My White Room

By: Harumichi

She wakes up in a white box.

She has lived here most of her life.

This is all she's ever known or all she chooses to remember.

Maybe there's another world filled with skies that stretch out to infinites, or oceans that surpass the horizon, farther than the eye can see. But for now she waits there patiently, watching the clock tick down minute after minute, hour after hour, month after month, year after year.

It could be day or night, but it doesn't matter anymore. They have all blended in to one, leaving a pattern of stars and trinkets behind. There are no more lullabies to be sung at night, or banana pancakes to be excited for in the morning. No, those memories are long gone.

She hears voices, voices of those whom she loves dearly.

They adore her.

They care for her.

They need her.

And after many years, she finally realized that is the only reason she resides in here. It's not enough a reason to stay and not enough reason to leave.

She loves her life now, but she never wanted it. She still wonders about the memories of the past where life was still normal. Maybe that life could've brought her more pleasure than this one, but she won't dare ask "What if?" It wouldn't be fair to tempt herself.

This is her life now. She has comfort and stability here; she shouldn't feel so trapped. Maybe the reason is this is her life forever.

She has no chains or locks that imprison her here, but she knows of the consequences of her freedom and the damages that would be left if she were to leave. She couldn't sacrifice their needs for hers.

She could leave.

She wants to leave.

But she knows she shouldn't.

So for now, she'll wait here patiently, watching the clock tick down minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, year after year. And tomorrow she'll wake up in that same white box again.