Allison has been teaching me lots of things, she says she hasn't met someone so interested in learning in a long time. I'm still not allowed to leave my room, and I long to leave this cramped space, my knowledge spreads far past this door, and is bursting out the door.
I can't stop drawing or writing, everything just flies out of the pencil like it was meant to be on that piece of paper and no other. She's been asking about me more and more, and it gets hard, I don't remember, and she remembers so much, I feel like I'm wrong.
"What was your mother's name? Do you know? Or remember?"
"No, just that she used to sing to me," I tell her, there is screaming going on in the hall, and by now I know it's not their joy to see the beauty of the light. Even I somewhat loathe the light, it shows who I really am, who I really look like, and it's terrifying, I don't want these people to know me.
"What kind of songs?" She asks while taking notes in a big black book that's soft and cushion-like. She lets me hold it sometimes, but never am I to look inside. I feel like I'm in the dark again, not allowed to see the light. If it's anything like the light, I don't want to see it.
"I don't know.. they were soft, and made me sleepy."
"I see," she scribbles, it's almost as if she isn't writing she goes so fast, I try to peek but she pulls it up to her chest and shakes her head with a smile. "No peeking Maria!"
I smile back, but I really want to see what she's writing, so today I ask. "What do you write in there Ally?"
"I write about the people I see here,"
"Because, other people want to know what you're doing, and how you are doing!"
"Who are they..? Can I meet them?"
"No, no, they are busy sweetheart, don't worry. Maybe someday."
I sigh, and draw shapes in my sheets with my fingers, these sheets are getting dirty and I wonder when the next change is coming. I don't like asking, because I know that I'm not the only one here, or so I'm told by the cleaning lady who has been allowed to enter my room now. She's cranky, and sometimes rude, but I offer her smiles, and hope someday she'll return the favour.
I lie down on my bed, and stare at the ceiling, it's plain white, but over time it's seemed to have shifted into a very pale green, or my eyes are playing tricks because I'm so bored.
"Ally.. will I ever go outside?"
"Soon, then you'll see the other patients, and you can talk to them."
"No, like outside, those pictures you showed me yesterday, can I go there?"
Allison is quiet, she keeps writing and writing, and the silence between us is growing into something uncomfortable and unusual. I turn to look at her, and she's hiding behind her hair, I lean to peek at the book, and she pulls it up to her chest again.
"No peeking." She says without a smile, "I'm done today, I'll see you tomorrow, Sorry." She gets up really quick and leaves with a slam of the door. I jump at the loud sound, how it echoes.
I stare at the door, and wonder why she did that, she's never left without a smile, never left without saying goodbye. I felt odd, like something was missing, empty, alone. I couldn't describe the pain in my heart as I stared at the door.
After a few minutes I began to cry, not quietly like I used to at night when I missed Allison, but in loud, harsh cries like the people in the halls, and I can't stop myself. I know I did something wrong, but I can't seem to figure out what it was. I think Allison is mad at me, and I'm afraid she's gone.
Gone like my mother.