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Jeans.

That blue faded denim, worn and soft beneath her fingers felt so good. It was pleasantly plush, just about to have to be thrown away due to a soon to appear rip or hole. Carol loved how jeans felt before they were thrown out. They felt close to the felt tipped nose of a horse. It made her want to smile fondly… Maybe her Mom knew that. Maybe that's why for the first time in Carol's twenty three years of life her Mom didn't complain when she asked for a pair of ratty denim jeans for this special day.

Carol was a little like those jeans herself. Stressed, about to fall apart. Used. She remembered when she was brand new, in style and fussed over. Just like these jeans, she had been put away. Stuffed in a closet. Her new closet was Higgins Memorial Mental Hospital. There she sat how, her dirty blonde hair cropped short and boyish. This masculine cut didn't detract from her large eyes that had nearly two inch long thick lashes and utterly feminine face. Her porcelain skin was make up free but still beautiful. It held the glow of an excited young woman. Carol's form, even in those grey sweat suits they wore, was petite and womanly. The season was summer. The thick Arizona heat licked her skin like a hungry cat whenever she escaped the sanctuary of air conditioning that was a white walled room. The White Coat's had tried in vain several times to get her to wear shorts. Never. Her legs stayed out of her sight as much as possible.

As though she could physically eject the thought from her head, she shoot it. She removed the sweatshirt and slid on the stripped long sleeve shirt that had been her favorite before she abandoned it to come here. She took a deep breath before her hands shakily seized the elastic waistband of her pants. Another inhalation, maybe this one would bring the courage and strength to do this. There where no mirrors here. Carol's eyes wrinkled from the force of which she pressed them closed. Her face went askew, showing signs of pain. She quickly and in a sharp violent motion slid the betraying grey pants down and kicked them away as if Judas himself was clinging to her ankles. Her eyes still closed, she fumbled on the white blanketed bed for the safe, soft and familiar denim. She slid them on and button and zipped them before she sighed warmly. By the way her body relaxed you would think she slid into a luxurious hot bath. She opened her eyes and smiled a stunning smile. She looked around the white room excitedly. Goodbye, so long and farewell Asylum…. She thought as she grabbed her plain black book sack. This place was a mental hospital sure, but here people understood her. No crazy looks when she explained her deformity. It was hell standing in front of that mirror every day. Carol had won though. She'd beaten this. Asylum also meant safety…and this place offered her just that. Safety.

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