The Suicide Notebook

The dorm I’ve been placed in is plain, bleak, white. The walls are a perfect canvas on which to start over. Bayridge is one of the last hideaways from the never ending reach of Better Living Inc.; the walls don’t hum with an overcharge of electricity and peculiar students don’t find their way onto The List. My father sent me here so I would be safe from their eye. I hope, for his sake and for mine, he was right.