Okay, I asked for 15 reviews and I got only 12, but it's been over a month, so I'm updating. I didn't think you guys would mind. Feedback is greatly appreciated, as always (:

"Don't we need to contact the child's parents?"

"There's no need. She's been turned over to the state. What we decide goes, there's no one to protest."

"You sure that this is going to work?"

"No." he laughed, "But that's why we're using her to test it out on."

"Why's she in the nut house?"

"Claims that she can see the future. Keeps mumbling about this guy with golden hair and people with blood-red eyes. You have to admit, it breaks your heart a little every time her eyes glaze over and she loses contact with the world."

"It is sad. Have you tried anything else to prevent these so-called visions?"

"Electro-shock therapy was the first solution."

"How did you proceed?"

"We kept her in a room with one of the nurses. Each time her eyes would glaze over, we sent a pulse of shocks through her body. We had thought that maybe she would notice the constant chain of events and would try to block her visions with the hope of not getting hurt. But 6 months into this treatment, she remains as she had been when it started."

"Such a pity. Well, we've no time to lose, let's bring her inside the room."

They wheeled the young girl into the room they were using for operation, and began to buzz her hair.

When the scalp was completely bald, they did their best to put the girl under.

The okay to go was given, and the head doctor described what it was that he was about to do.

"We will make an incision straight across the patient's head. We will cut the connections to and from the prefrontal cortex. This is the anterior part of the frontal lobes. It will hopefully cease the trigger to the girl's visions."

"Why will this method, work, while others have failed?"

"The failed attempts, like the deep sleep therapy and cardiazol shock therapy, were things that we, ourselves, could control. Perhaps, she was smart enough to acknowledge that. So, in turn, the only way to stop the visions is to physically remove them."

"What are the risks we are about to take?"

"Death, of course, as with any surgery. Loss of motor skills. Permanent brain damage. Epileptic seizures. Severe quietness. Word deafness. Yes, major faults, but nothing we are not willing to risk. After all, she is quite ill, and we could be locking her up in a room with dim lighting instead of attempting to save her. We could fix her, or we could let her remain in a sickly state."

"If anyone disagrees with this course of treatment you are now free to leave."

The room remained silent, except for the shifting of feet in the anticipation.

The doctor held up the rusty knife and pressed it to the crème colored smooth scalp.

Place, down, in, deeper, further, continuing, straight into a line, that left a trail of deep, burgundy blood.

The cut was gone over again, the gash's depth almost doubling as it cut into the brain, blood squirting out.

"Sir?" a nurse spoke

"Yes?"

"You've made the cut, all that's left is to remove that portion of her brain."

"Okay, we're now removing Mary's brain."


"Mary, pick up this cup for me."

The girl in the dirty nightgown reached for the plastic cup, and it tumbled out of her once-sure hands.

"Alright, we'll work on that later." The caretaker sighed

The teenage girl had the mind of a developing toddler.

"Let's try writing again, okay?"

She nodded and clumsily gripped the charcoal with un-firm hands.

The caretaker drew first.

Mary

Mary leaned over and began to draw the M, but it was distorted and unaligned. It pained the caretaker to see this.

A child so vibrant, bright, and joyous, who now had nothing left.

He sighed in frustration again.

"How about we try speaking again, okay? You're getting better at that."

She nodded once more.

"Repeat after me. My name is Mary Alice."

"M-m-my n-na-name is M-M-Mar-Ma…"

She couldn't even pronounce her first name.

"How about, My name is Alice."

"M-my n-n-na-name i-is A-Al-Alice." She smiled

"It suits you." He grinned

She gave him a small smile back.

He picked her up and took her back to her cot.

"C-c-can I p-play w-with t-the b-bl-blocks?" she mumbled

He nodded, and placed the crate of letter blocks on the bed beside her.

She clumsily shuffled through the box and found several letters that she placed out strategically on the bed.

THANK YOU

She may not have been bright any longer, but she was pretty intelligent for someone who had been permanently damaged.

The caretaker was dying to change her. Dying to give her the ability to see what she pleased. People who loved her or visions or just plain life. He yearned to give her the possibility to be intelligent again. To be witty and quick as she once was.

He remembered the day she entered the asylum. Her long, black curly hair, that was now completely gone. Her upper-class, beautiful name, Mary Alice, that could no longer be pronounced. Her pretty dress that was tarnished and frayed, and had been replaced with a ratty nightgown. Her eyes once filled with wonder and hope and imagination, now as dead as her brain. No light in them at all.

This chapter was sooo hard for me to write. 10 reviews until next update (: