Your heart is pounding in your chest. The screams you hear ringing in your ears. The cries and pants causing your head to race. Laughter raises through the horror of the people. You can hear it, feel it. You realize the laughter is coming from you.
Your body is quaking on the ground, convulsing terribly. Your chest heaving with the demented giggles leaving your throat. In one hand you hold a knife, the other a small bear. The knife is dripping with blood.
“Who’s is it? What happened? What have you done?”
The questions being asked made your head hurt worse. The detectives gave up and left you in a colourful room. The floor was littered with flashy, fancy toys. You didn’t care for them at all. The men who had taken you from home had taken the only toy you liked.
You long for the stuffed bear your aunt had given you as a baby. For most children it was boring and bland, but the bear gave you joy. It whispered secrets to you, told you happy things.
‘The new neighbors have a daughter. Why not go play?’ The bear asked over and over, encouraging you to make a friend. It took two weeks but you finally gave into it’s wishes.
You finally went to play and it was scary. It was scary and it landed you here, in this colourful room.
