This is referring to someone that is coming out of a bipolar induced psychosis: When it is over I wake, but waking is only another form of waiting with the li…

This is referring to someone that is coming out of a bipolar induced psychosis: When it is over I wake, but waking is only another form of waiting with the lights turned on and the mouth still tasting of copper and ash.

This is referring to someone that is coming out of a bipolar induced psychosis: When it is over I wake, but waking is only another form of waiting with the lights turned on and the mouth still tasting of copper and ash. (Do not add the text to the image) She should also have hospital identification bands on her wrists.

Chapter 11 The walk home was unwelcoming. Our silence was unsettling, and my conscience was at war within me, so much so that, despite my arm being linked with Bastien’s, I lacked the ability to walk straight. We hadn’t said our farewells’ to the lovely hosts, mostly because we thought better of walking back into that crowded inn. My eyes felt heavy with sleep, but also from all of my crying. Bastien’s eyes were locked on the cobblestone street, and I followed him with mine. Every step he took felt purposeful, as if he were determined to get me home safe without being seen. I wondered what it meant for me, now that Bastien knew. The past few days had been spent walking on glass, afraid I might fall through and mess everything up. But perhaps, with another two minds carrying the same secret, I wouldn’t be walking alone. Mr. Waverly had said he was looking out for me, trodding ahead to detect any danger. And Bastien. It seemed that he would be stepping beside me. “When we get home, you do not say a word to my parents- understand?” Startled by his voice, my head swirling with the snowflakes, I nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course.” “Good. We must tell them of the wonderful evening we had, especially given my father’s health. But once we speak to them, we must meet in the stable. You and I need to discuss everything. We need a plan in place.” Bastien was taking charge, and I could visualize the weight of nineteen years lifting slowly, him helping me carry it all. “Absolutely.” The serious expression on his face told me that, despite my fears of the Thatcher's finding out, Bastien finding out may have been a blessing. Now, I wasn’t completely alone. I just prayed it wouldn’t put this kind family in danger. By the time we arrived back at the Thatcher home, the windows let out a soft glow, likely Winnie sitting by the fire, awaiting our return. It crushed me just a bit to know that we would be lying to her kind face. Though, I suppose, not everything would be false. Bastien a

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