Eventually I got out of the hospital.  No more poking a prodding, no more chicken broth and jello.  The sun was warm on my face for the first time in weeks and I couldn’t help but smile.  The lady who came to pick me up was in a business suite.  She would not look me in the eye and avoided all conversation about who I was.  

	I knew my parents were dead, so she could not feel bad.  She was just very business like, referring to me a miss rather than my name.  She reminded me of the robots I had watched on the hospital television.  

	As I climbed into the van that she had brought and buckled in, she walked around, getting in on the other side and starting the car.  Before she put it into drive, though, she handed me a bottle of water.  

	“We have a little ways to go, so please don’t drink this all at once,” she said, eyesstraight ahead.  

	“Yes ma’m,” I replied as I grabbed the bottle and held it.  I remember the plastic being cool against my hand and my eyes being mesmerized by the slightly shaking water.  It seemed like it wanted to get out and be free, but we needed to keep it trapped.  

	I looked up and out the window as we got onto the free way and realized that I was just like the water in the bottle.  Trapped between the metal and glass, kept away from the trees and grass that I yearned for, that stirred something deep with in me.  The plastic crackled between my hands as my body tensed.  

	“Hey!  Don’t get it all over the van!” I heard the lady shout.  I blinked and looked down and saw the water dripping from the bottle  on to the floor, forming a puddle between my feet.  I loosened my grip and realized something.  Freedom would never come, I would always be confine somewhere.