Silence. Palpable, eerie silence. Eyes fluttered, shuttered, open and close. Bright white walls, blinding, pressed, folded into themselves. No lines, no beginning, middle or end.

Seamless, endless, forever. Ceiling and floor melded together with the wall. Ad infinitum. Ad nauseum.

Stomach roiling, I shut my eyes. Too late, the climb up my esophagus had begun. Bile erupted, liquid flowed, spattered the white. Dabs of yellow and green adding depth to the room. Like an abstract painting.

Yellow and green make blue. No. Wait. My fuzzed out brain thought hard. Blue and yellow make green. So where's the blue? I seriously am so fucked up that I look for the blue. Where is it? Why isn't it in the splatters of the painting? If blue and yellow make green then--

Oh, God, I can't think. No blue. There's no blue. I'm wrong. That's it. I smacked my head with my fists. Wrong so wrong. A mistake. They'll punish me. I made a mistake.

I see the green. The yellow. No blue. There has to be blue. I don't hear the door open. Gray robes and masked bird people pick me up off the floor. Birds. I'm afraid of birds. Beaks, claws, feathers, flapping wings. Flying into my face, clawing my hair, pecking out my eyes. I struggle with the bird people. Fight them. No. Don't take me. Don't carry me away to the yellow and green sky. No blue! Where is the blue?

Birds, they jibber and jabber in their own bird languages. Like so many flocks of seagulls, magpies, crows. Frustrating. Speaking in their bird languages. Don't they know I'm human? I can't understand bird speech? Don't they know that? I can't hear them, not with my ears.

I'm floating, bird wings bearing remarkable resemblance to human hands. Half human, half birds? Faces with yellow eyes, black feathers and sharp beaks. Bodies like humans. Doesn't anyone notice the oddity? We pass several people and they pay no attention. I want to call out, tell them about the strange human/bird combination. My mouth won't work now. It worked before when I puked my guts out. Why not now?

I feel a scream coming on. Frustration building, anger rising. Why can't I talk? I float around the corner, down a short hallway ending with a door. Do I have wings? Is that why I'm floating? A flash of light, a dot changed from red to green. Finally a bit of color in all this white.

I'm sat in the middle of a room. All mirrors. A single chair. I'm strapped, tied, secured to the chair. Then they leave, the gray robed bird ones. Leave me alone. All alone. In a chair. No people. Just me.

My head droops over my chest. Hair in my eyes. I'm waiting. Hello. Now what? Do I just sit here? I guess so. Maybe the game is like chicken, see how long I can sit here waiting.

I count the seconds, they evolve into minutes. Then an hour passes. Two. I keep counting having nothing else to do. I'm out of it. Dazed. Confused. Lonely. Counting is company. The one thing that makes sense. One, two, three...

I never look into the mirrors. Instinct keeps my head down. I know something bad will happen when I look up. When I see my face.. no wait. It won't be my face. It never is.

Four, five, six... bad things. Bad things happen when I look into mirrors. So bad. Scary. Terrifying. Awful. Wait that's one too many. Or it is? Nah. I'll let it slide. This time. Seven, eight, nine...

Counting saves me. Protects me. Nothing bad will take place if I just don't open my eyes. If I don't look up. No. No looking. No seeing. No hearing. I shut it out. Bye bye. Mirrors. You don't exist. It's just me and the chair. Four white walls. That's it. Nothing else.

Ten, eleven, twelve. You going to look? Are you? No. There's nothing there. Thirteen.... fourteen...fifteen...don't do it. I know you're thinking of it. Sixteen... keep counting. Don't stop. Don't ever stop.

Three hours. I've counted for three hours. Another sixty minutes gone by. How many is that in seconds? Let's see, carry the one... 10,800 seconds! I gurgle in triumph. No voice. Never had a voice.

Got to start over. One, two, three. Lights burn bright, a sudden flash and I'm startled. I blink, seeing and not seeing. Too bright. All white. Wait. Where's the blue? Blue and yellow make green. We need blue.

Red and blue make purple. Yellow and red make orange. Blue and yellow make green. So, there should be blue. Now I lost count. I have to start all over. One, two, three...

Hands, rough and demanding. Hands tightening the straps. One strap around my head now, sealed to the chair back. No more drooping. Face the mirrors. Pins under my eyelids, can't close them. Needle in my neck. Yellowish green. No blue.

Now I see me. Now I know why I can't speak. I have bird's beak.

No, no, no! It can't be! I'm not a bird, I'm human. I can't close my eyes, can't look away. The pins tear into my eyelids, pricking the skin. Droplets of blood spill onto my cheeks.

I struggle, strain, fight, loosing but not undoing the straps. Red welts appear on my wrists. I can see them in the mirrors. Surrounded on all sides. Even the ceiling are mirrors. Not the floor. With so many mirrors my bird face is multiplied forever. I open and close my mouth, the beak snaps open, clicks shut. Muffled screams erupt, the sound vibrating in my throat. Let me go! I'm shouting the words in my mind but they don't reach my lips. They never touch my throat. They've taken away my ability to speak.

Why are you doing this to me? Answer me! I want so badly for them to hear me. To answer my questions, explain somwthing, anything, please! They stick me in this chair, in a room full of mirrors and expect me to do...what? Who are you? What do you want from me?

Exhausted, in pain, lost, confused, lonely. With only the girl's image for company. I study her, the girl in the mirrors. Ad infinitum. Her hair is tangled, black as a raven with wispy ends. Like feathers about to fly away but float instead. God, she's so skinny and pale so pale as moonlight. Her eyes are indescribable, inky black but with flecks of brown and gold. Who is she? She can't be me. I'm not sick, am I?

I haven't lost that much weight. I shouldn't even be here. I'm supposed to...I struggle to come up with the answer. I'm supposed... what...meet someone I think. Who? What is his name? Was it a he? Yes, I think.

We had a plan. I'm supposed to meet him. Where?  Who?

Memory teases, reveals for a brief flash then dissipates. Now it's gone. The answer slipping away like pearls on a string. I had it. So close. Now, nothing. I gaze at the girl in the mirror seeking answers she can't give. Who are you?

Cold fire comes like icy fingers trailing their way up my spine. My body locks into place, stiff, frozen. The girl's eyes are wide with fear. As if she knows what will come next. I don't have a clue, but she does. Heat suffuses my skin, baking as if from a thousand suns. Her face changes from white to red, headache inducing, nausea producing heat. She shakes, trembles, quivers.

Her hands clench spasmodically, feet turn inward. What is it? What's happening? I need her to answer me. She can't, can she? The girl is me.

I begin to shake uncontrollably. Violently. The straps rattle, the chair shakes. Every cell in my body, desires to do what she says. Run! The straps around my ankles loosen so that my feet slide down. Firmly planted on the floor, I stand chair and all. I race for the door but suddenly, it isn't there. Just more mirrors. Everywhere I turn are images of doors but not the real one, imitations, fake, false.

Enraged, I swing the chair at the mirrors. The legs smash the glass, breaks them apart, shattering. Where's the door? I want out! Let me out! Smash! Now! Crash! Now! Shatter! Now!

Nothing but white walls. Seamless, running from floor to ceiling. Where's. bang! The. Slam! Door? I stagger, weak, spent, fatigued. My legs droop, knees bend, feet crumple. I land a mangled mess of straps, chair and glass. Panting. Breathless. Devoid of oxygen. Let. Me. Out.

Please.

Let.

Me.

Out.

The pins have fallen out. I can blink now. The girl does the same. In the one mirror left, I see her bloodied, beaten, bruised. Like me. The haze clears. A little. Not much. She is me. I am her. I'm the one who is beaten and bruised. Bloodied and scarred.

I'm trapped. She's trapped. We both are. We can't run. Tears come then. Gut wrenching sobs that twist my stomach.

Aimless.

Helpless.

Hopeless.

Automatically I lift my hand to wipe away the tears. The arm on the chair comes with it. Hands freed, I tear off the mask. Now I see it for what it really is, a metal mask with straps. Like the kind insane criminals wear. Not a bird, metal. I free myself from the restraints and stand to my feet. Not so helpless after all.

The door opens, guards run in, not robes, nor bird faces. Security guards. They wield dangerous looking devices. I dodge, spin and take off for the door. They jab me with the devices, I'm jerking, falling, seizing. Sharp, pointy, jabbed, a needle slides in my neck. Liquid fills, I'm falling, forever falling.

Curled up, fetal position, leave me alone. In-between. Stuck. Lost. Void. Nothing. Absence. Empty. Stuck in a twelve by twelve room, bed and nothing else.

Bed is too far away. Curled up, hard floor. Drool. Stoned. Brain dead. Can't function. Floor hard. Mind numb.

Flashes. Too many flashes. Head hurts. What I saw, what I did. Mind numb. People dead. Not one or two. Ten or eleven. So many this time. Have to or else.

Or else.

Or else.

Punishment.

Now. Shaking, trembling, trapped. Electricity, sparks, shooting pain. Lost. So lost. Words fragmented. Gone.

Tap. Tap.

"Go away."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Head against the wall. Hard taps. Confusion. Multiple taps. Eyes blurry, head aching. Taps are pounding my skull.

"Please stop."

Hands over ears, body folded, eyes squeezed shut. Aching throbbing, thumping pain.

One. Two. Three. Two. One. One. Boom.

What does it mean?

Doors, lights. Guards. I crowd the corner. No. Grabby hands forcefully lift, carry, drop. Bed is not soft. Hard. Hard mattress with poky springs. Straps, blanket, needle. I'm trapped.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I sit up. The chain is too short. I stretch, reach, strain. Fingertips graze the wall. Frustration builds. I draw up my knees, chain chafing my ankles. Desperate. I stretch toward the wall. Pain ripples, chain cuts deep. I don't care. My hand is flat.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Startled, I draw back, studying my hand. Seconds pass. Hand flat on wall again.

Tap. Tap.

I copy it. Tap. Tap.

The sensation grows stronger. Tap. Tap. Tap.

I do the same. Someone exists. Someone other than staff. I channel the words in my mind toward the wall. "Who are you?"

Luke.

"Luke?"

Yes.

"You're in my mind."

I know. I'm telepathic.

"Huh?"

I can talk to people in their minds. And I can read them.

"How?"

I don't know. I've always been able to.

"I can't hear. I'm deaf."

You can hear me.

"In my head."

That's a good thing. Then they can't hear us.

"Who are they?"

Don't you know?

"I forget."

Do you? Will you forget me?

"I don't know. I hope not."

If you do, I will remind you.

"Every time?"

Every time.

"I forget a lot."

Doesn't matter. We're friends now.

"Friends? I never had a friend."

You do now.

"Okay."

What's your name?

"I don't remember."