Her eyes were open, staring at the wall. She hit snooze on her red alarm clock that was always three minutes ahead. Rolling over in her bed, she lay there, not moving. The white streaked paint on her wall looked the same everyday, she saw shapes in the dark and light patches; a bent over tree, a cartoony fish. She felt the splinters in her knuckles from the fragmenting wood of the chalky wall she had merely brushed her hand across the day before. It felt dry, like there was no moisture in her hand anymore.

Her stomach felt empty, the low rumbling of it churning could be from hunger or frustration...she didn’t know which. She briefly thought of eating breakfast this morning, but knew she wouldn’t. Checking the time on her phone, she knew her mom would knock soon. At the sound on the door, her fists clenched, pulling tight the skin over her dry splinters. The noise ended and she didn’t move.

Still staring at the dirty wall, she sat up, her blank expression unchanging. Trying not to think about what her mom would say about it, she threw on a black Nike sweatshirt and the first pair of jeans she found. But, she couldn’t help but hear her mother’s voice echo in her head: “don’t you want to wear something cute and colorful today? You could fit in with the springtime!” Just thinking about it made her empty stomach twist. She turned to face the mirror, her shoulder-length deep brown hair hung the way it always did. She ran her fingers through it, but its shape didn’t change. Her glassy eyes made an infinite reflection between themselves and the mirror.

She picked up her backpack and closed the door to her room behind her. The stark white of the walls made her head ache. Trying to be quiet so her mom wouldn’t hear, she picked her way down the stairs. Passing the framed family portrait, her empty eyes looked back at her. Grabbing her keys, she tried to slip out the door before her mom saw her. “Hey sweetie, have a great day at school!” Her mom’s sweet voice felt like honey running down the back of her neck. She closed the door gently and walked away quietly.

She climbed into her car and started the engine; everything was normal. It always was.

Her teacher walked around collecting their reading packets on The Scarlet Letter. Her’s had been done for weeks.

“So, what did you guys think of the book?” turning around, his cheery voice asked, but she couldn’t hear through the buzz in her head.

She abruptly stood up, and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She turned and walked to the door, leaving her backpack by her seat.

Her walk became a run as she slammed open the front doors of her high school. She began feeling her heart race with a thrill she had not felt for years. She ran faster; everything blurring around her and the wet grass splashing up and soaking her legs with muddy water. While her cheeks lifted to make her mouth smile, her eyes stayed dim and blank, unchanging.

She stopped short, the cold metal of the bridge railing pressing into her stomach as she leaned over the edge. The water below looked sharp and pointed. The white tips like teeth of a hungry mouth.

A cocoon of air wrapped around her and she felt warm. Her deep brown hair flew upward around her face in the freefall. As her back split the water apart, her eyes began to smile.