They Miss Me

Click. They miss me.

She stared at the white curtains. They were graying with age, and if you looked closely you could notice spots of dirt or mucus that could no longer be washed out.

Click. They miss me not. 
Beyond the curtains she could just make out the moon, divided in half by the heavy bars over the window. It was full tonight, casting an eerie glow on the dark landscape beyond, untouched by man-made light.  The woods in the distance seemed even darker in contrast to its shine.

Click. They miss me.
It was rarely quiet in this room; there were always noises made by people mumbling or shuffling around, or finding something new to moan about. Then there were the others, with their fake smiles and gentle words and not so gentle hands. To her eyes they looked human, but she knew that on the inside they were all evil. Always pretending to care, until the lights went out. At night their masks came off and they would stalk into her room, all greedy hands and red eyes and quiet threats as they took what they wanted. Until tomorrow, when the sun came out and brought their fake smiles with it.

Click. They miss me not. 
She smiled. Then giggled.

Click. They miss me. 
There would be no smiles tomorrow, no red eyes tomorrow night. No more clawed hands or intimidation or fear. After all, how could that evil thing smile with a pencil sticking out of its eye? He’d come again, a burning shadow in the night. This time she’d been ready. She hadn’t been afraid! When he'd hovered over her, she’d plunged the pencil through the embers of his eyes, as far into the monstrosity behind the human skin as it could go. He barely had time to scream.

Click. They miss me not. 
She thought someone might have heard, but no one came. So she wandered here, to this room. The room with the ugly white curtains. She had always hated these curtains, a symbol of the tarnished innocence that this hell was filled with - of her own stained innocence, ripped away on her first night with these monsters.

She would not let them come again. They would not have her, not here, not anywhere.

Click. They miss me. 
She would be free soon. She knew what she had to do - but she had wanted to see the moon one more time first. It had been so long, and she could still remember how she danced beneath it on the hot summer nights at her family cottage. Simpler times, gone now, consumed by the forest fire that had stolen her family. She was supposed to have been there, but had begged to go with a friend on holiday instead. She’d skipped out on family time and had ended up being alone, just like she wanted. Alone and trapped in her own private hell.

Click. They miss me not.
That fire was supposed to have taken her whole family. It was waiting for her – they were waiting for her.

Click. They miss me.
She looked at the lighter in her hand as the lid hung open. It was time. She slowly extended her legs which had been cradled against her chest, and rose from the hard floor. Her white dress shifted softly in the night as she shuffled over to the curtains.

“I’m coming home, mama.” She whispered, before pouring the bottle of medical spirits over her head and the dreary curtains.

Click.