White

I walked briskly along the white halls. Holding a metal tray with chicken and carrots on it, I stepped up to our only currently occupied cell.

It had white walls and floor and ceiling, and a white bed. Nothing else was in the room except a girl.

She was sitting on the floor, knees to her chest, rocking back and forth, back and forth. She was wearing a white hospital dress, and her dark hair fell a little past her shoulders. Her back was to me.

White white white.

"Melantha, your food is here." She stopped rocking.

Melantha wasn't her real name. No one knew her real name. All she ever said was one sentence, over and over, in a different language, possibly even gibberish.

"Melantha, come and get your chicken." I slid the metal tray through a narrow hole in the wall, and looked through the glass.

She stood up slowly, her back still to me.

She turned her head over her shoulder, her eyes thin and menacing.

These people gave me the creeps.

Melantha turned fully around and slowly, oh so slowly, walked toward the glass.

She grabbed the tray without breaking eye contact with me. She turned and walked over to the white cot.

She looked down at the contents of her dinner at last, and left it on the bed.

As much as I feared them, I also felt sorry for them. They had the same food to eat every day. They never left their rooms.

Suddenly, Melantha looked up, directly at me. I was startled by the sudden eye contact. She stood up and walked over here, slowly at first but her pace growing faster with each step.

The angry look on her face was almost gleeful.

She stopped just in front of the window.

She raised her hand, as if to wave.

And suddenly slammed it against the window.

I reeled back in disgust. Slowly, she peeled her hand of the glass and curled her fingers into a fist.

Again, she slammed it against the window.

The glass cracked.

She slammed again.

The crack was growing across the window with each hit.

I backed up slowly.

She pulled her hand back one last time, far back, as if this hit would be the most important.

A cruel smile crept onto her lips, pulling back to reveal a million white teeth.

White white white.

She slammed the window one more time.

The glass shattered.

"Et mortuos erit eorum memoria." she said, and climbed over the window.

I screamed and ran, ran down the hall and through the lobby. At some point I looked over my shoulder, only to see her smiling gleefully and holding a knife.

"Et mortuos erit eorum memoria." She yelled repeatedly as we ran. I reached the out doors.

It was snowing.

White white white.

No one was on the street.

I turned, desperate.

"Melantha," I said nervously, "Put the knife down, please."

White white white.

Grinning, she shook her head.

I was unprepared for her to run, so fast she was a blur, at me.

Suddenly she was on top of me, knife raised.

"Et mortuos erit eorum memoria." She giggled morbidly. "And the dead shall be remembered!"

She brought the knife down.

White red white.