally ill person get some fuck privacy? I looked down as I splashed my face with water. The scar on my left arm caught my eye...Why did I carve that on myself?