“Smiles, smiles, all around, a room full of teeth.”

Sitting on the bare, cold ground all alone, left only with my tears, I put my head down. Looking up hurts my head, and I reach up slowly to my temples, feeling the blood ooze slowly out. Through my blurred vision I see the room of people and gasp, about to cry out for help. My hoarse voice makes little sound, and the frustration I feel is taken out on the floor. Why can’t I think or speak clearly? Why am I here? Questions flow through my head just as the blood flows out of it. I look again at the room full of people and see smiles. Smiling? Why are they smiling at me? I need help! I again try to speak, and my pleas come out louder, but only a minuscule amount. The smiles are building frustration in my blood, and I could boil over any second. Damn them! Why are they not helping me? Ow, Ow, my head hurts. I taste salt and realize I’m still crying, but not from pain, only frustration. I can’t take it; I want to die. Kill me, Kill me please. My voice has come back and I scream at the smiling people, the fake dolls, the plastic room to kill me, kill me now. Finally a response from the people, but I don’t feel relief. The panic sets in. “No, no, no, I didn’t mean it, don’t kill me really, please help, my head is exploding with pain molecules. Please! Someone help!” The smiles close in, holding knives and clubs, waiting to tear me apart. My last thought is that if smiles are supposed to encourage, I’d take a frown any day.


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