Broken Crayons

Some of the kids were there for abuse and some were there because their families were so strung out they didn't even know they had kids. They all had their own little story. We all had therapy appointments every week....I hated them. I knew I was crazy why did I have to go tell some old man with glasses. I kept to myself. I just did my chores and kept my head down. No contact, no conversation, just do my time and get out. You definitely didn't want to cause negative attention to your self.
I felt tough enough, like I could take care of myself. I know now that I was just a scared young girl living on lies trying to cope with a situation that wasn't going to get better for a long, long time.
I did have to go into the isolation box once. I swear it's a blur thanks to my mind putting a band aid over the mental wound I have of the whole thing. I feel that my mouth put me there. I had a strong opinion of a certain situation that happened on the school bus. I had been there a few weeks and one of the little girls that they had adopted was in the front while I sat in the back. Some bully started in on her. And yes I probably should have jumped in and saved her, but I didn't. Lord Take me now, because I didn't Get involved. I just sat in the back and closed my eyes. I didn't want any trouble. No attention on me, right. Well, I got home and the little girl ran and told on me. I instantly got sentences. Ok, whatever. Nooooo!!! I had to explain why I did not defend her. I wasn't a mean person, I was scared and..... GO DOWNSTAIRS!!!!! There I was walking down to the basement. I had never asked any of the others what it was like, because I was going to keep my head down and play by the rules. I remember walking past the dryer and washer to the room that they used when their older son came to stay with them. She had one of the older kids put me in the cardboard box and closed the door. All I remember is the smell of cardboard, sweat and crayons. In the corner I could see a tiny bit of light it was there I saw the broken crayons that someone before me had left behind. It was a cramped space with sand or kitty litter on the bottom. I started feeling the air rush through my lungs and hot air came from my nose. I felt sweaty and alone. I can't remember my exact thoughts right now as I'm writing this but I do remember fear and almost like I detached from myself. I was not Sheila anymore. I woke up several hours after dinner in a puddle of urine. I had passed out and wet myself. The cold air from the basement caused sharp pain to my skin. My head was pounding and my chest was tingling from being scrunched in that cardboard hell. I had been there longer then what I had thought, everyone was in bed except K. She told me to shower and go to bed. Nothing else was ever said. I laid in bed that night after I showered and played the why game with God. I didn't get any answers that night.