I hated myself. I hated the snow that was still on the ground in May, the cold that cuts through my jacket in the morning. I hated ti see disappointment in my parent's eyes and hate in my siblings- The only release I can find is in my guitar, the only escape in books I devour like a starving man. "Nova." My mother said sternly now, and I lifted my eyes from my guitar to see her stand in the doorway, glaring at me like I was an intruder, careful not to meet her eyes directly. And I was, in all technicalities; I was considered the black sheep of my family. Her face was otherwise blank, and I let out a rush of air and braced myself. "What?" I asked warily, attempting to not sound as defensive as I usually did when someone was glaring at me like she was now. "Adrianne is missing her camera," she replied. I raised an eyebrow. "And...?" I tried not to glare at her now. I used to take things, when I got angry, or depressed. Not anymore- I no longer had the energy to do much. Not with the weight I've been forced to carry. "Did you take her camera, Nova?" my mother demanded now. "No," I said, anger rising in my chest. I wished they would just leave me alone. I was tired of going through this. "I didn't." My word was shit to her, so she preceded to search my room, then coming up empty. She rounded on me. "Where is her camera?" she yelled. I lifted a shoulder, feeling tears sting my eyes. "I don't know," I whispered. She pursed her lips. "Tomorrow morning, if that camera's not on the table..." she didn't finish her threat, and she didn't need to. I knew what would happen- solitary confinement. Again. But this time would be different. I wouldn't be here tomorrow morning. *** The stars above me glinted like a knife in sunlight as I trudged across the field that was adjacent to my home, if I could even call it a home. A cluster of trees resided in the center, where I was headed. I was positive I hadn't woken anyone. I clutched a container of pills in one hand, a bottle of straight vodka in the other. I didn't belong here, with this curse of mine, this secret that was always at the forefront of my mind, always careful to never look anyone in the eye. I was tired of seeing their secrets, their lives. It was too much, and I couldn't handle it anymore. I just wanted peace. I remembered once when I was younger, my oldest brother died. My parents told me that it 'was his time,' but I knew differently when I looked into my dead brother's eyes. I hadn't known I could still see his life, and I'd cried out in surprise and pain when I watched him die all over again, shot by who I'd come to call 'Uncle Jim', for money. I knew by then not to tell. *** The pills were gone , and I took one last swig from the bottle of vodka. The world around me now was deliciously spinning and blurred at the edges. Finally, I think. What a relief. I closed my eyes. They were too heavy to keep open, anyway, and I started to drift. "NOVA!" *** My first thought was that I was dead. My second was oh, shit. The lights, I could tell without opening my eyes, were hospital-bright, not heaven-bright. Although I didn't believe in a God. The notion that someone was watching over us and judging us singularly, was ridiculous. Someone must have heard my monitor beep a little faster, because I heard someone take a sharp intake of breath. I opened my eyes and squinted against the light, my head starting to throb. "Nova," someone said, emotionless. My mother. She continued speaking, without my consent that i was actually conscious. "I'm sending you away." --Three weeks later-- I barely glanced up at the sign as I entered the school building. I knew what this was already. A facility for troubled kids. Like me. The secretary was old and looked at me down her beaked nose. "Yes?" she said, in an I-really-don't-care tone of voice. "I'm Nova Olsson," I muttered, looking at my shoes. She nodded. "The new student. Your key is right here, to your room. 215B." She gave me an envelope. I took it and gave her a nod of thanks, and walked right into someone.