Red, Red Wine

Princess had psychological issues. That's why she was in a therapeutic high school. In contrast with her pale white skin, Princess wore dark colors all the time. She wasn't much of a talker either. At first, I thought Princess' unwillingness to speak was a function of her being shy. It turned out that she suffered from anxiety, depression, and bipolar disorder.

I took a liking to Princess despite her subdued nature. Princess' reticence was not a reflection of her intelligence by any means. She was very bright. Even though brevity defined our interactions, I was always struck by her keen level of insight. Getting her to consistently share those deep thoughts was a challenge, however.

Even though I didn't have much experience working with young people suffering from emotional issues, I knew better than to push too much. It didn't seem like much was needed to put Princess over the edge. One morning I reluctantly asked Princess to complete an assignment. She didn't seem to be in a good mood, but I was getting pressure from my supervisor to get paperwork done sooner. Up until that point, I had resigned myself to collecting assignments from Princess on a different timetable for fear of agitating her. On this morning, however, I decided to pry more than usual.

Surprisingly, Princess complied with my request to get her paperwork done. Prior to completing the forms, Princess asked if she could go to the bathroom. I granted her permission to go. Just so she wouldn't take long, I accompanied her to the lady's room and waited outside...

When we got back to the office, I asked if she was ready to complete the form. Princess said she couldn't write. As I was asking her why she was unable do it, I looked down and saw a stream of blood coming from a wound on her arm. Princess had slit the inside of her forearm with a diabetic needle while she was in the bathroom.