The Asylum; Dream.

The Asylum; Dream.

The room was quiet.

Not peaceful—quiet.

Empty of free souls, filled instead with human beings trapped inside their own minds.

The classroom had no character, no warmth.

Tall windows barred from the outside.

Walls painted a white so stark it seemed unnatural.

Even the air tasted sterile, like forgotten dreams.

The girl sat motionless at her desk, eyes fixed forward.

The teacher in white sauntered down the rows, studying each patient with unsettling precision—every itch, every sniff, every blink.

The girl’s irritation grew under that scrutiny.

And then, as though sensing the defiance brewing inside her, the woman turned. Their eyes locked.

That was a mistake.

A slow smile spread across the teacher’s face, savoring the rule broken.

To her, punishing the girl would be the highlight of the day.

But before the woman reached her desk, the girl stood.

Instantly, the entire class followed, rising in unison.

The woman tensed, tried to reclaim control with a rigid stance. But the balance had already shifted.

The girl had made her move.

With a thought, she lifted the room.

Every patient rose into the air, feet dangling, bodies upright and rigid.

The teacher’s eyes widened—control slipping from her grasp.

The girl smiled, cold and joyless.

She raised her hand, and the bodies began to dance.

With graceful sweeps of her arms she conducted them, partners forming, a grotesque ballroom unfolding in midair.

The teacher floated towards the girl until they were face to face.

She did not move, but her stiff posture betrayed fear.

Her eyes still clung to authority, and that only stoked the girl’s irritation.

One by one, she began to drop them.

First the killers.

Then the bullies.

Each body hit the concrete with a sickening crack.

Splat. Crunch. Thud.

Terror bloomed in the woman’s gaze. That was when the girl knew: she had total control.

But also, she had reached her limit.

Slowly, she guided her friends toward the now—open window, the bars bent just wide enough for escape. She lowered them carefully, their feet touching the ground of freedom. Amused laughter spilled out as they slipped into the city.

The girl stayed behind.

She had to.

If she fled, they’d all be caught.

She knew where this was leading—the chair, the helmet, the mind numbing pain that burned the edges of thought. Darkness.

White coats poured into the room.

She lowered herself and the teacher gently, silently asking for grace by allowing the teacher to live.

The last thing she saw was the doctor’s wide, astonished eyes.

Then a bag dropped over her head, straps tightening, the confinement of the straitjacket sealing her fate.

* * *

Her feet dragged along the floor. She was dead weight for the men who carried her—to who knows where.

The jacket was tight across her chest, laboring her breathing.

She fought laughter.

Though her future was unknown, the joy in her heart was for her friends who had escaped this prison.

Unable to hold her tongue, she blurted, “Did anyone else see that?”

Laughter tumbled through her.

The two men carrying her turned their heads simultaneously.

She might not have been able to see their expressions, but she knew they were horrified.

She had just killed twelve inmates with only the lift of a finger.

She felt no guilt.

Those who had fallen deserved it.

For only a moment, she was able to play God.

For only a moment, she had the upper hand.

For the first time in her life she felt in control.

Moments later she was lying on a hard table.

Not allowing her mind to drift, she let the cold metal to distract her from her knowing doom.

This was it, she thought.

A needle pricked her skin; cold fluid filled her veins.

Though she no longer had a bag over her head, she could not see.

She could not feel anything on her skin—panic swept through her.

Before she drifted, she heard a voice.

A familiar voice that sent chills through her mind, for her body was no longer her own.

“Allow yourself to forget,” The voice said—soothing and cold.

A memory flashed through her thoughts—her and her friends laughing, sitting comfortably under a tree. Reading and sharing wild stories.

The warmth of their friendship lit her from within. She recalled pain, and overwhelming sadness as the memory faded.

There was pressure on her forehead.

Her body suddenly jolted.

Though she felt no pain, fear encased her.

Fluid escaped her eyes.

She was crying—though she couldn’t quite tell how she knew.

One last time she attempted to lift her hand.

One last time she sought out control.

Nothing responded.

Everything went silent.

Her body. Her thoughts. Her soul.

A breeze pressed against her.

A touch so light, but real.

“Who’s there?” She asked the darkness.

Nothing answered.

She was alone.

The darkness consumed her, creeping in like smoke.

Taking everything that made her.

She reached out into the void, looking for something to grasp—something real, something that might define her, give her something to believe in.

For a moment, she thought she heard laughter—soft, distant, and familiar.

The darkness seemed to pulse, whispering now, pulling her deeper into nothingness.

Nothing is what she became.

* * *

She couldn’t recall the start of the morning.

Only that in this moment she sat stick-straight in a desk.

Her veins were icy, and her hands stiff.

She couldn’t remember entering the room—only the feeling that she had done this before.

She opened her eyes; she was in a classroom.

Her pulse fluttered against the silence.

Knowing she shouldn’t, she slowly glanced around the room, a flicker of warmth coming and going when she saw her friends.

The room was quiet.

Not peaceful—quiet.

Empty of free souls, filled instead with human beings trapped inside their own minds.

The classroom had no character, no warmth.

Tall windows barred from the outside.

Walls painted a white so stark it seemed unnatural.

The girl sat motionless at her desk, eyes fixed forward.

* * *

FIN

L.H.