ALiCE
-1-
Her name is ALiCE. That's no error, I assure you; just the odd way that she chooses to
identify herself. I once gave her a sheet of paper, in the hopes that she would perhaps
write what it is that she can still not bring herself to say, but to no avail. All she wrote on
the paper was this: "ALiCE." I assume it was her name, in another life, before she came
here, and before she became whatever the Hell it is that she now pretends to be. I say
pretend because, despite the presumptions of the rest of the staff, I firmly believe that
there is a young and capable mind beneath ALiCE's mute exterior, just waiting for the
day when she can jump out again.
She's punishing someone. Not herself, I suppose. After seeing what she can do to
various objects "unintentionally" left lying around her room, I have no doubt in my mind
that if she wanted herself dead she would be so by now. My simplest guess is that
someone, somewhere hurt this child, and she is now here, locked inside her room and
herself, hoping that every second she spends in solitude is tearing some one apart outside
these stone walls. Of course, this, along with a thousand other uneducated hypotheses have
yet to be proven.
ALiCE is her name, yet she never responds to it. She doesn't respond to anything. Day
by day, ALiCE sits in her room, watching the world fly by outside the bars that cover her
window, and she never says a word, or even move to show that anything else is capable of
moving her. She's been this way for as long as I can remember, possibly for as long as
she has been here, and I can foresee no drastic change in the near future. That is, unless
something amazing and extraordinary happens to come along and pull her out of the shell
that she calls her home.
One day, someday soon, ALiCE will come home to us.
Someday, I will get to meet my daughter.
***
-1-
Her name is ALiCE. That's no error, I assure you; just the odd way that she chooses to
identify herself. I once gave her a sheet of paper, in the hopes that she would perhaps
write what it is that she can still not bring herself to say, but to no avail. All she wrote on
the paper was this: "ALiCE." I assume it was her name, in another life, before she came
here, and before she became whatever the Hell it is that she now pretends to be. I say
pretend because, despite the presumptions of the rest of the staff, I firmly believe that
there is a young and capable mind beneath ALiCE's mute exterior, just waiting for the
day when she can jump out again.
She's punishing someone. Not herself, I suppose. After seeing what she can do to
various objects "unintentionally" left lying around her room, I have no doubt in my mind
that if she wanted herself dead she would be so by now. My simplest guess is that
someone, somewhere hurt this child, and she is now here, locked inside her room and
herself, hoping that every second she spends in solitude is tearing some one apart outside
these stone walls. Of course, this, along with a thousand other uneducated hypotheses have
yet to be proven.
ALiCE is her name, yet she never responds to it. She doesn't respond to anything. Day
by day, ALiCE sits in her room, watching the world fly by outside the bars that cover her
window, and she never says a word, or even move to show that anything else is capable of
moving her. She's been this way for as long as I can remember, possibly for as long as
she has been here, and I can foresee no drastic change in the near future. That is, unless
something amazing and extraordinary happens to come along and pull her out of the shell
that she calls her home.
One day, someday soon, ALiCE will come home to us.
Someday, I will get to meet my daughter.
***