Chapter 1: Monday

“Good-morning, Sarah.”

“Good-morning, Sir.” I rub the sleep from my eyes, slowly adjusting to the bright room around me.

“Did you sleep well, Sarah?”

“Quite well, Sir” I slide my feet off the bed, and into my bright pink slippers, “I had the dream again.”

“And it was the same as last time?”

“Yes, I left the room, and the darkness ate me.” I shiver, remembering the nightmare I have every time I sleep. The beast I call the darkness chasing me down hallways I can’t see. I run down the hallways, down the stairs, but he always catches me as I reach the outside door.

“Hmm, good.”

“How is that good, Sir? Aren’t nightmares bad?”

“It is good that you know the danger of the outside world. Beyond these white walls, there is nothing but darkness and despair waiting for you.”

“Yes, Sir, I know.” I trudge over to the mirror, to look at the girl. Sir tells me that I am that girl, but she can not be me. The girl in my mirror is dead. Her hair is missing, her eyes are sunken, and her teeth are falling out. She looks so sick and tired as she picks up the yellow wig and puts it on her broken head. But I’m not sick, I’m not tired. She seems entirely hopeless as she brushes her teeth and puts on my favorite pink, flowery dress. But I’m not hopeless.

“Are you ready for breakfast, Sarah?”

“Yes, Sir.” I say, turning to the table that has already been set. “I don’t think the girl slept last night, Sir.”

“Didn’t you dream?”

“Yes, Sir.” I confirm, “But why does that matter?”

“If you dreamt, then you must have slept.”

“Right, of course, Sir.” He still insists that she is me, but that doesn’t make sense. I sit at the table and see my plate of eggs and potatoes. The girl says she eats some kind of goo for breakfast. So she can’t be me.

“Is your breakfast good, Sarah?”

“Yes, Sir. The eggs are very nice.” I clean my plate. I’m always so hungry in the morning.

“I have to go now, Sarah.”

“Goodbye, Sir.” I wave, picking up the dishes and taking them to my sink. ‘Always clean up after yourself.’ I remember the lady saying. I don’t know who she was, but I remember her. Sir doesn’t know about the lady. There are a lot of things Sir doesn’t know. Like the window. I walk to look out it, leaving my clean dishes in the washed tub. Sir thinks it’s a painting of a forest, but paintings don’t move. I know it’s a window because the wind blows and the leaves on all the trees move back and forth. I know it’s a window because I can see animals walk past, and sometimes they talk to me.

“Hello, Sarah.” Ms. Squirrel crawls up the wall and sits on my windowsill.

“Hello, Ms. Squirrel,” I wave to my friend, “How are you today?”

“I’m quite good sarah, the leaves are turning, and the forest is littered with nuts!” She seems so happy, her children went hungry last winter, but maybe they won’t this year.

“That’s very good news, I’m glad!”

“How about you, Sarah?”

“I’m doing quite well also, but I’m worried about the Girl in my mirror.”

“Why’s that?”

“She’s getting worse every day. I don’t think she sleeps anymore, and she has new bruises each morning.”

“That doesn’t sound good, have you asked her about it?”

“Not yet, I want to, but the crawlies don’t let me.”

“Didn’t I tell you how to get rid of them?”

“Yes, so did Sir, but it’s very hard, they don’t want to leave.”

“You have to control the crawlies, don’t let them tell you what to do.”

“Yes, I know, Ms. Squirrel, I’ll try.”

“She is your friend, isn’t she?”

“My best friend!”

“Then you must do what you can to help her.” Ms. Squirrel paused, holding her little paw to her chin the way she does when she’s about to tell a story. Exited, I sit down, legs crossed, hands on knees, just like the lady taught me. “I remember, when I was younger, my best friend had gotten into some trouble with the foxes.” I had heard this story before, it’s one of her favourites to tell, so I always let her tell it, reciting it in my head as she speaks. “We were sitting around the hollow, and I noticed a bit of red on her tail. I thought to ask her something, but I felt a crawly in my ear, whispering to me ‘don’t say anything, she doesn’t want to talk about it, you’ll just embarrass yourself.’ and I listened to the crawly, and I didn’t bring it up. But that was a huge mistake, because once you let one crawly in, it invites all it’s friends. So later, at dinner, I heard more crawlies in my ear, telling me not to eat, telling me not to speak, and I went to bed without any food. And then as the days went by, I kept letting the crawlies tell me what to do. I kept obeying them, until they crawled past my ears, and into my eyes. They told me what to see, and when to sleep, and I always did what they said. I did, that is, until one day, my best friend went missing. The crawlies screamed at me. In my ears, in my eyes, in my fingers, in my feet. They screamed at me to not do a thing, but I couldn’t let them have their way. I went out, and I found her, surrounded by foxes, covered in cuts, on the brink of death. And I brought her home. If I had let the crawlies win, I would have lost my best friend. Please, Sarah, don’t do what the crawlies say.”

“I won’t, Ms. Squirrel.” I stand up, turning to go to my mirror. “I’ll talk to her right now, and I’ll see you later.”

“Goodbye, Sarah.” She scurries back into the forest.

“Hello, Sarah,” The Girl groans, looking at me with her dead eyes.

“Hello, Girl.” I wring my fingers, hearing the crawlies in my ears. “How are you?”

“Same as ever.”

“S-so, I n-need to talk to you.” I stutter, the crawlies’ screams drowning out my words. “About all the cuts and bruises you’ve got.”

“No. I don’t want to talk about that.” Her head drops, her wig falling off.

“Please, Girl?” I pause, waiting for her to look at me. She doesn’t. “I told Ms. Squirrel I would do what I could to help you. I promised.”

“I never liked Ms. Squirrel anyway.”

“Don’t say that, she’s very nice.”

“No, she’s a liar. She says nice things but she doesn’t mean them. She talks about good things but there aren’t any good things. Not here.”

“That’s not true! There are plenty of good things here! The food is good, the toys are good, and all my friends are very good!”

“The food is terrible, it makes me vomit. And I don’t have any toys. And I don’t have any friends.”

“But, I’m your friend.” I feel a little hurt, the way she said that, and the crawlies get louder.

“No, you only talk to me because because you have to. You wouldn’t care if I was gone.”

“That’s not true, Girl! You’re my best friend, I would rather spend time with you than anyone else.” I reach my hand to caress her, but my hand stops on the mirror.

“Yes, it is.” She turns away, I don’t think she’ll talk anymore.

“Okay, I’ll go now, but we need to talk about it.” she shakes her head, letting me know she won’t talk about it. Walking over to my toybox, I decide what to do until lunch. I’ll probably play with my yoyo today, I don’t think I’m up to being creative with anything right now. The yoyo is mesmerizing, it goes up and down, up and down, up and down, until the lunch bell rings.

“Hello, Sarah.”

“Hello, Sir.” I put the yoyo away and sit at the table, excited for lunch. It’s a burger and mashed potatoes today.

“How has your day been?”

“My day’s been alright, I spoke with Ms. Squirrel, an-” He cuts me off.

“You spoke with who?”

“Ms. Squirrel, she lives in the forest, outside. She came to the window and told me a story.”

“Sarah, there is no window, there is no forest. All that exists outside is the darkness, you know that.”

“Yes, Sir.” I hang my head, he always sounds angry when he disagrees with me. “I also played with my yoyo.”

“You fixed it?”

“What do you mean, Sir?” I don’t remember my yoyo ever being broken. “Was it broken?”

“Yes, you threw it a few nights ago, and it broke.”

“Oh, right.” I pretend to remember. It’s pointless to argue with Sir, he never accepts that I’m right. I never broke my yoyo. I don’t know why he says I did.

“What are you going to do when you finish lunch?”

“I don’t know. I’ll clean my dishes, but I don’t know what else I’ll do.”

“How has your anxiety been?”

“The crawlies have been very loud today.” That’s what he called them, ‘anxiety’ but that doesn’t mean anything. I think about telling them that he makes them louder, but they convince me not to.

“Have you been sad, or angry?”

“Yes, I’ve been very sad because the girl is hurt, but she won’t talk to me.” after I say it, I realize that he’ll disagree.

“There is no girl, Sarah, I’ve told you this far too many times for you to still not understand. The mirror shows your reflection, the girl you see there is you.”

“Yes, Sir.” I hang my head, getting up to wash my dishes.

“Aren’t you going to finish your potatoes, Sarah?”

“No, Sir, I’m full.” I dump the leftovers in the bin, and quickly wash my plate.

“Okay, Sarah. Well, I should go now. I will see you later.”

“Goodbye, Sir.” I lay down in bed, covering my eyes as the sadness grows.

I hear the creaking of the wooden dolls, creeping across my floor. Opening my eyes and turning my head, I watch the family scoot across the floor. There’s a mother, a father, a sister, a brother, and a baby doll. They all look the same, except for their heights, but I can still tell who is who. They are just cylinders, with little balls for heads. And they shuffle around half-dead. Mother and father are the tallest, and they have the darkest wood. Brother and sister are smaller, with somewhat lighter wood. And baby is the smallest, with wood that’s almost white. The wooden dolls stare at me with eyes they don’t have.

“Hello, dolls.” I try talking to them, I always do, but they never respond. “What are you doing today?” They stare blankly, unmoving. “Do you want something?” They don’t answer, “Are you okay?” I keep asking them questions, but they just stand there, unmoving, unanswering, unnerving. After more questions than I can count, I decide to just stop asking, and stare back. The dolls don’t like this, and turn away from me. They quickly scoot away, creaking as they move, into the corner where they fade.

I climb from my bed, less sad now, and walk over to my toybox. I think I’ll play with my paints now, they’re fun. I pull the art kit out from the box, and splay the papers across the floor. I think I’ll draw the dolls, since I saw them today. Before I start, I check the wall, where the notches appear to keep time. Every 4 notches, the next meal is ready, and that usually means that Sir will show up. There are still three notches until dinner, so I should have time to hide the picture before Sir shows up. He doesn’t know that I paint, I don’t think he’d be happy if I told him. I start with the pencil, as always, drawing the outlines first. Five little rectangles with five little circles on top. I take the dark brown and paint mother and father. Then I paint brother and sister, and then finally baby. This takes me almost a whole notch, and as I start to put away, I realize I forgot something. Their eyes. Even though I can’t see them, I always know they are there. So I give each doll two small flames, which burn deep within their heads.

“Hello, Sarah.”

“Hello, Sir.” I panic, trying to hide the painting under the toybox, he wasn’t supposed to come until dinner. “You’re early.”

“I am, I didn’t have anything else to do, so I thought I would say hello to my favorite patient.”

“Oh,” I sigh, I hate it when he calls me a patient. I don’t know what that means, and he never tells me.

“What’s this, that you’re holding?”

“Oh, well,” I didn’t finish hiding it, and he saw. “It’s a painting. I made it.”

“Can I see it?”

“Yes, Sir.” I hand him the painting, and drop my head, waiting for him to chastise me.

“What are these?”

“The wooden dolls, the ones that watch me when I’m sad.”

“Sarah.”

“Yes, Sir?” he sounds so angry, he’s always angry.

“There are no dolls. We’ve talked about this, you need to stop talking about all these hallucinations. You’re just feeding the madness.”

“Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

“I know we don’t have any more pills, but you need to try to get by without them.”

“Yes, Sir, I’m trying.” I never liked the pills, they make all my friends go away, they make me hurt all the time, and they take away all the beauty.

“Well I need you to try harder, Okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’ll go now, I won’t be back for dinner, but I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay, Goodbye, Sir.”

Today has been very sad, and I don’t have to eat dinner. I decide to go to bed. The lights don’t go out, they never do, but I drift off anyway.