25. Moving.

    I sit in the room, knees up to my chest and chewing the inside of my jaw. My eyes are heavy and burn. I have a lingering headache that I'm quite certain is verging into migraine territory. My bottom is stinging. The sun shines through the window,  MOCKING me, as I cannot quite reach the window to climb out or shut the blinds. This is it. I'm nucking futs. You know you are in peak psychological shape when you think the very sun is mocking you, and you want to fight with it. I want to fight everything.

            I've already been in trouble this morning for being combative and refusing to eat or drink anything that did not come prepackaged and sealed. Knowing that my mother died by poison has curbed any appetite or trust i might have had. He denied me my morning shower, and bent me over his knee like a child to try to 'discipline' me with a metal