Little Lila

nine | never die

My head pounds against my skull when I open my eyes. I feel sticky but cold, despite the heavy duvet cover over me. It has a blue flower print, which is easy on my eyes. 

The baby blue curtains have been drawn open, and bright light seeps into the bedroom. There is a shelf with books and dolls, and a chair beside the bed. What's it doing there? 

As my eyes begin to droop back down, the door opens, and they fly back open. Mother enters the room, Alexandre next to her. She gasps when she sees me. 

"Oh, my girl! You worried me half to death. How are you feeling? I'm never letting you out of my sight again, you have my word," Mother rambles. 

"I'm alright. You don't need to treat me like a doll," I sit up, suddenly feeling defensive and vulnerable laying down. "I've taken care of myself for forever." 

Mother frowns. "I know, but you don't need to. You're still a child, not even thirteen. Children are meant to be cared for by their parents." 

At the Center, Sir was sort of my father, but, then again, not at all. Valentin, 28, and 67 were probably the closest family members I had. 

Sara became too crazy. 

She was always locked away my last few months at the asylum. 

"Lila," Alexandre begins, trying to keep his tone steady, but it wavers. My gaze flickers over to him. I swing my legs over the side of the bed. "Did you try to drown yourself?" 

I frown. Suicide? I didn't mean to end up in the ocean, but the waves kept calling me forward. They wanted me for me. "No? The waves wanted to play with me." 

They were my friends

Friends

But why did it hurt? 

I felt like I was on clouds. Clouds made of thick smoothness. 

I was breathing in

Clouds

Alexandre nods slowly. Mother takes my hand in hers. "Why don't we get breakfast? Do you think you'll be up for the ball tonight?" 

I nod. Evelyn will be there, and she's sweet. I like her. "Yes. Of course."

Mother nods. She then reaches to the nightstand and holds out a pill for me. "This is to help you with your... visions, my angel." 

I stare at the little pill in her hand. 

It's burning.

Burning her hand. 

The fire comes close to me 

And I scream 

"No!" 

But it's too late 

"Take this, 102," Sir says, holding out a little pill for me. "You're so difficult. All day, every day, just screaming. Swallow this like a good girl." 

I shakily take the pill from his hand. My breathing is heavy. I glance up at Sir, and he's smiling down at me with a sly grin. 

"What will it do?" I whisper, eyes wide on the pill in my palm. 

"You'll feel normal." 

I know not to trust Sir. I know. 

Know. 

Know. 

Know. 

Knew. 

I swallow the pill dry. Immediately, I feel like I've been paralyzed. I fall to the ground with a soft thud. My head pounds. My skin feels cold.