Can You Hear Me?

Please

Everyday I sit in my room. It is not a normal room, it is a white room. Not a clean white, a white that is worn down. A white that has been splattered with blood. A white room that criticizes you, tries to kill you. How do I know this? Everyday I hear them, the booming cynical voices. They torture the patients in the following rooms. Even now I here the blood curdling screams. Knowing soon I will be next I sit in the middle of the room shaking. Wondering, waiting, wanting to just die.

The men and woman in the white coats. They stab us with needles, feed us unknown foods that are very disgusting, and sometimes the men rape us. I have heard tales of the other female patients have gotten pregnant from the men. When the babies are brought to this place, the doctors take them to the basement and stab them too. At least that is what the man in the cell across from me said.

I have been through this event too. It hurts, after awhile your body adapts to it though. The cold feeling, the fear, not just for myself, but for the baby I might bare. I have never successfully produced a baby though. After just a month or two when I urinate in the corner of my room the baby falls out. Covered in blood, it is a pale blue, and it is a lost soul. I don't blame myself but, he does. The man who is my unwanted lover hits me. Leaving me with cuts that don't feel like mine. When this happens I just sit there silently crying. My eyes have gone dry, I can no longer feel. All I feel is penetration from the needles and this man.

He yells things like, "You are a whore!" Or, "it's all your fault!" I cannot be stabbed by these words, I keep my head hanging low as he hits me. I let out a grunt with every strike. Even when he pulls me by my scraggly black hair I go limp. Making it harder for him to hold me up. After his devilish rage he throws me to the ground. Storming out of the room and locking the cell door behind him.

"I am useless." The words fall out of my mouth. I place one of my pale cut up hands on my cheek. My hand is cold, it feels like a small sheet of ice is on it. My fingers run lightly across my face, feeling one of the previous scars that came from this man. "I love you, you are the only one who pays attention to me. You may not love me back, you hurt me, but I love you. I wish you could hear me." I let a small sadistic smile form on my face.

"Will you ever love me back?"