i giggle at a friend's joke and wave goodbye to them. i walk by the streets, kicking rocks and thinking of dumb old things.
i open the door to the house, and i am almost used to the sharp, berating voices inside.
i shut them out, and lay exhausted on my bed.
putting an arm over my eyes, i rest.
and wake up to them, looking at me with horrified eyes. my room is a mess-- a beheaded stuffed bear, broken ceramics, crushed scissors, a butcher knife in my hand, and warm, crimson fluid streaming down my arm.