Esther huddled under the covers, afraid a lightning bolt would jolt through the window and strike her down. Lights were to be out at six; it was a rule. Esther decided to turn on her little lamp that sat on the little night stand anyway. Everything seemed little to her.

Under the plump mattress, she extracted a picture book. It was something Mrs. Mom showed her yesterday. Esther had snuck the book into her room before playtime, when Mrs. Mom was... well, Esther didn't remeber what she was doing.

The book was titled, "The Ocean," and pictured breathtaking views of the depths below. Esther loved the reflection of the water on the sand floor, and the bountiful colors of undersea life. She ran her delicate fingers along the pages, as if she could actually feel the fish.

There was a picture of a whale leaping out of the water. Mrs. Mom explained how giant the mammal actually was. Esther had never seen anything that big in her life. The book was an effective distraction from the storm. I'm going to go there, someday, Esther thought. Mrs. Mom will take me to the ocean.

A creak from the wooden stairs floated past her bedroom door. Esther quickly turned off the light and slid the book under her pillow. She lied perfectly still until she heard the sound of Mrs. Mom's door closing. After Esther felt it was safe, she turned back on the light and read her book until sleep overcame her.

______________________

Esther wasn't sure if she liked remembering her dreams. Most nights, she had nightmares. She didn't tell Mrs. Mom that, though. Mrs. Mom seemed to be happy. Esther doesn't remeber her ever being that happy. Then again, her memory doesn't work that well. At least... it didn't before.

That fall morning she was startled awake. Her dream was a sweet one, about the sea, but it still saddened her. Esther knew it was something Mrs. Mom would like to hear. As Mrs. Mom began to chart down her words, a thought crossed Esther's mind, and she realized why she felt sad.

"Will I ever see the ocean?"

But Mrs. Mom did not respond. Esther could tell she was in another world. Her smile was glowing, Esther thought. The silence of the room began to swallow her.

Before, every day was a new day. Now, things seemed a lot more... repetitive. Details of the days before were still foggy, but every now and then there was a break in the clouds. Her timeless home started to move again, but it was jumpy and alarming. Her rules would start to make some sense, but then reveal that there was more to the puzzle.

For example, she was supposed to keep all curtains closed, but Esther broke that rule constantly. On that day she peered outside during her playtime. The trees were glorious colors of red and orange. But it felt as if just last week the trees were first budding flowers. Her memory had so many holes that she never knew of before. Esther did not know which was worse, to be oblivious to the extent of her illness, or to know how incomplete her mind was. Maybe she was getting better, but she did not feel better.

_____________________

There were no calendars in the house, or clocks. Nothing to know the passage of time. Esther never knew what day of the week it was, or month. She secretly started to keep track of the days, at least she tried to, anyway.

On the floor boards under her bed, she marked a tally for each day with a pencil she stole from the classroom. Esther knew how many days were in a month, but her tallys never matched the changing of the trees. When the first snowfall of winter came, at least the first one she could remember, Esther stayed awake all night. Not nearly enough days were marked for it to be winter already.

On a random winter morning, Mrs. Mom gently awoke her, holding a mug of hot chocolate. Apparently it was Christmas; Esther had no idea. As she sat in bed, drinking the warm, brown liquid, she couldn't shake the feeling of deja vu. Esther could distinctively remember having two Christmases there. But, as she searched her mind, fragments of past winter mornings drinking hot chocolate surfaced. Was it a random case of deja vu, or had she lived in the house much longer than she had previously thought?

As Mrs. Mom led her to the playroom to open gifts, Esther thought about the ones she had received in the past. Other disturbing memories came to mind. There were times when she would notice a new toy in the playroom, and Mrs. Mom would always say that it was just donated that day. But, it was untrue, she realized. The new toys were Christmas presents she had forgotten, and maybe even birthday presents, too.

All the anxiety suddenly lifted as the door swung open, and the grand piano was revealed. Light sparkled off its slick black coating. Esther's heart stopped as she admired its beauty. She tentatively seated herself on the bench, afraid of damaging the piano's perfection. It was so polished and neat, Esther could see a fuzzy reflection of herself.

It was unrecognizable. Her face was bigger, longer than she remembered. Her eyes, her nose, her lips, all did not look the same. She had to break the rules. Esther had to ask how long she was held captive in the house with no mirrors. The answer nearly killed her inside. Six, almost seven years. Could she really be eleven years old? Her body felt cold, but her heart felt nothing.

For months, Mrs. Mom told her she was healing. She told Esther that she was improving. They were all lies, Esther thought. Because knowing what her reality was, and more devastatingly, what it would never be, gnawed away at her spirit. Her trust with Mrs. Mom was broken. Even if Esther explained how she felt, even if she expressed her pain, Mrs. Mom would lie and say everything was okay, but Esther knew now that it wasn't. Mrs. Mom would probably say that she could fully recover, but Esther knew that Mrs. Mom could not be fully certain of it.

They say the truth will set you free, but the truth was destroying her.

_____________________

Esther pressed on each day, trying to build her strength, trying to gain hope. But, she had grown conscientious to her faults. It wasn't just her memory that faltered. Esther's body got sick often. The only difference now was that she could remember the pain. There was no way she could be normal, even if her mind wasn't cracked.

Her memories were vague, but present. However, the inability to recall most details drove Esther crazy. Knowing that she relived the same day for six years was more painful than her physical sickness. It was impossible to gain joy when holding in so much sorrow. Mrs. Mom was oblivious to it all. Esther did not blame her, though. Mrs. Mom had grown into a loving caregiver, instead of being a cold instructor like she was before.

During Esther's school time, Mrs. Mom often incorporated lessons about the ocean, thinking it brought Esther happiness. Esther did love everything about the seas, but every lesson was a reminder of something that was out of her reach. From the time Esther moved in, she was never even allowed outside.

The weather began to warm up, but Esther turned colder. She understood now why it was necessary to lock up sharp objects. She just might hurt herself.

As summer began, a thought drifted into Esther's mind, burrowed deep inside, and burdened her heart. What if she woke up one day, and the medicine stopped working? What if she went another six years without knowing the time that had passed? What if she spent the rest of her life not remembering?

It took her hours to fall asleep at night, afraid she'd wake up with no memory again. This was not something a little girl should be troubled with, but Esther Hailey was no ordinary girl. Her smile used to shine as bright as the sun. Her attitude used to be that of optimism. Her heart used to be full of child-like wonder. But Esther was no longer that girl anymore. Her spirit was dead.

On a not-so-special summer night, Esther had a dream. She was locked in her room with bars all around her. Esther struggled to free herself but eventually gave up. Time passed, the room grew dusty, Esther grew old, but nothing had changed. She was not free.

That day, Esther replayed her dream in her head, over and over again. Night time quickly approached. After Mrs. Mom tucked her in bed and left the room, Esther came to a conclusion. She was going to die here.

That is, if she stayed.

Her hands flew into action. She took her pillow case and filled it with clothes and checked the door; it was locked, as usual. She had to use the window. Esther felt the velvety curtains in her hands, gripped it tight and pulled as hard as she could. It didn't take much for the curtain to give way and fall to the ground. She began to tie knots to grip while climbing. One end was tied to the bed and the other was wrapped up I  her arms. Esther looked the window up and down, trying to plan her next steps. The window did not open, so she would just have to break it.

Esther went into her bathroom, looking for something heavy. Everything dangerous was locked away; it made Esther feel like a baby.  She realized the lid for the back of the toilet was her best option.

The window towered over Esther, reaching all the way to the ceiling. She froze, holding the porcelain lid over her head; the curtain and pillow case lying next to her feet. Once it was shattered, she will have to act fast. If Mrs. Mom was still awake, she'd most definitely hear the glass break. Esther prayed for Mrs. Mom to be in a deep sleep or distracted in her study downstairs.

Although there was no feeling in her arms or legs, her heart was bursting. It was the most she had felt in months. In the house, she was nothing but a sick girl with a sick mind. In the house, she had no say and no freedom. In the house, she could never truly be Esther. It was time for her to leave the house with no mirrors.

Glass shattered as her gate to freedom opened. Esther cast her rope over the edge, and began her descent. The bottom of the curtain was only five feet above the ground.  The pillow case dropped first, and then she let go. Her young body braced for impact and rolled. She dusted off herself, grabbed the case, and started running.

Esther followed the grassy lane covered with apples all the way to the road. She stopped to catch her breath and think. A few weeks ago, she had a geography lesson and reviewed her directions. East, she thought. Esther needed to head east, away from the setting sun and towards the nearest coast.

The area was quite beautiful, and Esther never had a clue. There were rolling hills and grazing cattle. A couple cars passed her by as she walked along the road. Then, a horse and buggy stopped abruptly right next to her.

"Do you need a ride into town?" An older gentleman asked. He had a long gray beard, wirey glasses, and wore strange clothes. A woman sat next to him, wearing clothes of the similar fashion.

"I am trying to get to the ocean," Esther replied quietly.

"Where is your mother?" The woman asked.

"I don't know my mom, or my dad."

"We can take you to the bus stop, if you'd like." The man suggested.

Esther thanked the strange people for their kindness and joined them inside the buggy. As they bounced along, Esther asked about their clothes and culture. The couple did not find her rude or insulting, but enjoyed her honest curiosity.

They reached town while the summer sun was still shining. Esther found it warm and inviting. People roamed the sidewalks, enjoying the warm evening. This is what it's like to be normal, Esther thought while gazing at the townies.

"You will need this," the old man said while handing Esther money. She looked up at them with watery eyes.

"I do not remember well, but I hope I never forget your kindness."

The horses clip-clapped away as Esther surveyed the bus stop. There were a few benches and an overhang for the buses to park under. Next to the benches was a glass display with a map of bus routes. Esther reached inside her ocean book and grabbed a spare piece of paper. She began writing down the buses she had to take so that she wouldn't forget them later. As she wrote, she thanked God for finally learning how to read.

Esther sat on the steely bench, crossed her feet, folded her hands, and waited for her bus. Finally, Esther thought, I'm going to see the ocean.