Winter's Tears

"So, Winter how are we feeling today?" Her perfectly toned voice was at such a pitch that it was suppose to be calming, comforting. Her pale, pastel clothes and pale brown hair did nothing for her pasty and slightly blotchy complexion.

She was but one amongst many psychologists who had be assigned to Winter's case. All of them designed to confirm and monitor her condition and emotional state.

Winter merely regarded her with a level gaze. This one was an old one, she had been around Winter a while. Her gaze and eerie coloured eyes didn't effect her. Or she had just grown better at hiding it.

'So strange….. Almost like pearls encased in diamonds….'

Winter flicked through her mind with little regret. She had laid exposed to them all, there was nothing of Winter they hadn't seen. Privacy wasn't a big issue when you were considered a global threat, apparently.

"You know Winter, we can't help you if you don't tell us how you're feeling." She said with a well practiced smile.

I picked at the edge of my arm rest, the pale cream leather well worn in that particular place. Much to Dr Francis's dismay, in her eyes the couch was worth a small fortune and she shouldn't be wrecking it.

She was using Winter's habit as a distraction to keep calm. She didn't like having Winter as a client. And if it wasn't for the big fat check she got, she wouldn't deal with the freak.

Yes, all her thoughts lay open for Winter's picking. Humans, masters of deception she was learning. Their lips and face saying one thing, their minds riddled with the truth and emotions.

Winter was usually pretty good, she didn't provoke the humans around her. She didn't go out of her way to scare the staff. But Winter was tired and aggravated, not entirely unreasonable seeing's in the past two weeks she had received shock after shock. They were at lower voltage to the first one where she had felt the presence around the rings. But they still hurt. A lot.

She watched her Doctor as she continued to ramble on about the importance of communication, and how if she didn't wish to speak a note pad and pen could be provided.

She hadn't spoken a word since the day her parents packed her up and had her committed. The memory still as fresh and livid even after all these years, and Winter felt the usual tugs of anger and betrayal. The love for her parents marring against the destructive emotions until they mixed within her, leaving her riddled with un wanted emotions and memories.

After the first few months of her stay here they thought bringing her parents back would cox her into talking. But as far as Winter was concerned, they had already decided. They had made their decision and Winter had made hers. She wouldn't say a word to these people or the ones who had once said they loved her and tucked her into bed at night.

Her hand tightening on the couch was the only exterior movement that gave way to her thoughts. She had become a master at keeping her appearance looking calm and aloof while she raged whatever inner battle. But there were some places that inspired to much emotion. And much to her dismay it broke through. Occasionally.

Her Doctor of course honed in on the movement, and started asking a whole new serries of annoying questions. Ones Winter didn't answer.

Growing increasingly frustrated Winter lifted her eerie eyes to the women. Pinning her with the eyes that had inspired so much discussion and questions. Winter had long since taken the details of the room. As her own room was so void of stimuli she made sure to make up for it when she had the chance.

So she had long since noted the picture of Dr Francis's husband and young son that was held in a simple sterling silver frame. The silver held small etchings and designs. The picture was large, and hung behind Dr Francis's head.

With the smallest of movements, Winter flicked her finger, as if she was brushing of a stray thread that had become lodge under her nail. Although the movement was carefully aimed at the thin glass that protected the photographs glossy surface.

The glass cracked as if it had been struck by a large object, a fist of a baseball bat. The crack echoing through the room, cutting her doctors rambling short. As she turned to look for the source of the sound.

Winter watched as the cracks moved further up the picture, moving in such precise directions that the glass managed to slice between her husband and Dr Francis. Before a second crack cut above the sons head, separating him from his parents entirely. The way the cracks were positioned there was no misunderstandings. The family had been broken.

The Doctor immediately started shrieking and calling for help. Winter didn't fight back as she was ripped from her seat by strong hands. Their hands pinning her own slender arms behind her back as she was shoved front first into the nearest wall. The noise around Winter was nothing but a distant hum as was the slight pinch in her outer thigh.

She had been drugged. Again. And as she was pulled into another drug haze she remembered the cameras that had sat at key points through the room. There would be no mistake as they replayed them, who had cracked the picture. With Winter's index finger moving in such precise direct movements towards the glass. Movements that would match the markings.

She felt nothing over this. They already knew what she could do. And this, this was a party trick. A reminder that the shocks hadn't and wouldn't worked.

Winter was growing tired of it all. The darkness was not only surrounding her in sleep. No the darkness was plaguing her mind, tainting her once pure imagination. She felt what the darkness could do, its cold calculating hands, that would drive her to an unseen edge.

She would be punished. And as Winter welcomed the drug found haze, she found she didn't really care.