19
Laura woke early the next morning to the sound of the garbage truck collection. The shrieking of the brakes every few meters, the clunking of the bin being lifted and emptied and then released back to the nature strip with a thud. She pulled herself up to a sitting position and reached to her bedside table. She opened up Ryan’s diary, noticing there was no date for the next entry, and Ryan’s writing was messy, almost illegible in parts. She began reading again.
Ryan’s Journal
Sometimes when I’m alone, a blackness grips hold of me, pulling me down into a vast space of nothingness.
That's the only way I can describe it. It sounds dramatic, but that's the way it feels. One minute, I feel fine. I guess like an average teenager, and then the next I feel like there’s a thousand drums beat
