You

 

    Green. All I see is green. 

    It is not a pleasant green, of meadows and life. It is pale, sickly, fading. 

    Time moves slowly here. Although there are no clocks on the walls, I feel like I can hear them ticking, second by second, as my life inches away into nothingness. 

    I am empty. 

    Then, startled. There is a loud noise. I look anxiously next to me. "Medicine time," he says. 

    We go out in the hallway with everyone else. 

    I am given a cup, with three formidable looking pills. 

    "What are they?" I ask, and no one answers. 

    He looks upset. "Dont take that," he barks, going to talk to the doctors. 

    So I don't, and time continues to inch by. He comes back in a huff, and someone is speaking. 

    "They want to take your blood," he says. I shrug and get up, following them to a cold, metal seat on the other side of the hallway. I look into soulless eyes around me, and wonder when I will become like everyone else here. 

    Two nurses come along, rolling a cart of vials and blood. 

    Used to the prick, I put out my arm. 

    Ouch! Wrong place. I do a double take. These nurses look young, maybe inexperienced. 

    They work together whispering fast. Blood is coming out and something slips. Now it's dripping on the floor. I haven't eaten yet. Nausea in my stomach starts to rise. 

    More accidental pricks. 

    More nausea. 

    Finally they are done, and I know: I'm not gonna make it. But I try. I run past many pairs of watching eyes, hold up my hands, and what little I have left in me comes out. It's on the floor, my hands, my hair...but the rule stands. No showers. 

    The day passes in a blur that I can't accept as reality. At least in my room I feel an inkling of safety. But they keep moving us to the hall. 

    Everyone stares. I probably would too. What on earth is a foreigner doing here?! 

    As I sit in the hall, I listen to the constant tap of the young teen playing games on his caretaker's phone. 

    I don't feel. 

    I look away, and my eyes meet a smile. 

    "Hi," she says. She looks young, maybe 18. 

    "Hi." I don't know what else to say. Clearly "How are you?" wouldn't cut it here. 

    "I'm sorry, my English is not good."

    "It's fine." 

    "I wanted to give you something," she hands me a long piece of paper. "Our schedule for every day. See?"

    I look down at the handwritten note, and my stone cold heart moves a little. 

    "Thank you," I smile. 

    I begin to see the moments. Moments of light shining in a very dark place. Attempts at conversation. An oragami flower-a gift. Smiles amid the stares. 

    "What are their stories?" I find myself wondering. I don't see danger, but kindness. Hurt. Pain. Soft hearts. 

    I am finally able to escape. 

    But they stay. 

    And I wonder, what will happen? 

    Will the world continue to torture her sweet smile? How can anyone heal in that place? 

    The questions haunt me to this day.