This is something I wrote awhile ago and I really like:
I have tuna on toast for breakfast. I don't know why because I don't usually eat fish, and there was half a box of rice krispies left. Then I leave the building and go for a walk. It's one of those days that look like they'd be warm but theyr'e actually cold as fuck. Everything is silent, except for the birds whispering in the trees. I wonder what they're talking about?
... I killed her... the voice in my head was screaming and I had to shut it up.
I run to the river and leap in. My jumper balloons around me and the blood spreads out like watercolour paint. It's almost beautiful. I climb out of the water and shake myself like a dog, then I lie down on the hill. I feel the sun against my skin. I wonder what it would feel like to touch the sun? Hot...
...red...
...red blood dripping down my arms.
Only its not really red, more a dark mahogany colour. It didn't feel as good as I thought it would. I just felt numb. Then my little brother ran into the room. He screamed and ran off.
"Mummy!"
Mum and dad ran into the room. They saw me sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding a dead cats body, cradling it. The knife lying beside me.
Why did I do it?
Why???
After that no one talked to me at all. They looked right through me like I wasn't real. And two weeks later they sent me away so they'd never have to look at me again.
My name is Sasha Jones. I live with my parents and younger brother-lived, I mean. My favourite food was roast pork, and my favourite TV show was Buffy the vampire slayer. I played basketball. I suppose I was a relatively normal girl. But what is normal anyway? If someone was completely normal, what would they do? Eat normal toast, and drink normal water, and live in a normal house with white walls. I live in a house with white walls. Does that mean I'm still normal?
Everything is white around here. The ceiling, the bedsheets, the outfits we wear. In the winter, it was white outside too. When I looked outside each morning, it was like a large white bed sheet had been thrown over the world. The only escape from all this white, was the calendar above my bed. It has pictures of beaches, in different parts of the world. The little boxes are filled with things like "hat-making" or "town outing" or "Sunday roast".
I stare at my calendar now. In this heat, the beach scene is no longer inviting. The once golden sand is now a reddish-brown, the water is murky and viscous. There is a seagull perched on a rock. It's sharp eyes and beak point at me, accusingly. I pull the calendar loose, and put it face down on my desk.
Outside my locked door, I hear raised voices. Panicking. I lay on my bed, and put in my headphones to block them out. I raise my arms above my head. My arms are adorned with scratches, and from one of them, a tiny drop of blood.
I must have been asleep awhile, when I wake it's almost dusk, and someone is banging on my door. " Are you in there Sasha? Unlock the door! We need to talk to you!" Slowly, I roll out of bed, unlock the door, and slide it open. My head is groggy, and my body aches. But I can smell roast pork. My favourite.
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