#32 - How did I get here and where do I go? There's a crack in the glass, and I'm not going home.
A small child runs into what appears to be the living room. She has a head of flaxen tresses, pulled up neatly in a pony-tail. She wears a large grin on her face, her cherry lips smooth and rose-like. She's lanky for a child, but naturally so. Her face glows with an ethereal aura. She sits down on the couch, and glances out the window. Her eyes behold the world with wonder, excitement, and contentment. She doesn't seem to notice you in the room until a few minutes later after a car drives by the window. She turns to you, the hint of a smile still on her lips. She rises from the couch, and begins walking toward you and--
Lisa shot up in bed, a gasp accompanying her actions. Her hand went to her forehead, beaded with perspiration. She glanced around the room, and her eyes landed on the window. It was covered with a metal grate to prevent anyone from getting out. The walls were bare, and white. It kept everyone calm; that's what they said, at least. She swung her legs over the side of her bed, rubbing her face with both hands. Letting out a sigh, she planted her feet on the cold tile, and walked to the door. Opening it slightly, she peered out into the hallway. She closed the door again, and walked back to bed. She sat atop the rustled sheets, hugging her knees to her chest.
"How did I get here?" she mumbled aloud, rocking back and forth. She clenched her jaw. "How the fuck did I get here?" She glanced out the window again. All she saw were treetops with splatters of a midnight sky in between the leaves. There was no moon out that night. "When you've reached your end, where do you go? Do you fucking drop off the earth like those bastards back when Columbus was alive believed? Or do you keep going, praying and hoping someone, something will keep you from falling?" She was talking to herself in the solitude of her room, the moonlight giving her a derranged angelic glow.
"When death is the only logical step forward, how do you go back? How do you keep on living? How do you fucking survive?"
Lisa shot up in bed, a gasp accompanying her actions. Her hand went to her forehead, beaded with perspiration. She glanced around the room, and her eyes landed on the window. It was covered with a metal grate to prevent anyone from getting out. The walls were bare, and white. It kept everyone calm; that's what they said, at least. She swung her legs over the side of her bed, rubbing her face with both hands. Letting out a sigh, she planted her feet on the cold tile, and walked to the door. Opening it slightly, she peered out into the hallway. She closed the door again, and walked back to bed. She sat atop the rustled sheets, hugging her knees to her chest.
"How did I get here?" she mumbled aloud, rocking back and forth. She clenched her jaw. "How the fuck did I get here?" She glanced out the window again. All she saw were treetops with splatters of a midnight sky in between the leaves. There was no moon out that night. "When you've reached your end, where do you go? Do you fucking drop off the earth like those bastards back when Columbus was alive believed? Or do you keep going, praying and hoping someone, something will keep you from falling?" She was talking to herself in the solitude of her room, the moonlight giving her a derranged angelic glow.
"When death is the only logical step forward, how do you go back? How do you keep on living? How do you fucking survive?"