Yuki could remember everything.

The experiment.

The pain.

Her death.

Everyday, as she sits in this lonely, abandoned orphanage, Yuki remembers small little details. Details that make the already horrific memories even more terrifying. Not matter what she does to try to forget, to try and make the pain and sadness go away, it doesn't work. Even the happy memories make her weep.

Those happy memories make Yuki miss her old life even more. She can remember playing games with all the children, remember going to school and remember never feeling lonely, for she was surrounded by friends that cared about her.

But where were they now? Why couldn't Yuki join in with their games anymore? She could hear them singing and talking. Hear them having fun. Without her.

Yuki had had plenty of time to think about why she couldn't play with them. Maybe it was because she was the first victim of the experiments to die.

The experiments were something the nine year old would never forget. She remembered the day these strange doctors that spoke in a foreign language arrived at the orphanage. They watched her and the other children play together for a few days, then they seemed to disappear.

But after a week of not seeing the doctors, Yuki noticed something. Now children were disappearing. They'd go for a couple of days and then return, with a twisted grin on their face. They'd always want to play this strange new game.

Kagome Kagome.

Yuki didn't like that game. The children would make a circle around another child, then make grotesque faces. If the child in the middle of the circle flinched, they'd lose.

Winning the game was near impossible.

The faces they made were not faces humans should be able to make.

Yuki was nearly always picked to go in the middle, and always lost. Soon the children didn't want to play with Yuki and she wasn't allowed join in anymore.

Yuki began to wish that she would disappear like the other children so she could play with them again.

But you know what they say, "Be careful what you wish for."

One day one of the caretakers told Yuki they were bringing her to a special place for a test. Yuki followed them, somewhat curious about what this "test" was.

She was brought to the basement of the orphanage, a place that she had heard about but never seen.

The basement was cramped, trays with sharp tools on them were on one side of the room and three metal beds were on the other side.

Yuki was about to ask what the test was going to be on when she was grabbed by two doctors who pushed her onto the bed.

She tried to scream, but a hand covered her mouth.

Doctors held her down so she wasn't able to kick.

Yuki felt something sharp poke at the side of her face. It dug right into where her jaw bone stopped.

The hand that was covering her mouth was gone now and she screamed in pain. The sharp thing dug in even further and it seemed as though it was being hit with a hammer.

Yuki glanced to the side where the sharp thing was being pushed in.

A doctor was standing beside her, hammering a scalpel into her head.

She shrieked louder, trying to get them to stop because the pain was unbearable. Yuki saw the doctor draw the hammer back and ready themselves to hit the scalpel again. She tossed her head, despite the doctors yelling at her to stop moving.

The hammer hit the scalpel with great force, and Yuki could no longer see. She could no longer scream and the pain began to fade. She could feel the blood trickle down her neck and stain her clothes.

But soon enough, all feeling vanished. When Yuki woke up, she couldn't feel anything. She looked around, trying to call for help, but as she did so, she felt her jaw drop and Yuki was unable to say a single word or see anything. This new place she was in was very dark and it was freezing.

Yuki sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes and trying to hold up her jaw. As she felt it, Yuki realised a great deal of it was broken off. When she had sat up, her head hit off something metal. A metal lid.

Yuki pushed at the lid with all the strength that was left in her. Light quickly filled the small space she had been lying in. When she had pushed the lid up completely, Yuki saw the most horrifying sight she would ever see.

It was her body.

The jaw, completely destroyed, no longer attached to her face.

Her eyes were half closed.

The stench of blood was overwhelming.

Yuki stood up and tried her hardest to scream. The noise that came out was a quiet, gargling squeak.

The youth ran. She was dead. She had just seen her body.

Yuki was absolutely terrified. She didn't know what to do. If no one could see or hear her, who could help her?

She ran to the girls' dorm and lay on her bed, sobbing.

When it came time for bed at the orphanage, none of the children noticed Yuki. They girls got ready for bed like any other night and a caretaker stripped Yuki's bed and took her name card off of it.

The blankets went right through Yuki as the caretaker took them off.

She was a ghost. A ghost that would never be able to rest or leave this awful place.

Yuki remembers it all. As a ghost she was able to witness other children suffer the same fate she did. But instead of becoming ghosts like her, they all skipped off together, to a small room at the back of the orphanage.

Yuki knew they were still there. She had often heard people enter the building and talk about "finding ghosts". But not her ghost; the other children's ghosts.

They hurt them people. They made them suffer like they did. If Yuki was ever able to meet one of those curious people, she knew she would just try and ask for help, not hurt them.

But no people ever visit Yuki. She sits alone in her dorm, weeping and remembering. Remembering everything.