Either it was the exhaustion or the pure euphoria of eating that chocolate bar that put me into a tranquil sleep that night.

This night, for the first time, I did not dream of the graveyard, nor of the snow, nor the blood.

I dreamt of the boy at my window, the fresh and open air; I dreamt of release. Oh, how wonderful it would be to escape these walls! Seeing that boy, his smile, even when the torrent of rain was bearing down upon him, he was still enjoying the sensation of freedom. Too long I remained contained in the prison of Ward 16. No longer was I an inhabitant, I was a prisoner. The state had no idea what to do with me. My parents were dead, I had nowhere to go and a record of dangerous violent relapses. What better way to cast off potential social disturbances than to lock me away? That night, however, nothing mattered to me as I lost myself in vagaries and dreams. I was running, not over graves or ashes or snow, but over large fields, under blue skies and over tall grass. And running alongside me was the boy, wild blonde hair flying in the wind, with eyes the color of the open sky.

The End

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