I woke up early one Tuesday morning, yawning. I lick my dry, cracked lips. "It's the start of a new day!" I say as positive as I can be at this point.
I hop out of bed and run over to the rusty old vanity, looking in the broken mirror. Through the distorted shards I saw a girl standing there. A girl who had changed a lot in a year, a girl who had just turned 16.
"Happy birthday," I whisper to myself. I pull a match shakily out of my pocket. I run it over the old wood of the 100 year old dresser. The flame caught in sparks flying out slowly over the deep black head of the match.
"Make a wish," I told myself. I sucked in a small breath before blowing it slowly out of my thin lungs. The flame ceases to exist after that. It went out in a crisp well-earned flash.
It was gone in a lick, just like hope. I wen to the other side of the tiny room to wear the closet stood. It was smaller than most closets, made only to hold the important things.
In this asylum, unlike most, you can wear real clothes, no uniforms. Each girl gets one dress, seven normal outfits, seven pairs of pjs, and one pair of shoes. It's similar for the boys. All clothes are replaced yearly unless needed sooner.
Most people pick the first thing they see in the catalog, but I actually take time to think about it. I planned my outfits very well this year. The dress I picked was specifically for today.
I pulled the neon green dress from the closet, laying it on the bed. I take a deep breath, the only time we were allowed to wear fancy clothes was on special occasions. I just hope my 16th birthday is special enough.
I take off the pjs I had on, throwing them on the floor before pulling the dress over my head. It was just above mid thigh and strapless. I pulled my combat boots on. (There the only shoes I have.)
I walk back over to the vanity looking back in the cracked mirror. I play with my hair before putting it in a right sided fishtail braid. I smile in the mirror and the girl smiles back, we are ready for the day.
I walk out of my room, room 13, down the hall towards the dining hall. No one lives down the corridor I live except for me, apparently I'm a sleep screamer.
I pass some boys on the way there. A cute blond boy with blue eyes looks me up and down before realizing who I am. When he does he quickly looks away. I think his name is Niall. He came here when he was 14 now he is 18, two years older than me. He checked himself in and no body knows why. No one dares to ask.
He and the other three boys walk away with freighted looks on their faces. I sigh, those kinds of looks just come from being me.
I soon reached the dining hall and see my friends sitting at our usual table. I walk towards them with a huge smile on my face, "hey guys! What do you think?" I ask doing a little twirl. "I think you look hot," says Drummer. Drummer is a 17 year old boy with a truth complex. He never lies. His parents checked him in when he was 6 and sometimes I can see why.
I laugh as I sit down, "you're a riot Drummer!" I hoot.
"Well you definitely look good!" Twist my BFF says.
Twist is a 15 year old girl who is like me, suspected to be disturbed. Her parents checked her in when she was 8, we've been best friends ever since.
Just then Madam Tea burst through the door with security guards following. The guards had someone with them. I didn't recognize him. He must be new.
He seemed to be about 18 or 19, with tall broad shoulders and curly brown hair. Her wore a thick leather jacket with dark black jeans. Tattoos swirled out of his shirt collar and the edges of his combat boots. Our eyes touched for a split second, they were glowing green orbs.
Madam Tea tapped her fingers on the microphone to get our attention. Silence.
"Everyone, we have a new boy jointing us today and his name is..."
The boy broke away from the guards and grabbed the microphone, "Harry Styles."