Sequel to "The Yellow Wallpaper"

            Why I have been put in this place I do not know the answer to. There are no lines or patterns on the walls here- how incredulous! The walls are blank! I do not want white walls! How will I see the woman? I have no way of reaching her now. How will I know what she's up to? She must be watched at all times. How will I know if she escaped? I have to help her. She needs my help!
            There was no reason for him to have fainted. How could John be so queer. He knew I was getting better! I knew; she knew. She helped me get better. I need to help her. How can I help her here? They do not know that I am still writing. I hid the paper. It was not easy- and I'm afraid much too personal to explain how I was able to hide it. But I did, and now I am writing, in this little room, and I am afraid to say I do not feel much better. I can feel the nerves creeping back in now. They are coming back. They do not know that these little rooms do not help me. I need to be out- I need to be helping, working. I need to help the woman.
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             My nerves are back, but I believe I've found a way to get them to go away. I have to do what these people say; I have to make them think I am better just as I fooled John. Then they will let me go, and I can see the woman. And I can go back to my normal ways- I must work. Working is the answer, I need something to keep me occupied and my nerves can go away. They are coming now, I must stop writing.

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              I did it! I fooled them all. I am out of that horrid little room with no patterns on the wall for me to follow. I am back home- John is away at work. There is nobody in the house with me today- I have the day off from work. I was right, working helped. It made my nerves leave me once again. Days like these when I have off, I like to wonder into the den. There is, though I never noticed before, a distinct little pattern on the walls in here. So here I sit- writing, watching, helping the poor man that is trapped inside these walls.