The girl clutched her head and screamed. Her teeth grated together as she slammed her arms down onto the thick metal table, convulsing. Sobs and whimpers of every sort shook her body, drawing every bit of breath from her lungs. And there was nothing I could do in that moment, except stare. Here was a girl with the softest brown eyes you'd ever see, the longest bright hair you'd ever touch, the most beautiful freckles you'd ever find. Here she was.
Broken in all the wrong places.
Shattered like a mirror.
She screamed once more, the sound echoing off the dense walls.
"Ana," I whispered softly. "Ana look at me." She did. She raised her head, and looked me right in the eyes. I opened my mouth to ask her why, ask her what, but she screamed again.
"You don't understand them! You can't hear the voices! They're in there, they're IN THERE!" Her voice dropped suddenly. "You can't hear them. You don't see them. I don't see them either. Can you feel them? No, no why should you feel them? They're not in your head. They're not in your head. Get them out. Get them out of my head. GET THEM OUT OF MY HEAD! GET OUT!" The gun fired. Her screaming ceased.
The things in her head were no more.