Short stories [warning: mostly the sad ones]

-Alone-

Everything around her was snowy white, from the padded walls,floor and ceiling, to the iron prison door, to the single white chair, and lonely white projector as well as the only electrical device in sight-a board. Yet she wasn't stupid-she knew there were camera's. There always were. Yet something was off. She had been put in the padded room many times, yet always the door was too padded and there was nothing in the room. She also didn't have her straight jacket on, another mistake on their part. Instead, she sported a white top with long sleeves, white cotton bottoms, simple white shoes and even a white bra-the contrast of her usual favorite black one. Her skin too was a very pale white, she seemed like a porcelain doll, almost about to break. Perhaps the only thing not white was her long, curly caramel hair, and her misty grey-green eyes that never paid attention to what the adults were saying. Yet the most peculiar thing about this scene wasn't the fact that she was for once obedient, or the fact she was used to this setting. It was her wrists, pale too they they were, yet paler than every other part of her skin. They showed a pattern, a piece of art, each line that merged with the next had its own story, each scar shed its own tear.

So this girl sat there, all too aware of the cameras around her, waiting for something to happen. She imagined a pure clock, ticking and tocking its way through time, as if it floated in the waves of seconds, hours and minutes. At least that's the way she thought of it. So she sat there quietly, and soon enough the screen flashed on.

"Tell me, who is this girl?" 

"I..I don't know. I think she was in my class. Talked too much, and when she was silent..she was just..weird."

Flash.

"Tell me who is this girl?"

"Oh her-ha! Thought we were friends, she did! She was terrible-greedy and all. Seriously, so gullible and so easy to manipulate!"

Flash.

"Tell me, who is this girl?"

"The biggest bitch ever. Thought she owned the world-guess what loser? YOU DON'T."

Flash.

And there she was. The cherry on top. Her best friend...

"Tell me, who is this girl?"

Pause. A simple click of her tongue.

"I tricked her. I lied to her. I manipulated her into thinking she was worth me and my time. She broke so many friendships when she didn't even have any friends! I just-I feel pity that she would be so stupid as to believe I ever liked her."

Flash. In less than a second, it was all gone. Screen went black and there she sat. This odd girl, who felt dead inside, who had wanted to be dead on the outside multiple times, now wished it more than ever. Yet on the other side of the cameras, a curt lady stood, watching, waiting, clipboard in hand. She thought she caught hat seemed like a gaze of hurt-perhaps nothing more than a flash, before the girls eyes went to being numb. In fact, her entire body went numb. When she was finished with the video, her arms fell beside her lap, and her head fell forward for just a second before returning back to its original position. However, her eyes now had this misty glaze over them, like she had stopped focusing on the matter at hand, and simply accepted what had been thrown at her.

The curt lady pursed her lips, and her glasses flashed in annoyance at the lack of results. The girl still sat there, stiff, not a single tear won over her cheeks. The lady spoke into the radio, saying the girl was to be put back in Experiment A. With that, she simply walked away, her heels clicking angrily as she pushed her way down the hall towards the lab. Another day wasted on that pathetic girl, emotionless indeed. And for the girl, another day in pain tests, and mental tests, another day without food, her therapist screaming at the curt lady to stop the experiments.

Yet what the girl didn't know was that what her unfocused grey-green eyes were seeing, it wasn't real. It was in her head-it was acting. Her friends too were here, her friends too were in pain. They would all suffer together, oblivious of each other's pain.