Years have passed. I expected to be out of high school by now, but the struggle with academics has me back with my original class. Each time I convince myself things can’t possibly get any worse, well, you can’t even imagine.
Peter has graduated and is now the school’s chief of security. The head predator has been given dominion over the marauding packs created in his image.
There is some kind of screw up, the refill on my prescription has not been reordered. The head shrinker is out on a one-year sabbatical. He didn’t update my file. My parents are worried, but do not consider seeking another doctor.
Two months pass. The emotion dampening contaminants depart my system. For the first time since I began swallowing the poison, my head clears.
I again can smile.
I again can laugh.
I again can write.
Class work is easy. On this, the third month of my liberation, I complete my school work for the year. The softness and roundness leave my body. I am even watching what I eat and have joined Angelo to lift weights in his makeshift basement gym.