Summary: A girl believes she has murdered her best friend but no one else believes her.

A/N: This is my first publication on FictionPress. I would like any and ALL reviews...that is why I published it!

Disclaimer: The stuff written here is MINE. Do not steal and do not copy. I worked hard on this. The characters are not based on anything and have nothing to do with anyone in real life.


I have a small confession. I have broken the law. No, not some small law, like jaywalking. A huge law that gets some people a jail cell for the rest of their lives. One word:


"Sarah, talk to me." If those are not the dumbest four words my shrink has ever uttered, I don't know what is. Hello, lady! I haven't talked for four months, the whole time I have been in this nuthouse.

"Sarah, if you don't talk today, your pillow will be taken away." Don't you get it? No matter how much you take away, it won't make me talk. You've starved me for four days, made me sleep on the ground for a week, made me do the whole wing's chores for a month, and forbid me from television, phone calls, computer time, and anything else fun since the third day here. But it's only made me stronger. If the government won't punish me for the crime, then I will.

"Fine, Sarah. If you refuse to talk yet again, then I don't see why I should waste my breath. But know this- what you're doing won't solve the problem. It won't turn back time and erase what you did. Donna is dead, Sarah. You must move past it." How dare she bring up Donna? How DARE she! Move past it? Move PAST it? You try moving past your best friend of only fifteen years. Let's see you do that, Dr. Paverson.

You think it is easy knowing that you MURDERED your dearest friend? You think my life is just plain peachy living in this place? Where the heck do you come off telling me that "it won't solve the problem"? You don't even know what the problem is. How could you? You've only known me for four months and haven't heard a single word come out of my mouth. Let me tell you, Dr. Paverson, that those papers in that folder that lays on your desk every day won't tell you what's inside my head. I think I'm doing just fine not talking. And guess what? While it can't fix your problem, it sure does fix mine.

"No way. No way! No way, no way, no way! He did not! He did not! He did?" On and on my roommate Jessica chatters. One wild guess who she is talking to: Kelly Wilsons. Kelly is Jessica's best friend. They talk on the phone for at least an hour every day. Donna and I were never like that.

"Sarah! Guess what?" A pointless question if there ever was one, but then again, that's Jessica. She carries on conversations with me as if I'm actually talking. "Steven is coming to visit on Tuesday! You had better start talking before then if you want to hook up with him." Steven is Jessica's hot older brother. The kind of guy that, if I was a normal seventeen year old instead of a crazy killer, I would lay on all the charm to impress. A shy grin spreads across my face.

"What did I tell you, Sarah? I knew you liked him!" She says the same thing every time Steven comes, but that's what makes it fun. Jessica and I have been friends for longer than four months. We both have lived in the same neighborhood for three years. I didn't know her all that well until she switched from a private school to the public school five minutes from our houses. She's in for anorexia, although why she would want to make herself skinnier than she already is, is beyond me. Then again, I'm the one who committed murder, so maybe I'm the one who's got it backwards.

"We have got to find you something absolutely fabulous to wear Tuesday. This time, I know he will ask you out." Again, same thing she says every time, but each time they get to me.

Maybe I'll just talk for the hour or two Steven is here. Jessica won't tell if I ask her not to. I'm allowed to have some nice things in life, right? Like Dr. Paverson says, I can't keep doing this for the rest of my life. Donna would want me to be happy.

Donna. Donna would want so much. If it wasn't for me, Donna would have so much. I don't deserve happiness. Happiness involves talking and Steven. How could I have considered talking? Talking only gets you in trouble. Nobody pays attention to what you say when you talk, so why bother? I know from experience where talking gets you and Daddy always says experience is the greatest teacher of all.

"So, Sarah… How is sleep without a lovely, cool pillow under your head?" Dr. Paverson asks in our session the next morning. Sleep is great without a pillow, I answer in my head. Can't you tell I slept well by the dark circles under my eyes? Honestly though, I slept well. No dreams of Donna last night, which means a good night. Of course, Dr. Paverson is no mind reader (as she has so often informed me), so she doesn't hear my answer.

"I didn't think so," she says smugly. You entertain me, Paverson. Do you actually think I am that simple, that my case is in black and white? I know it tells you that on the night of February seventeenth, in a lapse of depression, I made bad decisions and ended up murdering Donna Marino. I know it tells you that my parents claimed they had no idea their precious child was a walking lunatic. I know it tells you that I was found guilty and was in juvie for a little while before I was taken out when they realized I was suicidal as a result of depression. I also know that it doesn't tell you I poured myself out to the nice-looking police woman and all she did was load me into the ambulance with a pitying look. It doesn't tell you anything that matters, anything that incriminates me. Just things that make me out to be an insane teenager who happens to have committed murder, but isn't blamed for the crime.

"…maybe we should wrap it up for today," Dr. Paverson is saying. "Go up to your room and take a nap, okay?" She is looking at me with sincere concern. You know what, Dr. Paverson? That is the best idea you have had yet. If I can just make it out of this chair and up one flight.…

I awake not rested and refreshed, as I had hoped, but suddenly and in pain. I turn my head to the left just in time to see a nurse stick a needle into my arm. It is all I can do to not cry out and break my silence spell. Where am I? What happened? I went upstairs to take and nap and then… Wait. Did I every actually make it out of Dr. Paverson's office? I want to ask someone. Am I losing it? Am I really crazy?

A doctor comes in the room and starts talking. How much sleep do I get, how am I eating, blah, blah. I guess no one informed him I don't talk. Doc, can you help me? I am so tired. I just want to sleep. He hands me a cup and two pills. My vision is too fuzzy to read the writing. If I take this will you shut up and leave? I gulp down the pills and wait. He looks at me expectantly and I stare back. I never lose staring contests, but this guy is good. Hey, hey you. Yes, you, Doc. Can we finish this up after I sleep? I can't quite make out your face anymore. I'm falling fast and there's nothing to grab a hold of. I am going to die.