It's a hot summer night and the air is moist. I'm sitting on my bed, staring out the window. A couple sits in a gutter, sharing a six-pack of beer. They are Day People. I can tell because they don't have the mark of the Children of the Night. I am determined to stay awake to see what punishment the authorities will mete out on them once they've discovered their disobedience.
I went to the yellow house today. It's a weekly ritual of torture. "Katie! Look at you! You are so pretty!"
I wonder if this turtle even thinks that I believe that drivel, it's what she says every time I visit. I was in a bad mood because I still couldn't come up with an adequate plan of escape. I sat across the psychologist or was she a psychiatrist? I really didn't care. She wanted to know about my week. I wondered which part of it she wanted to know about. The part where I ate my lunch in the bathroom at school because the jerk that was Robert Schaeffer called me a dyke, because I refuted all his advances? Or maybe when my father called me worthless after accusing me of something I didn't do? Or maybe she wanted to know just how sitting across her, I felt like my head and eyes were about to explode into a kaleidoscope of violent emotions. The session didn't achieve anything. I didn't tell her what was on my mind because I know she didn't care. I don't understand why everyone seems to think that I want to change or fix anything. All I want to do is to escape.
The Day couple is still there. I am starting to wonder whether they might be a figment of my imagination.
A shadow moved in the shade behind the streetlights... a man. His gaze locked with mine and a surge of hope ran through my entire body. He was devastatingly handsome and his green eyes were captivating. Finally, my escape.
Today is the 31st of December 2013 and it seems as though the year ahead will be good to me.