IT'S THE LIE YOU TOLD A THOUSAND TIMES BEFORE. Mick ignored her the rest of the month. But it felt like years. Eryn stayed home from school, telling herself she was sick. She was disgusted with her room; it seemed to reflect how she felt. Messy, depressing, and sickening. But mostly pathetic. Eryn was a highly impatient person. She could not stand her bedroom. She refused to clean it out of her own stubborness. She felt she could not sleep between all the bandaids on the floors, empty waterbottles she drank weeks before, wilted flowers she picked from her garden, and bits of food she used to eat. But Eryn didn't eat anymore. Everything changed since Mick. The bastard. Eryn pulled out one of Jane's notebooks and began writing on a random page in the middle of the notebook. She wrote and wrote. She sat writing for hours, but the notebook seemed endless. It was then Eryn finished, exhausted, and satisfied. She kept contemplating all the spectacular things she wrote about and... until the writing sank into the paper, deeper. Deeper. Then there was nothing left, as if Eryn's thoughts, ideas, and emotions meant nothing to the unforgiving pages. The notebook erased itself from all the ugly Eryn brought to it.