"The poor dear is fragile."
Fragile? Is that her name? It must be because they say it so often. But no. That doesn't feel quite right.
Her name... Her name... She can almost remember it. Flickers of a night so terrible sometimes dance across her broken mind.
"Alice!" the man they also call fragile (It must be a common name. How curious.) had cried.
And she almost remembers screaming. They had hurt her. They had wanted something. Who? She can't remember.
Her baby... She'd had a baby boy once. The sweetest little angel. Wasn't he? Did they take her baby, her little maybe angel?
She's frantic now as she roams the ward. Did they? Who were they? Her small fists slam into the wall. Why can't she remember what she's lost?
The woman turns, ready to tear the place apart in search of answers, but she bumps into a boy. He has a round face and kind eyes, and he almost looks just like Fragile (the man, Fragile, that is.)
"Hello. I'm Fragile," she says, smiling at the boy. "Are you Fragile, too?"