authored by Levi Marie
The rain beat a steady rhythm on the single, small window which cast an eerie glow into the dreary room. A flash of lightning streaked through the sky and momentarily lit the cramped quarters, the shadow of bars spreading out across the bare floor. This room was not a prison, as some had thought. The conditions were simply not right. The walls were painted a dull ivory, though no pictures or posters could be seen, and a plain oak desk sat in one corner. This desk had once been littered with the products of an imaginative mind. Drawings and paintings of make-believe worlds. Books that spoke of fantastic things not suitable for reality. And a smiling hand-made doll that had once been the only friend of an unremarkable person.
The desk was now empty, it's contents carefully packed away and forgotten.
On the other side of the room, placed just under the window, a nice sized bed stood. It easily dominated the tiny room, taking up most of the wall against which it rested and stretching out into the middle of the floor. Laying flat on top, tucked beneath the billowing white sheets, was the owner of this particular room. It was a girl named Vada. Too young to be an adult, too old to be a child. Her skin was pale, albeit not sickly so, and her long black hair splayed across the down-filled pillow. Eyes the colour of new emeralds stared up at the cracked ceiling, devoid of expression and seeing nothing but darkness. But Vada was not alone in her room. Another girl, considerably younger by all appearances, sat silently at the edge of the bed. She gazed almost longingly at her sister, secretly hoping, praying, for her to speak.
But Vada said nothing. Moved not an inch. Her sister heaved a great sigh.
It had happened well over a year ago. Vada had been struck by a car when her sister had ventured too far into the street. She had been hospitalized for several weeks and then sent home. Doctors said that she was fine. Her statistics were normal. No physical damage done. But Vada hadn't spoken since then. When she moved, she seemed to glide, more like a ghost than anything. She never blinked. Never closed her eyes. Her parents assumed it was some sort of mental trauma and had placed bars on Vada's window in case she happened to pitch a fit. Her sister used the phrase "caught in that place between sleep and awake," and scoffed at the idea that her sister may throw herself out of a window. If Vada had any opinions of her own, she spoke nothing of them.
The younger girl felt the sting of tears and brushed them angrily away. It was because of her that her sister was like this. If only she hadn't been playing in the street.. She bit down hard on her lower lip to stifle the scream that begged to burst fourth. It was best, she knew, to escape this room before she lost it completely. Before she did, however, she reached to her side and produced the doll that had, at one point, sat proudly on the desk in the corner. The doll was of a boy dressed all in green with bright orange hair, a cocky smile set forever on stitched lips. Vada had created the doll herself, fashioning it after her favourite fairy tale. Her parents had never understood her love for the story, and made quick work of stowing away all evidence of it after the accident. Her sister had rescued the doll from the box, and sat it beside Vada now in hopes that it may bring her around from her stupor. Blinking at the tears that now fell freely from sapphire eyes, her sister turned and fled the room.
As another bolt of lightning split the sky, slender fingers grasped gently at the doll's arm. Eyes never straying from the ceiling, Vada pulled the doll up and held it close, tucked lovingly under her arm.