22
The sunset a few times, and I hadn’t laid eyes on Jack. I stared out of the window a lot. I knew every plant by heart, even though they were mostly overgrown with weeds and dying. I even started naming them. I enjoyed naming things. Naming something made it more real. That’s why I named Jack. If he was real, I wasn’t crazy and, if I wasn’t crazy, I could fight back.
As I waited, I tried not to think. The last thing I wanted to do was think about my father, Jack, or my mother and Jack. I didn’t want to feel the pain travelling through every fibre of my being. I didn’t want to feel betrayed by those who should have protected me. But I couldn’t help it. All I did was think. I didn’t even notice the other crazies around me. I didn’t hear the screams anymore. I didn’t see the nurses or the
