2013 Diclonius

I could hear the soft tune of my little music box in my large room. It echoed eerily. I sat up in my little single person bed. The only source of light was the forever glowing lamp above my head, which I had grown used to. The light reached for five meters then gave away to the inky blackness of my vast bedroom. I looked down, the tiny mahogany music box lays open on the cold concrete floor. The tiny mirror inside reflected my face. Pale skin, bloody red eyes, and snowy hair. But within the fold of my hair, protruded a pair of pale horns, almost like cat ears. I reached down and picked up the tiny box. It fits easily in both of my hands. The soft and smooth wood was cool to the touch. I tucked it away in the folds of my sterilized white bed sheets, and lay my head on the scratchy pillow.