Lyra Gale, Patient No. 33317021034. Age: 22.
Lyra stood against the window, framed by dappled sunshine and shadow. The friendly nurse said that her hair looked very pretty in the sunlight, so she tried to stand close to the light any time she knew someone would see her. She was dressed in a simple white gown, with her hair pulled away from her face in a high ponytail. Not exactly what she had hoped her mother would see her in, but she supposed her mother would understand the lack of proper attire in a glossy prison such as Eve's Insane Asylum.
She fingered her hair, a startling ivory color and curlier than the curly fries she was craving, everyone used to say how beautiful she was, because of her hair. No one had ever seen such a color, except on elderly women who tried to cover it with dyes. She had never tried to dye it, had always been fond of the uniqueness of having been born with stark white hair. Her mother had tried to convince her to dye it once, she had said red would suit her complexion better, but Lyra had refused. What a waste of hair dye that would be, not to mention the money spent on the dye itself.
A gentle knock sounded causing her to jump from her thoughts and look up. The door opened up and in stepped her mother, ever graceful and soft-spoken. Olivia Gale Blair was a beautiful woman past her prime, but willowy and strong. In her left hand was a box wrapped in cheap wrapping paper, in her right was a still partially lit cigarette. The nurse was scolding her, trying to remove the cigarette, but Olivia kept moving in a way to prevent it. Finally, the nurse gave up and left the mother and daughter alone. The room seemed suddenly very small and very plain, compared to her mother.
"Sorry about being so late, darling." Olivia bent to give her daughter's cheek a gentle peck before plopping down on the white twin bed in the middle of the room.
"It's no problem mother. What is in the box?" Lyra sat down, daintily, next to Olivia and peeked around her at the wrapped box.
"Well," began Olivia. "I thought you might like a better blanket then the one they give you here. You know, something more homey and, what's the word I'm looking for? Colorful. You have no color here, everything is white and more white."
Pulling on the last of her cigarette, Olivia handed the box to Lyra. She stared at the wrapped parcel only a moment, then carefully pulled at the tape and opened the box. Inside was a royal blue blanket with small crimson flowers decorating the edges, she held it away from her to stare at it, then pulled it close to her. It smelled of vanilla candles and cigarette smoke, with a hint of some spice she could not name off hand.
"Do you like it?" Her mother's voice sounded far away, as if she were several rooms over, shouting, instead sitting on the same bed, staring at the same object.
"Yes, I like it." Lyra held it closer, rubbing the red flowers over her face and nuzzling the blue fabric. Olivia watched her daughter's actions, reaching into her purse for another cigarette.
"I'm glad, honey. I really am. I'll be back next week, anything you want me to get for you?"
Lyra stopped in her reverie for a moment, looking intently into her mother's pale green eyes. Thoughtfully, she ran her fingers over the stitches again, taking in the shape of each petal and stem.
"Could you get me some of those curly fries you make? I really want some. With a … a TON of ketchup and a big hamburger, the kind that has everything on it, you know? Could you get me some? Please?"
Noting her daughter's eagerness and sincerity, she nodded and quickly left the room. Once out the door, Olivia slumped against the wall, cigarette in hand and a single tear trickling down her cheek. Her only child, her only love in this world, out of her mind and lost somewhere she couldn’t go to find her. She shook herself and forced a brave face for the nurse coming down the hall with medications to distribute.
She would never come back, her newest husband wouldn’t allow it. Having a daughter who was mentally disturbed didn’t exactly fit into his plans for their future together. It was a surprise that he had even married her, knowing about Lyra and her last husband’s strange disappearance. And, deep inside, she wondered if Lyra would even notice.
Lyra stood against the window, framed by dappled sunshine and shadow. The friendly nurse said that her hair looked very pretty in the sunlight, so she tried to stand close to the light any time she knew someone would see her. She was dressed in a simple white gown, with her hair pulled away from her face in a high ponytail. Not exactly what she had hoped her mother would see her in, but she supposed her mother would understand the lack of proper attire in a glossy prison such as Eve's Insane Asylum.
She fingered her hair, a startling ivory color and curlier than the curly fries she was craving, everyone used to say how beautiful she was, because of her hair. No one had ever seen such a color, except on elderly women who tried to cover it with dyes. She had never tried to dye it, had always been fond of the uniqueness of having been born with stark white hair. Her mother had tried to convince her to dye it once, she had said red would suit her complexion better, but Lyra had refused. What a waste of hair dye that would be, not to mention the money spent on the dye itself.
A gentle knock sounded causing her to jump from her thoughts and look up. The door opened up and in stepped her mother, ever graceful and soft-spoken. Olivia Gale Blair was a beautiful woman past her prime, but willowy and strong. In her left hand was a box wrapped in cheap wrapping paper, in her right was a still partially lit cigarette. The nurse was scolding her, trying to remove the cigarette, but Olivia kept moving in a way to prevent it. Finally, the nurse gave up and left the mother and daughter alone. The room seemed suddenly very small and very plain, compared to her mother.
"Sorry about being so late, darling." Olivia bent to give her daughter's cheek a gentle peck before plopping down on the white twin bed in the middle of the room.
"It's no problem mother. What is in the box?" Lyra sat down, daintily, next to Olivia and peeked around her at the wrapped box.
"Well," began Olivia. "I thought you might like a better blanket then the one they give you here. You know, something more homey and, what's the word I'm looking for? Colorful. You have no color here, everything is white and more white."
Pulling on the last of her cigarette, Olivia handed the box to Lyra. She stared at the wrapped parcel only a moment, then carefully pulled at the tape and opened the box. Inside was a royal blue blanket with small crimson flowers decorating the edges, she held it away from her to stare at it, then pulled it close to her. It smelled of vanilla candles and cigarette smoke, with a hint of some spice she could not name off hand.
"Do you like it?" Her mother's voice sounded far away, as if she were several rooms over, shouting, instead sitting on the same bed, staring at the same object.
"Yes, I like it." Lyra held it closer, rubbing the red flowers over her face and nuzzling the blue fabric. Olivia watched her daughter's actions, reaching into her purse for another cigarette.
"I'm glad, honey. I really am. I'll be back next week, anything you want me to get for you?"
Lyra stopped in her reverie for a moment, looking intently into her mother's pale green eyes. Thoughtfully, she ran her fingers over the stitches again, taking in the shape of each petal and stem.
"Could you get me some of those curly fries you make? I really want some. With a … a TON of ketchup and a big hamburger, the kind that has everything on it, you know? Could you get me some? Please?"
Noting her daughter's eagerness and sincerity, she nodded and quickly left the room. Once out the door, Olivia slumped against the wall, cigarette in hand and a single tear trickling down her cheek. Her only child, her only love in this world, out of her mind and lost somewhere she couldn’t go to find her. She shook herself and forced a brave face for the nurse coming down the hall with medications to distribute.
She would never come back, her newest husband wouldn’t allow it. Having a daughter who was mentally disturbed didn’t exactly fit into his plans for their future together. It was a surprise that he had even married her, knowing about Lyra and her last husband’s strange disappearance. And, deep inside, she wondered if Lyra would even notice.
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