White

Tic. Tock. Tic. Tock. Tic. Tock.

The sound of the seconds passing is numbing. The sky outside is dull and grey, promising rain. I see a black bird on the telephone wire. So free. Able to fly away without painful chains weighing them down.

I am not a bird.

I am not free.

The nurse behind the counter sneezes, wiping the back of her hand on her white uniform.

I look at my reflection in the window. There isn't anything special about me. White hair flopping down over steel grey eyes. Pale skin, too thin in the eyes of some, too fat in the eyes of others, not even decently tall. The white clothes they gave me hang loose and baggy on my body, like playing dress up.

I melt into the white room. I'm just as invisible as it is. Just as sickeningly white. I toy with the gauze wrapped around my throat with a frown, ignoring the looks of the other patients and the scolding glances the nurses cast me.

Thirty seven stitches covered up under a blanket of soft white cloth. The cut I don't remember making. I was high on woe and pills. My throat stings when I swallow. The gauze itches. I'm not allowed to remove it yet. It hasn't been six hours yet.

One of the nurses sends me another look. Too lazy to come over herself. Too lazy to tell me to eat. So she just stares at the back of my head, hoping I'll pick up the plastic spoon.

I do. I stir the food on my plate around into a puddle of inedible mush, all but the applesauce. It reminds me a bit of school lunch. or hospital food. But then it is technically a hospital.

Biely is a fat ass! Biely is a fat ass! The voices chant.

Worthless fat ass Biely. Why don't you die?

Aw are you crying?

You want to get rid of the white don't you?

Why not make it red?

We like red.

You like red.

Let's make this ugly white into beautiful ruby.

I absently nod to myself. To the voices. They are right. Red is beautiful.

I eat the apple sauce and then silently break the back of the spoon. The plastic is strong, and now just jagged enough.

I press it into the sensitive scarred and marked skin of my wrists and hiss in pain as the crimson comes out. I'm secretly glad for the grey robe covering my arms. They wont see now. I cut a bit more, and then press the napkins to it and tie makeshift band-aids around my wrists with some more.

I am called by one of the nurses to see the doctor, and I pull the sleeves down. They don't see.

The doctor's office is as white as everything. He's wearing a pair of black jeans under the white coat and grey shirt.

His hair is brown. His eyes are green. He has a greek olive tan, and a pair of rectangle black glasses. The name tag on his desk reads Reed. Doctor Reed Jacobs. He's normal looking. He isn't sick lick us.

"How are you?" he asks. His voice is nice. The office smells like juniper soap and rubbing alchohol.

I shrug.

He frowns. Then decides to try again.

"I'm Reed." he says.

"Biely." I whisper.

Hey Biely. He's cute.

You want him.

Let's kiss him.

He'll hurt you.

He doesn't want you.

Why don't we make him want you?

He'd be nice and red.

Don't you think?

Hey Biely. Let's kill him.

I shake my head. "No." I moan into my hands.

Kill him Biely!

Kill him!

You'll do it soon.

You don't have a choice.

We'll protect you.

Doctor Reed put's his hand on my knee. I stiffen and back the chair into the door abruptly.

Cheeky isn't he.

Already making a move.

Kiss him.

Kill him.

He'll steal you away.

He'll drop you on your ass when he gets what he wants.

He wants to fuck you.

He wants to let the other's have turns fucking you.

We will never leave you.

We love you.

Kill him.

Trust us.

Kill him.

I gulp. I look up at the clock with tears in my eyes.

Tic. Tock. Tic. Tock.