Present
The lights above her head hummed alive at the shocking hour of 5:30 am. If she’d just been put in here, it would’ve annoyed her. She would’ve rolled over stuffing the scratchy pillow over her face, refusing to wake. Now, after all these months, she’s used to it. She quickly learned that if she didn’t get out of bed, she’d get no breakfast. Then she’d have to wait until three for lunch. So every day, she drags herself out of the uncomfortable cot with the uncomfortable sheets and stares at the soft white walls. A buzzer went off outside her door and a lady in a clean white nurse’s uniform stepped inside. White. White walls. White uniforms, pale white faces, white beds. White everything. She was so sick of white, but her voice wasn’t heard. So she sat and stared. And waited. Waited for him to show up in her perfectly white world. A dark cloud of black, blocking out the familiar. Everyone here reassured her that he was locked up. They didn’t understand that you can’t lock up evil.