"Rosemary, if art is the pentacle of your pain then why do you continue to torture yourself with that sketchbook? Your past is anything but golden so is destroying all remains of it not the best solution of moving on?", I thought for a moment, looking deep into the corner of the office as if I would find my answer within the large dust bunny. Anti social, poor, depressing, mentally ill, and an unfortunate case were the labels that shaped my childhood.

I remembered receiving a gift from my aunt Clara who was an amazing artist, with a desire to be like her she gave me a sketchbook and a pack of coloured pencils as a Christmas gift. "Rosemary, you don't want to be like me.", I use to fight against this absurd statement, which she would say quite a bit, but I didn't know what she truly was, not until my seventeenth birthday came around, I was forced to end Aunt Clara's life. "Not very social today? Are you at least adjusting to your medication well?", I nodded to Hayabasa Bunko covering my mouth after a large yawn decided to intrude. She wrote something down on her clipboard then looked to the clock refusing to lose the plain Jane expression that would make me so uncomfortable. "We aren't making as much progress as we did when you first started coming to me, unfortunately time is up so I hope next week is different?", I shrugged pushing myself up from my chair.

"Wallace, I do hope you know that I worry about you. If you're speaking the truth then I'm glad you're recovering at your own pace, but if not we could always find in hospital patient stay for further examination.", Hayabasa was speaking of a mental hospital under glorified tongues, I fought back the laugh threatening to escape my mouth. Instead, I slipped my arms into the sleeves of my baby pink coat and quickly bowed to her. "I thank you for your concern but I really am working to better myself, and am actually succeeding in my efforts.", Her smile faded as if she could see through my facade, as if she could tell that every attempt of reassurance I made was far from fool proof.

Depression, Anxiety, Bi-Polar disorder, Sleep paralysis, PTSD, and Paranoia Schizophrenia, in societal views I was an obvious lost cause but society didn't know about the issues I would constantly butt heads with. These issues came after Aunt Clara's death, I felt miserable, held prisoner by my own bed, ruthless hallucinations, and the feeling of constantly being watched, small things such as the screams of nearby children at play triggered the screams of my aunt begging me to kill her. To put her out of her misery using her own husbands remains.

As I pressed the crosswalk button a familiar song that reminded me of my grandfather rung loud, the Facts of Life theme song which he hated with all of his heart because I would play it on repeat just to annoy him. He even stopped shopping at the local Walgreens for a few months just because thetrack played once inside of the store, pulling my cellphone from my white purse I silenced the source of the nostalgic song by answering it;

"Hello?", I started off the conversation while walking across the street at a quick pace.

"Hey babe, I was calling to ask if you wanted to go out tonight? You rock at karaoke and the guys like having you around.", Ayoma Gengyo, he was my only friend growing up so it made sense that we would be house mates in college.

"Sorry Gengyo, I have an essay due tomorrow but maybe another time?", I heard a sigh of disappointment come from his end, it broke my heart. But I was in Tokyo to start a new, so my studies were always going to be my top priority.

"Awe man..just keep the door locked until I'm home. I heard there was a ghoul spotted in our area so be alert.", My cheeks burned, it flattered me to know that he cared so much.

"Thanks for your concern, you should hurry up and finish your photography project!"

"Good bye babe."

Ending the call I hurried down the steps of the subway station to jump into the cart that was just about to leave. My blonde ringlets bounced about, my ankle high pink boots made loud clacking noises against the smooth concrete floor, and the plush key chains on my purse could not stay still, as if they were hyperactive seven year olds.

No one in my university would suspect me of having such a horrible past, to them I was intelligent, cute, kind, and loved by many, the definition of perfection. "Sorry.", I said after accidentally bumping into someone wearing a hood and cold mask. They were no taller than me and remained still, I began questioning myself whether or not he was a cardboard cutout of someone because of how lifeless he appeared, "Rosemary!", I heard a high pitched voice shout my name, grabbing the pole that the hooded boy was also clinging to I attempted to lean on the tip of my toes. A head full of orange hair pushed through the sea of people that threatened to knock the person down without even having to say a word, "Hey Jennifer!", Jennifer Coyle was a transfer student from Switzerland, unfortunately we were not in the same departments so seeing one another on campus was a rare occurrence. "I couldn't reach you on your cellphone since I left mine at my dorm..again..but I was meaning to ask if we could go out tomorrow?", She asked placing her hand on the pole as well but with a tissue between them to keep from the spreading of germs.

"I should be able to, where do you want to go?", Smiling wide showing the gap between her two front teeth Jennifer held a flyer to me. "Christmas concert?", The paper was covered with poorly drawn trees and gifts, was it made by a kindergartner? "I know you're not going home to America so why don't you try spending it with your new friends?", Her endearing personality warmed my heart to it's core but I didn't like celebrating holidays, without my aunt..every flashing light strung up against a surface only looked gray to me. It's been like this for almost three years now, I missed seeing the color that everyone would gush over 24/7. But if I continued to find excuses my friends would gradually grow to be suspicious of me, 'Why does she avoid events?' 'It's her birthday, she's so depressing.' 'I don't think she is who she says she is.', I couldn't let my life return to the way it was before.

"I would love to go!", Taking the flyer from her small hands I folded it tucking it into the pocket of my purse. Jennifer had a look of satisfaction, like she just convinced the Grinch who stole Christmas to return the items he swiped. I wasn't a Grinch, was I? "After the concert we'll go out to eat, dress in traditional colors. Got it?", Jennifer reminded me of my mom for some reason. She always wanted to match everyone with the event, to get us out of the house as much as possible, and to make sure we all knew how much we were loved. "See ya' tomorrow then!", Stepping out of the now open subway cart doors my friend and I parted ways.

Looking over my shoulder I saw him, the hooded person from before, staring dead at me.