This story is fiction but based on true events. The names and places are changed the end result you need to decide for yourself. All too often people are accused of doing something that is not true or never happened. Read this for yourself and decide.
Sometimes I feel like I live within the walls of a square with all four sides tightly shut and no way to escape. Sometimes I feel that I am in the center of a circle that has no beginning and no end going round and round getting nowhere.
At times my life resembles a triangle, a scalene triangle with unequal sides and angles, which comprises my three different personalities, which are often in conflict with each other. These are my stories. Each one tells what happens when I drift into one of my shapes, feel alone and disappear into my own world. I am all of these people, and somewhere, I don’t know where am I.
I cannot deal with my life anymore. It is time to end the pain. Look at the rainbows in these bottles and all of the pretty colors that I can take at once to ease my mind, clear my head and allow me to rest without the throbbing pain in my head, arms and shoulders as I go through life in a fog that does not ever seem to lift and with a huge cumulus nimbus cloud hanging over me just before the thunder and lightning strike and the whole world explodes into one horrific bolt of darkness.
There are red, blue, green, yellow and purple ones in this bottle. I think I will take one of each. After all, they all work the same way and they help me deal with life so that the pain and sorrow that I endure will not be as bad and I will float into oblivion and feel like I am drifting slowly to a better place and time.
There are many reasons that people feel as if their lives are going nowhere and somehow they do not matter. There are many that even feel that when they are in a room no one sees them even though they are there in plain sight. But, what happens when you feel that your whole life is about to take a turn for the worst and there is nothing you can do about it.
You are about to disappear but not in the physical sense but into your own mind and a world of your own. It is a world so horrific and terrifying that you cannot control your actions, your words or even your environment. Before I end it all I want you to hear my voice and read my story. What happens when you are Wrongly Accused and no one cares!
I have spent months in this room collecting full pay and feeling worthless. Not allowed to perform any duties, not even clerical work. I spend my day daydreaming about things that I would rather be doing, my life before this happened and hoping that someday I will wake up and it will all be a bad dream. I feel as the others in this room have also felt unwanted, dejected, and having little or no self-worth. Sitting here in silence, living on the edge and feeling hopeless, I realized that prisoners in jail have more freedoms and rights than we do and we have not even been formally charged. These charges against me cannot be proven. I would never injure a child and I am far from incompetent.
What is even worse is that none of my friends even speak to me or return my calls. These are the same people who needed my help and guidance when they first started teaching. There is a general consensus among all of the inmates of this living prison that we are tarnished and diseased and not worth being near. Even those that are acquitted still have the stigma of being Wrongly Accused and have to work hard to regain the respect and trust of the other teachers. People with AIDS, tuberculosis, and other contagious diseases get better treatment than us.
Throughout the city school system every year many teachers, principals, guidance counselors and school custodians have been accused of many types of infractions. Some for abuse of some type on a student, teacher or administrator, some for being insubordinate. No matter what these people are accused of they are considered guilty in the eyes of the media, public and their colleagues whether they are or not.
Removed from their positions many are placed in situations that become untenable. Administrators are placed on administrative duties, but teachers and guidance counselors are placed in what the system has so aptly deemed THE RUBBER ROOM. Although the walls might not be made of any type of rubber, the environment is conducive to that of a prison cell without the bars.
This is a room where hundreds of NYC schoolteachers are sitting, paid full salary and are forced to do absolutely nothing. Deemed guilty as charged even before an investigation is underway, they are suspended from their positions and their teaching assignments are temporarily gone, but indefinitely revoked. Barred, banned and no longer allowed near students, the classroom or a school, they wait for their cases to be called and sit in an off-campus location waiting. Teachers are assigned to this room and spend many months if not years waiting for their cases to be heard hoping to be finally set free. Sitting idly by each day doing nothing at all they receive full salaries for doing nothing. How redeeming is that? Budget cuts, classrooms that are overcrowded and schools complaining about the lack of books, supplies, and money for afterschool programs and these educators, who might not be guilty are rotting away in these horrific rooms because as in this case I was wrongly accused.
Part One: How It All Began
My life is hell at this very moment. I had a great career, great family, and some pretty nice friends. But, when adversity strikes and you are put in the hot seat, everyone turns a blind eye or in this case a cold one when you need them. From having great friends who I would commiserate with at work to having a polar ice cap thrown in my direction, my life has turned into a living nightmare all because of one person. You would think that this person had any knowledge of anything that we do as educators. She does not. She pushes her pen daily back and forth on papers, attempts to sign her name to documents, but in reality, she needs others to guide her or things would be even worse. Never having modeled a lesson or really taught anyone anything, she observes teachers with not a critical eye to help and guide where it is needed, instead, she observes us in order to cripple our spirits, destroy our self-esteem and obliterate us from the system as people. We become the victims because this person feels that after decades of service were are no longer useful. You see we are the ones who have opinions, speak up for injustices and never cower to her demands. We are the ones who really care about the students and can not only discipline them and have control, but also teach successfully. Here is my story. My voice needs to be heard to prevent this from happening to others.
Part Two: How I Got Here
I have no idea how I got here or why things got so out of hand that I wound up in this miserable place with all of these losers. Well, I guess they consider me to be one of them too. I am not! I sit here facing these poor excuses for humans staring at their blank faces while I ponder my future and decide if life is still worth living. How did I get here? Let’s start from the beginning.
About a month ago I arrived at my school and entered the main office. The two male security guards blocked my way and told me to wait in the outer hall. They did not say why when I asked them and I was not about to take their abuse, any harassment or be embarrassed. So, I proceeded to try and skirt around them when one of them took hold of my arm and at that point, I threatened to call the police. Backing off they told me that the Principal did not want me entering the office and she would be right out. As usual, this wicked excuse for an administrator sauntered out about 20 minutes later ordering me into her office through the back door. She said nothing. Her facial expression was stone cold, yet I saw a glint in her eyes letting me know she was really enjoying herself.
There were five people in her office. Realizing that they were not school personnel, but police officers I immediately took out my cell and called my husband for help. I knew that I needed a lawyer but had no idea why. One of the men approached me and said that I was accused of drinking alcohol and hard liquor during my breaks and coming back from lunch drunk. I was also accused of hitting several students in my second-grade class. Now, I knew that they were nuts. I never hit my own kids and I rarely raise my voice to my students, why in heaven blazes would I do such a horrible thing. Even worse, I was not given a chance to explain. Taken out of the school and having my personal things placed in a cardboard box, I felt humiliated and embarrassed. They took me out in front of the students and parents in the lobby of the school.
In some schools, these incidents are not always reported. However, this principal reports everything and rats on everyone even if she knows they are not guilty. She enjoys the limelight and will stop at nothing to humiliate a staff member. She considers teachers just peons that work for her. Unfortunately, no one ever speaks up and she can be very intimidating. Most of the seasoned teachers that had been in the school for over 25 years either transferred, retired or started new careers. The fact that she is still there is mindboggling and horrific.
You would think that a person is innocent until proven guilty. Not in this case. I am a talented, well- respected educator with an impeccable reputation in a school in the Bronx. I was involved with the Union and served as Chapter Chairman for a while. Told them I am considered a drunk, child abuser and worse. The heinous charges against me were invented to force me either to retire who remove me from the school to show everyone that she was in charge and would do anything in her power to humiliate someone who did not cower to her every wish. Being accused of corporal punishment is unthinkable. Yelling at me in front of the parents, police and the investigative team, she proceeded to threaten to publicize this information if I dared to speak. I told her to go right ahead and let the lawsuits begin. But, I was getting scared and felt sick to my stomach. I did not know how much more I could take and it was just the beginning. I was taken to the District Office and placed in a room by myself until someone came to question me. With no legal representation, I was not about to speak to anyone and just sat there not know what to do. Calling my chapter leader and having her notify the Union I hoped they would send someone that would be of help to me. Not so. Administrators have too much power and they often abuse it as she did. She never followed procedure, she never gave me a chance to explain, she just acted upon what she thought as information provided to her by a child who was a discipline problem, her two friends that would lie for her and one teacher who was in her hip pocket, who I thought was my friend, but was not. Wrongly accused and heartbroken, I was deemed guilty before I could speak in my defense. Here is what happens when you are placed in what has been called The Rubber Room and what your daily fate is.
I was assigned to a single room in Barnesville High School with many others in the same situation.
Part Two: Here I Am: Rubber Room Resident and Worse!
I guess I was not the only one in my school to receive this special treatment. Teachers are not only sent here for committing abuse or many physical infractions but some that are deemed incompetent. Such is the blight of me, Virginia Green a second grade teacher that has been reduced to a shadow of myself since learning that I cannot a longer teacher my precious students. It seems that the powers that should not be in charge of the school and spend much more time locked in their offices drinking coffee and having meetings, decided that after many observations I should receive a U rating. But not just one, three consecutive U’s. No one tried to help her or give her any aide. They decided after over 20 years she was expendable. After receiving the last U I went to my chapter leader to tell me what my next step would be. But, since she was new to the position she was of little or no help.
As I think back to that fateful day I remember receiving a termination letter from my Principal. I immediately, as I stated went to the chapter chairman for help who told me to contact or go directly to the union itself. After explaining to the representative my problem I was assigned a lawyer to assist me with the appeal. Filling out the form explaining the charges brought against me, I started to cry. What is worse you have to be able to prove the allegations on your own. How was I supposed to prove that I am not incompetent if she says I am and has put it in writing? Well, Virginia start thinking. I wrote down that not until she became principal did I ever have a poor rating and that I could prove. I had letters from past principals praising me plus I was honored one year at the Black Educators Awards for outstanding service and teaching. If that was not bad enough she had the nerve to add two more additional charges against me. As I stated before she thought that I had alcohol in my desk. I am a typical tea toddler and never drank in my life. Added to that she claimed that I hit a child in my own class. I never raised my hands to my own kids why would I hurt a child in my class?
After you handle all of the paperwork on your own and you try and disprove the allegations against you, a hearing is scheduled where everyone is present. The hearing was in Brooklyn. The Principal is supposed to be at the hearing but she did not consider it worth her time and missed all three scheduled meetings and they are investigating my behavior. Each time a meeting was scheduled I had to travel with my counselor and each time she did not show they said she had a good reason. Even the superintendent was unavailable. It really tells you how much respect they don’t have for teachers. When the hearing does finally happen the opposing side, the Principal and the Superintendent state their case first. I felt at that point that I had committed terrible crimes and was on trial for my life. Following their diatribes, my counselor spoke answering each of the allegations in turn. I had just a few brief minutes to read my appeals and was not allowed to speak against any of the lies they told about me. It was definitely a one-sided hearing- THEIR SIDE. I was guilty without a trial. My counselor did nothing to help me and did not ram into them or speak up for me. I felt so betrayed and violated. What made it worse is you have to wait for the verdict that arrives in the mail. Only after the sentence is passed, did I have the right to request the minutes of the hearing and the tape? However, the tape was unclear and hard to understand. Appealing their verdict would be almost impossible.
After losing the appeal, I was terminated due to the U’s but remained on the payroll for the entire time before they reached their final decision. You can however still use your license but who will hire someone with such a black mark against him or her. NO ONE! However, I am sure that she had my name smeared all over the school system to make sure that no one would ever give me a chance. Even when I was given several interviews in Westchester, I was not hired because the administrators contacted her and she made sure they knew what had happened and probably even worse. Now, do you understand why I feel life is just not worth living and it might be time to decide which combination of pills will end my suffering?
The next step is the Rubber Room. After being betrayed by my lawyer who appeared to be on the wrong side of the table even though he sat next to me, I was then sent to teacher hell or oblivion for an unknown period of time until they passed sentence on me and the others in this room. Which brings me to the present.
Part Three: What Could Be Worse?
When you are sent into teaching oblivion you are not alone. As I entered the room I realized that I was not alone. As I said before another person from school was also there. These rooms serve as holding cells minus the bars where we await our fate. The unfair and scary part is that the people that are judging you have no real idea about who you are or what you are capable of doing. Instead, they judge you based on information provided by the people that decided that you are no longer worth anything, teaching is not for you and want to discard you like yesterday’s garbage without the stink. The horrific part is that you cannot bring any witnesses, nor can you get anyone to testify in your behalf. At least a real criminal can have his/her lawyer defend them in a real court of law and he/she can at least present a real case in your behalf. Supposedly we are here because we present a real physical and mental danger to the students. Not, in my case. There is no benefit of doubt as to whether anyone or I is innocent. The benefit of the doubt goes to the kids. However, there are no safeguards to protect the accused.
Part Four: Virginia Green: Hear Her Voice
Virginia is one of many teachers who has been wrongly accused of a crime. So many teachers are accused of doing many things to students, to supervisors that it became necessary to punish these adults by as you if are sending a small child: TO THEIR ROOM. But, in this case, the room is not theirs and the place is isolated and barren and the end result is what you are about to read about poor Virginia who was accused of hitting one of her students and using alcohol as her beverage of the day.
As Virginia takes her seat in this horrific room where there are no windows, one long plastic table, metal chairs and a bathroom for community use, she begins to go into back in time to where it all began.
The first day of school is always the most exciting for both the kids and the teachers. The anticipation of a new school year, meeting your new teacher, students and setting the daily routines is often met with smiles and sometimes frowns, Teachers begin by introducing themselves to their new students, setting up their daily routines and schedules, handing out their textbooks and placing a daily plan on the board. Next, rules of discipline both rewards and consequences are listed on a chart and the day should then begin. For Virginia Brown this was routine as this was her 20th year in the school and she was now going to teach second grade for the first time and was excited.
The first few weeks went without incident and everything seemed to be working out. Virginia’s class was very well behaved and her classroom was set up properly and her lessons were informative and interesting. The children in her class were happy to have her as their teacher and she readily answered their questions and helped those who had difficulty understanding anything being taught. But, that was about to come to an end after the holiday vacation when she got a new student named Darren who would change everything and ruin her life. Darren came from another school where he had been suspended for disruptive behavior. But, no one told Virginia that. Darren was a cruel and divisive child who manipulated his parents into believing that everyone was against him in his other school and that they were just picking on him and making up stories that he did bad things. Darren did more than his share of evil and bad things in his other school and with the help of his parents and their attorney, got away with everything. Darren knew that he had everyone under his thumb and he would use his craftiness and his false smile to get what he wanted no matter that got hurt.
Darren entered Virginia’s class the day after the holiday vacation was over and was greeted by Virginia and given a seat next to a quiet little girl named Kati Rose. Kati Rose was really smart and could not stand anyone that did not want to learn or was disruptive. Darren was a handsome and cute little boy who pretended to want to be her friend and Virginia asked Kati Rose to help him get adjusted to the class, fix his notebooks the way the wanted them, and explain the daily routines and assignments expected to be completed each day. But, Darren had other ideas in mind. Every time Kati would try and explain something to him he pretended to hear and lied and told the teacher that she was calling him names, telling him the wrong things to do trying to get him in trouble with his new teacher. Virginia did not quite believe him but she did not want to call him a liar, so she spoke to Kati Rose alone and asked her what happened. Instead of believing Kati, she called her mother and told her she was becoming disruptive and picking on a new child in the class. You see, Kati was very smart and some of the other kids hated her because they thought she was the teacher’s pet and they were happy to help Darren with his little scheme. Really sad that Virginia Green was doing to poor Kati Rose what others would do to her in the future: Assumed guilty by word of an untrustworthy student or an adult out for revenge.
I open my eyes and see the bare walls, the angry faces, the despair and the depression that is in the eyes of each individual placed for many reasons in this horrific room they have dubbed The Rubber Room. Why am I here? Let’s start from the beginning and you decide whether my fate is just or had been sealed without any due process, found guilty without a trial on the word of someone so young out for revenge. If there is supposed to be an investigation into the allegations made by a student or parent against a teacher why am I sitting here for the last four years? No one wants us around children because they claim we are incompetent, dangerous, and insolent to a supervisor who might have a personality conflict with the person involved and chose to set that person as an example to prove who is in charge and their power. Sent to spend our days in a room that looked like a prison cell we sat there and stared at the walls, read a book or just cried until the day was over. Paying us our full salaries to sit in a room and mull over our guilt.
I am sitting here in this room contemplating my next step and where I am going to go from here. As I look around this room I see one woman knitting a sweater, another man on the phone with his real estate agent and one more drawing pictures. I just sat down and began reading a novel that I always wanted to read and then walked around the room just to exercise and stretch. Many of these people sat there staring at the walls and looking so fragile and dejected. One woman said she has been in this room for over one year and another said for about three weeks. Someone else said he could not remember how long he had been there serving there at least four years. At times I wonder if it would have been better just to resign and get another job but that would allow them to win. When you are not guilty you need to fight but there was no one to join in the fight since my attorney definitely looked like he was on the other side.
I began to feel like I was living another person’s life and watching it all happen from the sidelines. I sat in this room and began to contemplate what I would do for the rest of my life, definitely not sit and wait here for my world to collapse even more than it already has. How can they expect educated people to sit in a room for days on end and just vegetate? Even vegetables grow and have a purpose in the scheme of things. But, where are the antioxidants to help prevent me from getting sick and coming down with something even worse: Depression, Anxiety, and Fear.
The fear that is building up inside my head and the feelings of despair and helplessness as I sit here each day just reading words that are meaningless, keeping a journal of my feelings and writing this memoir, I realize that my purpose now is to tell the world what happened to me and others and to help prevent them from enduring the same pain.
As long as I can’t teach anymore I might as well sit here and do something fruitful with my time. I am writing my story for all of you to read, judge me for yourself and decide whether I am really incompetent or not.
For the past three years, I have taught third graders. These students in my classes vary in range from far above grade level, middle level and those far below third grade in both reading and math. However, for some reason after reading the profile of the classes I was to teach I realized that many of them were really far below level and some non-readers. I never complained and knew that I would have my hands full and needed to create lessons to address the needs of all of the students in my class. Every evening I went home, went online to find information to help work with children that were non -readers. I taught first grade for many years and had the skills to work with these students. But, I wanted materials that they need used before and stories that would interest them. Searching the net I did find many sites that would help me address the needs of these students. I even approached the reading specialists in the school to see what help they could offer. The other third grade teachers did not have many students with these serious learning needs and gave me little support. Because I really cared about my students I decided to consult with the special education teachers to see if I could implement some of their reading materials in my class and perhaps borrow some of the beginning readers to work with these children. They were not only helpful but insisted that I watch them work with their students to get a better handle on how I could use their materials in my classroom.
I thought that I was doing the right thing and armed with more knowledge, more materials and help from others I thought I would succeed. Working with these students I realized that some of them needed more help than what I was giving them. One or two had problems focusing on the materials presented, three with tracking and two could not remember simple letters or sight words. One was diagnosed with dyslexia. Naturally, I was up against a wall with no way out. When the reading test was given, although I did provide practice for the class, I realized that they were struggling and could not really read the stories no less answer them. One of the other teachers came into my room while my students were being tested with a warning I was supposed to heed. Make sure that your kids pass this test no matter what you have to do and no matter what it takes. Staring at her I started to question what she had said but thought better of it. Repeating what she stated in a more emphatic tone, I began to realize what she was telling me and just thanked her for her message and her concern.
As the testing time drew closer to an end I began to think of what harm it might do if I just gave them ten or fifteen more minutes. What would happen if I walked around and tried to help them get more answers right? What would happen if I just stood in the back of the room and read the stories to them and made sure that they knew which of the choices to pick as the right answer? Who would I be hurting? Who would know what I did? The answer was staring me in the face as I went over to my closet and dried the dampness coming from my forehead and said to no one but me: I WOULD! Who would I be cheating? The precious students that I was teaching. Therefore, whatever happens will happen and I will not compromise myself or my ethics by doing what this person alluded to.
Collecting the test papers, on time, and placing them in the proper envelope, I began thinking about what this person said. I heard the teacher next doors voice during the test. She was speaking quite loudly and I began thinking, why would she be talking during a reading test unless—–. You figure out the rest.
The following week the same thing happened during the math test and I heard many voices at the same time speaking to their students during the test. I thought that they might be reading the directions, the questions, the instructions or more. All you are supposed to do is explain how to take the test and any written instructions that are stated that you are supposed to read. You do not read the math questions or the choices. This time one of the administrators came in and implied the same thing as the person did during the reading test. Stating that she hoped my students would do well and they were properly prepared and that I should make sure they had the best possible testing conditions and opportunities to pass. What was that supposed to mean? I guess that was another one of her warnings to make sure they passed since she had just given me a U rating on a math lesson that anyone else would have rated S or O for outstanding. She seemed to have it in for me and I had no idea why.
At the follow-up meeting, she stated that the students looked confused during the lesson and she could not follow the steps that I was teaching in simple addition with an exchange. She claimed that I was all over the place and that the children were not paying attention and I gave them practice problems to do on the board and independently that few of the students understood. That was not true. She even had the gall to tell me that they were unruly which was definitely not the case either. When I tried to defend myself and answer the points that she stated on the written observation, she ignored me and just said sign it and let’s move on. I did not. I went to my union rep and asked for some help. I never received a U rating in my life for anything. When I asked her how she would have presented the lesson she stated it was not her place to tell me how to do my job. But, it was to help a failing teacher before you cast them aside. I don’t think she ever taught a day in her life and if she did, I believe she was totally ineffective as she is the poorest excuse for a supervisor that there ever was.
After receiving my first U rating ever I became very distraught and could not figure out what went wrong with my lesson. She stated in her observation letter that the aim of the lesson was unclear, that the focus areas did not match the aim and that my motivation did not motivate anyone. She also stated that I did not use enough hands-on materials and manipulatives to teach the lesson. Added to that she claimed, which was not true, that someone tapping his foot on the floor and that by the end of the lesson they were all doing the same thing and I did nothing to stop it distracted the children easily. The kids were well behaved and none of that happened. I even had the math teacher go over my lesson to make sure that everything was in order. I did not have to do that but I heard horror stories about her post observation letters and discussions and wanted to cover all bases. Obviously, I left several out. She does have a habit of changing events and not even following the lesson plan and the pre-observation discussions that preceded the lesson nor did she pay close attention to the lesson being presented. Her eyes kept wandering to the clock on the back wall and she looked as if she was totally bored. Most supervisors write during the lesson and create a post-observation letter with positive points and of course negative. Those that want to be more constructive in their comments will create suggestions for the teacher in order to improve their lessons in the future. My letter was filled with everything that I did wrong and nothing that I did right, except show up for work.
I enlisted the aide of my Chapter Leader and asked if she would sit with me to write a rebuttal answering each of her negative points one at a time. But, the Chapter Chairman was of no help to me either. It appeared that everyone was against me as if there was some kind of conspiracy to eliminate me from the profession and to obliterate me from this world. I have no idea what I could have done to deserve this horrific treatment and I have no idea how to find out. My lawyer was useless and could care less. He was not going to profit or make any money from this case so why would he even try to assist me to exonerate me from this crime that I did not commit.
All of sudden I saw a shadow in the corner of this room. The face appeared out of nowhere. The smile on this person’s face was evil and quite telling. This person knew something about me. I could feel it. A chill went up and down my spine as I sit on this hard metal chair, my back hurting me wondering when this torment would end. I am beginning to think that I just might end it all myself.
Depression sets in when you are stressed, have money worries, lose a loved one or in my case are wrongly accused of a crime. Having no recourse and no one to assist me who really cares about what happens to me, I began thinking that my life is really worthless, I really have no purpose being here anymore and I do not want to come back here even one more day. The people in this room are using the time to create new businesses for themselves, write their memoirs to be published or buying stocks using the Internet on their cell phones. How creative of them to do this right under the eyes of these guards who are evil, the other victims of this abuse and the sinister face at the door.
When the day ended I became leery about walking to the bus stop alone. A chill went up my spine and I began to feel cold. I had no idea why I had this feeling but something told me I was in danger and that I had better be alert and make sure that I was not being followed. I could feel someone’s eyes penetrating my back as I walked to my bus stop and got on the bus. Sitting in the back would allow me to see anyone coming on or going off the bus. Right before the doors were about the close a young man wearing a hooded jacket and a dark sweatshirt banged on the door and was allowed to go on the bus. His eyes were bloodshot and gave me an eerie feeling. Staring right at me I knew that I was in deep trouble and had to react fast. I moved my seat and sat down next to an elderly woman and tried to start up a conversation with her but she just wanted to sit back and relax. I got up and sat closer to the bus driver but he ignored me too. Trying to catch his attention I never noticed this young man moving closer to where I was sitting. Sitting right behind the driver I thought would be safe. The seats are positioned sideways and sitting right in front of the door I would be able to leave the bus at the next stop. But, what would I do next and what would happen if he followed me?
Taking out my cell phone I dialed my husband’s number and tried to explain my fears to him. He said he was too busy to listen to my paranoia and hung up on me. I called my two daughters and my mom next and the same thing happened. It is as if I am the pariah in the family since I have been in that dreaded rubber room. The solution became clear. Only way thing left to do and I guess today is a good a day as any to do it.
Feeling despondent and dejected when I finally arrived home brings me to where I am right now. Sitting on my bed with all of these colors in front of me and deciding which one or ones to take first.
It does not really matter where I start. I took a red and blue pill and then heard a loud bang and a noise coming from the other room. Someone is in my house. I must have left the door opened. That strange boy must have followed me home. No, I did not leave the door opened I locked it so no one would disturb me.
Looking up I stared into the cold and calculating eyes of that same young man on the bus. He had several bottles in his hands and started to pour out so many of the pretty colors. He handed me some water and about ten different pills. I did not care what they were and what they did. I swallowed them.
You can guess the rest.
As he turned and left me on the bed he smiled and had a demonic grin on his face. He made one phone call and left. It’s Finally Done!