there are names in the room that you don't understand, your spine protruding from your skin as they wrap the cuff around your bicep and wait for the number to appear.
you are cold from standing in front of the refrigerator, before returning empty-handed to your stiff sheets and locked door.
the man behind the counter, behind the invisible safety net, won't let you have the shower key. "you are too frail to stand under the stream", he says. "too small to hold the weight of water in your hair."
i look over at you, from my scale to yours. you smirk like you have a secret you're afraid of. i see the shapes under your clothes that are not made from your flesh.
i left before you, made up stories, convinced them that my hands were not as shaky as yours were. i let them put needles into my arms, i let them put bandages around my legs, i let them poke and prod until they were sure i'd be okay away from you.
but now i miss the white walls. i have dreams about the pencils scratching on paper as we try to write something that will creat some laughter in this building full of screaming.
i'm scared of you, and you're scared of me. or maybe we're scared of the devils in our minds. but the demons are friends now.
we have no choice but to talk.