Maniac

The Mirror

Lizette's POV

The man--I can't remember his name--comes back again.

I quickly run to the shady corner of my cell and count the tally marks--it hasn't been a month yet.

"Lizette?" the man calls out.

I look at him from the shadows with a piece of white chalk in hand.

That's all they gave us, of course--a piece of chalk and a stone wall. Why did they keep madmen here only to make them madder?

"Lizette," he repeats.

Is it because they have no hope for us?

"Let's go," I hear--a strange yet familiar voice, the voice of a girl, around my age.

"Suzette, we haven't even tried reaching out to her. I swear, she's much more controllable now," the man says.

"Well, she isn't responding. You can tell the warden to kill her off--today. He doesn't have to do it publicly; he can't just do it in her cell while she's sleeping."

"Suzette, she is right there!" the man argues.

"She's unresponsive," this Suzette replies.

Suzette. Suzette. Suzette. I force my lips to move and form her name several times until it becomes familiarized with it.

I go up to the bars and mouth her name again.

"What is she saying? Is she mute?" Suzette wonders.

I look at her dress--oh, what a beautiful dress! Gold touches and glitter everywhere, but not so much to overpower the deep red.

I shake my head.

"I don't remember how to talk," I mouth.

Her eyebrows knit together.

"Alec, tell me what this... filth is saying."

Alec--that's right. ALEC! That's his name!

I find myself smiling while Alec explains that I've only been able to mouth words.

I grab onto the cold bars, and Suzette flinches. I take a closer look at her. She seems familiar, like... like...

A mirror.