Tainted Rose
Toby glanced around at the four white walls surrounding her. Why does everything have to be white?, she thought. To her, those white, glaring walls were reminding her of every imperfection, every single thing that was not right or good in her. Those walls seemed to have eyes, staring at her, no, through her.
Why, she wondered again, why do the walls have to be white? White hides colors so you can't see what color they really are, or could be. Just like everyone else. They put up their own white walls like the ones glaring so relentlessly at Toby so you can't see what's really inside. Why did the walls have to be white?
"WHY?!" Toby yelled, realizing a moment later she had screamed it aloud.
The kind man who had been sitting across from her ever so patiently was violently startled, but regained his composure surprisingly quickly.
"Toby," he said gently, "you've been thinking somewhere else but not talking. Where have you been?" A pause here, but no response. "Why what?" he continued.
Should I answer him?, Toby pondered. I know what he's trying to do. He wants to delve deep, to have me let it out. Unfortunately, I can't do that, she decided. The place he wants to get is where all the hurt she so desperately and effectively shut away under lock and key. That key, she figured, was destroyed a long time ago.
So she simply answered, in her flat tone of indifference, "I wasn't anywhere. I was sitting here, in this mockery of a comfortable chair, surrounded by these four, white, glaring walls."
She sat back and set her jaw, allowing her eyes to glaze over. She then saw the tiny speck of hope fade from Dr. Jacob's eyes, replaced by something she did not expect. A silent, held-back, tear of defeat, quickly brushed away by a slightly trembling hand.
No matter how much he seems to care, she reminded herself, I can't let him in.