VIN
This isn't right? Where are the mirrors? Where am I, more importantly? Oh no, not here? What is happening, I shouldn't be here, please not here again? It's the orphanage. The one place I hate. Emptiness fills the air. Where are all the other kids? I'm the only one here, no wait who's that? A woman in grey steps out of the shadows, it's the headmistress, but there's someone else behind her. Ms Carson stands next to Mrs Woodcock, the headmistress of the orphanage. I swivel around to take in my surroundings. It's the dull classroom at the back of the building except without a door or windows. I turn back to the two teachers and their mean expressions. Suddenly I'm thrown into a seat and it starts to morph around me. Straps lace my wrists and ankles to the chair. A table emerges in front of me as well.
"What's going on let me go!" I shout
"You will stay here, all on your own forever." Mrs Woodcock says bluntly
"You can't do this."
"Talking back to a teacher and abusing her. You deserve a punishment, write I will not talk back to a teacher and abuse her fifty million times. When you have finished you may go outside with the other kids." Ms Carson yells
I pick up a pen and paper that she slaps onto the desk, but with my wrists bound it's very hard to keep hold of the pen. I try to scribble the sentence. Ms Carson comes over and rips it up.
"That's not neat, again, but this time you will also write after the first sentence, I am unwanted, ugly and a fool."
"Why?"
"Because Vin, that's what you are. No one wants to hang around you, your unwanted, an orphan. You don't have any friends. You need to prove to others that you're cool by showing off, but deep down you're nothing!" Mrs Woodcock shouts in my ear
"That's not true, I have friends." I whisper
"Friends who aren't here to help you? They think you're a fool a stupid fool." She snaps
"Write! You will stay here forever and never see anyone ever again unless you finish." Ms Carson bellows
I do as I'm told with tears running down my face. I don't want to be alone. I hate being by myself. I still have these two in here with me, even if they are wicked and cruel. They walk to the wall and a door appears and then disappears as they leave. The lights goes out and the darkness engulfs me. Now I am alone. A voice from somewhere I can't see echoes around the room.
"Continue to write, although we understand this might be hard considering you're in the dark so here's a bit of light, enjoy." The voice cackles
A light goes on in front of me illuminating a mirror with my reflection in it. That's not me! It's not real, I don't look like that. I have friends. It's Macbeth its Macbeth. I look hideous! In the mirror is a boy with only half of his hair on one side, which is tussled. His eyes are watery, red and puffy. Pimples cover his face and a huge rash on both his arms and legs. His legs are also way too hairy and he's standing alone. Kids in the background are laughing at him and every time he tries to speak his speech is really slurred. The boy is me…but I'm not outside. Even so I can't take me eyes off the image. I try to concentrate on write my lines, but my eyes wonder back to the mirror image and every time it gets worse and worse. I'm alone, trapped and haunted by a new and horrific me.
ZERO
I know something isn't right the moment I figure out where I am. It's all too familiar and it's a bad familiarity. I'm inside my house. I thought I would never see this place again. Now I'm back in it the one place I tried to run from and I'm back. How am I back here, I was in Pinkerton only seconds before? Macbeth, there's no other explanation. I have to get out now, before…I spin on my heels and panic fills me. Where's the damn door? I'm in the hall it should be here? I race through the house to the back. The back door is gone too. I stare at the walls, no windows, obviously I'm meant to stay here. There has to be a way out, has to be. I run up the stairs taking them two at a time.
It's exactly how I remember it, a prison only now it actually is one. I stop at the top of the stairs the white carpet still has stains on it, the same with the walls and some also with long cracks snaking down them. I walk to the very end of the corridor and rest my hand on the doorhandle to the left. I slowly turn it and open it. White walls, single metal bed, grey sheets, no duvet, a small wooden chest of draws and a desk and chair with one leg shorter than the rest. The only difference was there was no window. There seemed to be doors inside but none that lead to outside. Now I didn't feel that I'm a prisoner, this time I am a prisoner. No more climbing out of windows.
I here the fly screen slam from down stairs. How could that be? There wasn't any front door before? That question though is only there for the briefest of moments as pure terror surges through me. He's here, oh my god, he's here. I'm going to die. What should I do? Where are my friends when I need them? I have to get out, now! I go to where the window used to be and start punching the wall. Maybe if I break the wall I can escape.
The sound of heavy footsteps reaches me from below. A bottle smashes on the floor, then another. A hysterical laugh bellows up the stairs and then the footsteps start to ascend the stairs. No please no, not again, I'm not going through this again. I run out of my room and into the bathroom. I thought I could climb through the skylight, but it's not there. Oh well, at least I can arm myself. I search in the cupboards and pull out a pair of scissors and a razor. In my frantic haste I knock a bottle over. It smashes to the ground, causing shards of glass to scatter everywhere and making the loudest sound ever. Tears are now cascading down my pale face
"I can hear you. Come out you little brat we have some catching up to do!" He screeches from half way up the stairs.
I chuck away the scissors and grab a piece of glass. Much better. I go into a fighting stance, but my eyes wonder to the glass. I stare into it and touch it with one of my fingers. The world goes black. The last thing I see is the massive frame of a giant emerging at the top of the stairs ready to kill.