i go by Amanda's room, the phone booth, then my room. down the stairs to the laundry room, past the fire exit with the YOU ARE HERE sign. i stand in front of a door marked EXiT.
i push the handle and wait for it to hold fast. to refuse to budge. but it opens. easily and noiselessly. there's a tiny metallic clink as the latch gives way, then a clank as the door falls shut behind me. then silence. the only sound after that is the soft crunching of grass as my feet travel across the lawn.
i start running. the motion of running- the cycle of one foot appearing as the other disappears, the forward swing of one arm, then the other- comes back to me effortlessly. i feel good. i put more distance between me and the YOU ARE HERE door. then i feel a hundred eyes on my back, so i stop and turn around. the large picture window in the group room is dark. next to it, there's a narrow box of cold purple light- the bathroom window, where the light is always on. after the bathroom comes a row of black squares, dorm windows where no one's home.
i turn and start running again; this time, it's hard to get going. i put on a burst of speed, lose my balance, and stumble a little, then get back into the rhythm. the last open space between Sick Minds and the outside world is the maintenance shed. after that, woods.
getting through the woods beyond sick minds is easy; much easier than i would have thought. the trees are evenly spaced, with plenty of room between them, as if someone planted them in rows. they are pine trees after all. i want to laugh. but i don't. i keep running.
there's no fence, no wall at the edge of the property; i make a note of this, too, thinking how funny it would be to tell the other girls about how there's nothing really keeping us inside this loony bin. but i keep running, until the next thing i know, i'm on the side of the road. i pass an old brick house, then a cluster of newer houses; i run through an intersection, then onto the shoulder that runs alongside a highway with stores and more stores on either side.
i don't know how long i've been running. i put more distance behind me and i feel the white-out effect coming on, i try to hold one thing in my mind; my home address. i say it over and over and over, like the words to a magic spell. i say it over and over and over, like the words to a magic spell. i repeat the house number, the road name, the town, the state, the zip code, the house number, the road name, the town, the state, the zip code.
after a while, my mouth gets dry and my legs ache. it starts to get dark; drivers put on their headlights. my feet get heavy and clumsy; i weave a little, up on the paved white line at the side of the road, then back down on the shoulder. a horn blares from behind me; i trip, suddenly awake, gravel spraying under my feet before i catch my balance.
suddenly i doubt i even have the energy to make it the thirty or so steps. my feet scrape along the road, my knees go up and then down. i stop and wonder how there can be so little difference between running and stopping. i pick up one foot and then the other, and forced myself to walk the last few steps.
