Leaving him, I walk slowly back to my room. Leaves crackle underfoot. The taps of my heels echo loudly in the New England gloom. Black windows stare out at me like socket less eyes. Silence and misty dawn flirt together on the quad. I imagine the Fates with their toothless smiles peering down at my unhappiness. A twig snaps underfoot, like the snipping of the Fates' yarn, like the sound it makes when we are fucking. 

The girl that is me walks through an endlessly long path to get to Amen Hall. On the way, she encounters no one. Not even the birds are out. Not even the people. They are all gone. She imagines that when they disappear into their dorms they simply evaporate into the dust. Insubstantial, wispy, only to be recreated the next day a little differently, save for the same lifeless eyes. That is the way of sleep. We are never the same person once we awaken. 

While the other people slept; she roamed. She did things that good girls weren't supposed to do. She remained the same while everyone changed. She let the rich boys have their way with her. It was like fucking a corpse most times. She derived no pleasure except in memory. They mostly didn't move while she worked, and talked, and moaned, and screamed. In the end, they forgot that they themselves were the bad ones. The sun would come up and they'd go back to their preppy girlfriends with fishtail braids and Cape Cod homes, unchanged (however much she hoped to change them), except for a little bit tired.

She was always tired, but sleep was not for her. How she longed for it! What she would give for the dreams of her youth, to pleasantly escape back into those worlds, where she was a Princess and nothing could hurt her. Let's pretend we're fairies, she'd tell Cassidy. Let's write a story. Let's write about a school that a bad girl gets sent away to and comes out magical. Let's not think about how this is all going to change and one day I will be left in rags and tatters.