I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not. How dare you even ask. I'm not.

 Trees are whispering. Do you hear them? They are whipping and frothing in the icy air, calling. I like the snowfall. Crunchy and soft and wet on my tongue when I bend down to scoop up a taste, fingertips burning against the cold. Water! Real water! No bowls or glasses for me, no ma'am, because I might try to drown. So they gave me water from the little sponge, but not now! Snow turned to water tastes like cold freedom.

I ran away. I told mother I was not crazy and to prove it, I ran away. I stole an intern's hat and stuffed up all my hair inside. I took her big fluffy coat, too. I have the jeans and shoes from when mother put me here. The cold is getting in though. It blows into cracks and folds, splinters into my flesh, sucks on my bones. So cold.

Is that a dog? Puppy! I used to have a dog. Her name was Bella. In fact, that looks just like Bella. Hound dog, black fur, brown eyes.

"Bella?"

Although my voice is swirled away in the winter wind, she hears me. Her ears perk up, her tail wags. She bounds toward me on her big puppy paws and I sit on the crunchy freedom tasting snow, curl up, and feel her hot, wet tongue on face. I laugh, pulling her close.

Bella. My Bella. The way things used to be. Pancakes and homemade whipped cream on Sunday, with real maple syrup. Cartoons and school and crayons. Bella resting her head in my lap when I cry because of the voices I hear in my head. My Bella.

I'm walking down the snowy path away from the Radley Institution, and who knew I'd find my Bella. Lovely Bella. We stand, and walk leisurely through the snow. Bella chases snowflakes, so I do too! It's the most fun I've had in ages. I pet her lovingly- I forgot the heat of her skin, the soft brush of her fur coat on my palm, her chest heaving under my hands from the playing. The way her breath puffs up into the air. The warm sound of floppy ears on muzzle as she shakes her head fiercely to ward off the cold, accompanied by the clinking of her collar. Her salty dog food smell. Bella! We play for hours, jumping in leaves and running through trees and digging in the snow.

I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy! Only normal people play with their dogs in the snow! Not sick little girls running away from the Institute. I'm normal. And so is Bella. Bella makes me normal. I haven't heard the voices since I escaped.

We rest a while and she checks on me, sniffing carefully. I still have little bruises on my temples from the Lightning Table, and my hair there is a little singed. My ribs stick out because I don't get hungry. My hands shake, because I haven't had my chill pill. Isn't that funny? My nurses told me that joke, haha! But Bella doesn't care. Bella doesn't see dark circles under bulging eyes or my Institution standard issue blue gown or my too red lips because I chew them bloody or dirty torn fingernails. She sees into me.

Suddenly, sirens everywhere. I hold Bella close in my lap, where she lays contentedly, unaware. I pet her, and close my eyes. They're coming, for me. I bury my face in her fur, and decide to wait for my fate, the inevitable. The men. Coming, for me.

-Point of View Change: Institute Attendant-

"Miss Corra?" Crazy. She is sitting in this 19 degree weather in the wet snow, rocking back and forth gently. Those big innocent eyes are wide, brimmed with tears. How she knocked out May, her nurse, I will never know. She's been missing for hours. I stop my van, and my men and I climb out. She's singing something about a dog, holding her knees, shaking and rocking. An attendant reaches out, taking advantage of her dreamy state, and grabs her.

"No!" she screams. We have awakened her. "God no! Please Jesus," she begs. Tears are streaming down her face as she kicks and claws, grasping at the chilled empty air.

"Bella! Bella! My dog, Bella!" she shrieks. The girl is howling in pain I don't understand. Is that what this is about? A dog?

"Hold her still." I command. I walk the narrow pathway of snow, scanning the ground. She is still sobbing, although her shrill cries no longer pierce the evening. Hot tears flow, leaving white trails on her cheeks, as she gulps and gasps loudly for air.

"Miss Cora," I say softly, staring into her empty, hollow eyes. "There are no animal tracks here, Corra. Only yours."