NAMELESS

DAY THREE

I am awake. Today is the day I walk again. No more chair. I will walk to the man with the brown eyes and lean against the wall with him. Or maybe I will walk the other way. Because I can.

I sit up. My head is pounding, but I grit my teeth. I will fight through the pain. Nothing will stop me this time.

I stand. The ground spins and the dark clouds roll, but I will stand firm. I wait for the worst of it to pass, then I take my first step. Pain shoots through my stiff muscles. Nothing will stop me.

I look at the woman in the mirror. She is determined.

My door opens. The first woman is early. She looks at me, aghast.

"You poor dear! You're as pale as a ghost!" She exclaims. "Don't worry. I'll get you your chair."

I don't want my stupid chair. I take a step towards her. The black clouds roll in again. My chests aches. It's hard to breathe.

She is back with the chair. I stand a moment longer before relenting.

"There now." She smiles, "isn't that better?"

I hate this woman. I smile back politely. She leaves.

I urge my chair forward. I pause at my doorway. I don't want to go to the white room today. I don't want to see him. I don't want him to see how I failed.

I turn left. This way has to be better than the other way. I follow the hall way until I get to a door. The door tells me that this room is the doctors office.

The door opens. I recoil. I don't want to be here.

"There you are." The man I presume to be the doctor smiles. "Come in, I've been waiting for you."

I back away. I don't want to go in.

"Don't worry, dear." He assures me, "you're quite safe."

I guess it can't hurt. It has to be more interesting than colouring tables.

The doctor enters the room. I follow.

"So." He begins, taking a seat behind a white desk. "You're here because you are lost."

What does he mean? I open my mouth to speak. Nothing.

"Don't you worry about that. I can tell you all you need to know."

I frown. I don't like this.

"Now, I just want to explain something to you." He says, face full of concern. "You may have heard us call you a patient. Let me clarify. You are not sick. You are not here because you are sick. You are lost. You are here to find yourself again. 'Patient' is simply what we call the" he pauses, "people we work with here."

I squirm in my chair. I don't want to be here.

"So." His hands clap together to meet the point of his nose. "Over the next few sessions I am going to help you understand who you are. That's probably enough to think about for today, so how about we leave it there and you can come back again when you're ready."

I frown. What is this man talking about? I only just got here!

The door opens behind me. I shrug. I don't want to be here anyway. Maybe I'll just go back to my room. I back my chair out, turn right and push forward until I make it back to my room. I sit in front of the mirror.

Who am I? I am weak. I am scared. I am lost. And I am trapped.

A knock at my door. The man in white, the first man, enters. He is carrying a framed picture. What is it?

"I heard you had a good session today." The first man says. "So here is your reward."

He hangs the picture up. It is a portrait of a naked man. What? I don't want this! Why is this being hung in my room? The first man leaves me alone with my reward.

I look at the portrait. The man has cold, blue eyes and dark blonde hair. His face is very defined and angular. He has bulky shoulders and well-defined muscles. I look away. I don't like him. He makes me uncomfortable. I want him out of my room.

I look back at the mirror. I don't want to look at the man in the picture. I wonder if the woman in the mirror knows my secrets. What a silly thought. Maybe I really am mad.

The doctor said I am not sick. I'm just lost. What is that supposed to mean? Where am I?

I wonder if there are any other rooms in this place. I haven't seen any. But there must be. Where do all the other people sleep? Where does the man with the brown eyes sleep? I glance at the man in the picture, he looks nothing like the man with the brown eyes. I wonder if he'll care that I have a naked man in my room. Probably not. He didn't care enough to walk across the room to me. He doesn't care about me. But why does he keep watching me.

I glance back at the man in the picture. I feel very uneasy.