When She Speaks (Rewritting soon)

Chapter 21-

a/n: Sorry this one is short, too. I was really tired last night and it was going to be posted night but wattpad was having technical problems last night.  To  make up for that fact, There will be another update tonight! Thanks for reading!

Chapter 21:

YESTERDAY, THEY CUT MY WAIST LENGTH HAIR. Now, my hair falls in short stands and rests against my chin. They told me that my long hair would be too hard to manage but they didn't give me any choice in the matter. Now I look like the rest of the prisoners.

"I'm sorry they cut your hair. I was really upset when they cut my hair. It was even longer then yours." Hannah says.

I bury my head into the table.

There was nothing to hide behind anymore.

"You'll get use to it. " Hannah says. Hannah is right. Over the next week, I settle into a regular routine. I wake up in the morning to distant screams and familiar voices.

Then I walk into the cafeteria and see Hannah. Hannah complains that she can barely stand to eat the food anymore. We sit in the corner and Hannah tells me stories of her childhood. But most of the stories take place before the age of thirteen. When has told me all of her childhood stories, she starts recycling her old stories.

But, I don't mind. I like Imagining Hannah as child.

At noon, we stand in nine to get our medication. Then the guards walk us outside to the garden. We love walking through the garden. Usually, we are always observing the outside world from a glass window. But when we are in the garden, we forget that we are prisoners. We watch the butterflies flutter their wings as they land on our skin.

Then we watch the butterflies cross the sky and then they vanish into the open air. It's a promise of freedom. Then we sit on the brown bench. Hannah has started to teach me sign language. Hannah is one of the kindest teachers I have ever encountered.

She will spend hours explaining a single concept. Sign language soon becomes our secret language. Hannah occupies most of my days. During the mid afternoon, I'm whisked away to a therapist. The therapist taps his black pen against his notepad and notes facts about my behavior. He tells me that he can't help me if I don't speak. But night is the worse. Every moment spent away from Hannah is torture.

I think of the life I left behind. The darkness creeps back into my skin. I try not to think about the fact that my mother still hasn't visited

I'm not sure if she will ever visit me. Hannah even went on a limp to ask one of the guards if we could share a cell. The nurses were stunned. The nurses are concerned that Hannah and I are growing too close.

But, I don't know what I would do if the staff decided to separate us.

Hannah is the only light I can see and we share the dream. We just want to be free from this place.