Mmmm, seems like you were right miss-up-yourself-paid-a-fortune-stuck-up-cow, also known as a psychiatrist. Some people really do just snap, and snap I have. There really is no other option for me. Around me people are staring at me, thinkng they know me and thinking they can help. None of them can. The only one who can help me is Hannah, and she's in the prison opposite. Maybe she can see me now? Hello Hannah! No, don't be stupid, this is serious.
This guilt, this inexpressible pain is right now concentrated in my left forearm. Still, better than yesterday when it was behind the eyes. Beneath me everything is awfully solid and grey, never really liked grey if I'm honest its too, too dreary. Although, considering the circumstances, fitting. The breeze is cold, doesn't do me any favours, all I feel these days is cold. It really does not feel like a month since Hannah was sentenced yet in some ways it feels like I have been suffering this torture for years. Perhaps it would be better if it had been and I could mnake it that far, time is the bets healer, or so they say.
You know what? I still cannot even walk into my own home without remembering everything that had happened and the image of Hannah screaming behind the bars searing across my eyes. I gag. I pull my jumper tighter around my shoulders and shiver, it's too cold.
"Stop, please!" Someone calles from behind.
I turn and see them. What are the police doing here? Oh, right, yeah. Hey, stop, don't come any closer you idiot, don't I look serious? A sigh breaks the air.
"Don't worry," My voice is heard, "It will all be over soon."
I tear my eyes from the police officer and back to the sky line. Huh, I guess it really is beautiful and I take my last step towards the people, and concrete, that wait to greet me.
The iron, the blood, my brother.