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Harry's POV

So far, today has been quite normal compared to other days. No prisoners (we're actually patients, but I personally don't see it that way) have tried to bite off any of our doctors fingers, none of us have wrecked havoc during our free time like usual, and there hasn't been any calls to our bitch of a warden, Mrs. Faed. She's the one whom usually administers the punishment around this hellhole. I think pain gives her some sort of fuel, no matter if she accidentally kills one of us or not.

I am currently sitting on one of the most tattered sofas in the building, desperately in need of some new upholstery. The dirty green color is dark against the white cotton that spills out. Most of the springs have broke and one side leans too close to the floor, yet this is my favorite spot in all of this damned asylum. This couch holds access to the only window in the entire room.

The window is the only thing that keeps me sane, letting me know that the rest of the world is still out there. Without this translucent glass, I might've killed myself within the first week of being admitted here. I never got a trial for my "crime" as it was too gruesome. I was automatically admitted here and have been inside this place for 2 1/2 years, and I'm not getting out anytime soon. I try to follow the strict guidelines placed upon us, but I end up messing up. Sometimes, I wonder if there even is a way out.

My eyes spot movement in the heavy snow that has fallen overnight. I watch the bright lights of a car get closer before they turn completely off. A girl that looks to be about my age gets out of the backseat. She must not be a prisoner or she would already have her black garments on, signaling to everyone here that she was one. One of our guards comes over and tries to help her stumble up the frozen stairs that lead to the entrance into this place. I silently send her messages, telling her to get out. To turn back before she is stuck here forever. Even from this couch, I can tell she is too beautiful to be stuck in such an awful place. Her brown hair is wavy and long, almost reaching her hips. She looks tall but is curvy too. She doesn't let the guard carry in her one bag, and when she laughs at something the guard says, you can see just how much her smile radiates happiness.

"054," I whip my head around and see one of our nurses behind me. "why don't you go with the others and greet the girl?"

We are mostly referred to with our numbers here. No one cares enough about us to take the time to learn our names, even though there's only 216 of us.

The nurse is still looking at me with a small smile on her lips that looks more creepy than happy, but that's nothing new here. Everyone smiles like that even after a few days here. I think its due to the immense force they have to use to contort their face into that position, as no one in here for more than 24 hours can genuinely be happy.

"Yes, of course." I say, getting up from my spot on the couch. I can feel the nurse watching me as I walk over to the open doorway. The guards in the hallways are already forming all the other black clad prisoners into single file lines against both of the stone walls on either side of the hallway. As I step outside I come face to face with Liam, my counselor. He's the only employee in this entire place who can remember my name. He is a rather pleasant guy for having to waste his life away here at the place he calls his job.

"Harry! How are you?" He asks me. His hand pats my back and guides me to a place on the wall beside him. I can barely hear my words over the rest of the people here.

"Terrible. Well, for a Monday at least." I say. Liam just laughs and shakes his head. I think he's used to my awful attitude. I actually used to be a rather happy guy, but that was over 2 years ago.

Out of nowhere, the sound of silence creeps up onto me and becomes unbearable. I turn my head in the opposite direction, where I see 4 guards. One leads the other three and one follows behind the others. In the middle there are two guards, and squished in between them is the girl.

I can't help but gape at her beauty. Her blue eyes shine, glisten even, as she looks around at the dull faces of the prisoners staring right back at her. She starts to slow down so she can look at each and every individual standing out here, but the guards push her forward. I step out of my line to go up to her, to push those guards away, and to guide her myself. Such a fragile looking girl shouldn't be pushed. As I start to walk up to the incoming guards, I feel a hand pull me back and words being softly shouted in my ear.

"Harry. Be smart. I don't think you want to be sent to the room again, do you?" Liam's words stop me dead in my tracks. If one thing could overshadow my anger and resentment towards this place, it would be my fear of going back there. I have never experienced a pain as horrid as that room held.

I steady my feet back into my line and watch the girl come right before me. I plead with her to look in my direction, and she does. She locks her eyes with mine and the Earth seems to stop spinning. I watch the corner of one side of her mouth curve up and I feel mine mirror her. She blinks and turns her head to the other side of the hallway. I look down, disappointed. She probably thinks I'm just another freak. That's what they all do anyway. I look up at her again and watch her walk into the warden's office. She turns around and locks eyes with me once more, then the metal door cuts us both off completely from each other.

"Oh, looks like that ribbon fell out of her hair." Liam says. He walks over to the middle of the hallway where the rest of the prisoners meet to talk about the scene before them. Liam soon returns with the ribbon in between his pointer and middle finger. He opens my hand and places it inside my grasp.

"Give it back to her the next time you see her. Ok, Harry?" Liam says. I nod and he pats my back once again before he slides his hands into his pockets and walks back in the direction of his office.

I study the ribbon and see its nothing special, just simple. It's white like the new fallen snow outside and is still tied into the perfect bow that it was before. I slip it into my shirt pocket, but spot something glisten on it. I look at the sparkles on the edge of the bow and see that its two letters.

"A.P." I whisper.

I can only wonder what those two letters stand for.

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