fiercebeagle
They escorted me through the science room, where black formica-top tables with high wooden legs held beakers and bunsen burners and various apparatus I could no longer remember the names of. "Here she is," said the guidance counselor. "She said she'll only talk to you."
The hair came out in a tangled clump, with dirt and debris from the field woven through it. It was like holding a small bird's nest in my hand.
I never liked taking pills, but they made me do it. I always thought of strung out rock stars and cheap prostitutes, but they told me these pills would save my life. They were wrong. I took one horse pill in the morning—it didn't look like a horse, but it would have given any Clydesdale trouble.