Light A Way

40

"Good morning, Miss Hart, how are you feeling today? I heard from Doctor Morrison that you weren't sleeping well. Why is that? Are you having bad dreams again?"

"Sandra Clarke...Nurse Clarke...what lovely weather we are having, are we not? How is the husband? Does he know about Nathan yet? Tsk, tsk, naughty Nursey." Three years of solitary and idiotic health care was really starting to grate on Elsie. Five years she had been stuck within this cell. This cell which could not burn, and could not melt. Admittedly it wasn't her original room, the West Wing went up in flames when some doctor didn't restrain her hands properly. She had been in that cell for a year and it was horrible enough, purging the whole floor and the majority of the building itself; she was doing this place a favour.

Being on good behaviour allowed her small liberties of not always having her hands crammed in these shackles which covered her whole hands and part of her forearms. This good behaviour went up in smoke, literally, when one of the ward's officers decided to try and take liberties of his own. He ended up being airlifted to hospital for third degree burns and it later transpired that he died in the operating theatre. Right then Elsie was shoved into a new smaller cell with a smaller window which let in very little light. But that was okay, because the high powered lights they bombarded her eyes with for most of the day illuminated the room plenty enough that the sun wasn't really needed.

She grinned and waved simply at the hatch which Nurse Clarke was glaring through. "Now, now, if you two would chatter in front of my cell, what else am I meant to do other than listen?"

"It's useless information anyway. Who'd believe you if you spoke anyway?" Nurse Clarke spat back at her and slammed the hatch shut. "Enjoy the rest of the day, Miss Hart. Only another twenty plus odd years to get through before you can actually enjoy a day, hm?"

Elsie clenched her fists and narrowed her eyes. Only to wince when the brightness got upped. It was a form of punishment. Naturally like most in this, what she presumed, was a psychiatric hospital of some description, she received punishments when she stepped out of line. Whereas solitary was usually a punishment, she couldn't very well move to a smaller cell, though she expected one existed somewhere, so they rigged her cell to act as her lodgings as well as punishments for when she did wrong. She was reasonably a model prisoner. For the most part. She wasn't exactly allowed outside, so she couldn't escape, she had very little to do other than consultations with one Doctor Morrison, who was certain what plagued her was just a disease of the mind.

Elsie really, and she could admit to this, was confused. Three years ago she woke up in a room like this. And since then she has stayed in this room after her old one got smoked out. There was no trial. No public humiliation. Heck, she hadn't even been shipped back to England! She only knew this because each and every nurse and doctor she had crossed paths with was speaking with an American accent. If she was back in England, these lot did a brilliant job with their voice acting. She knew though, through all the confusion that this was a specialised hospital for the slightly less sane of the community. She had heard frantic calls and cries which cemented this for her.

Sitting at her desk, she flipped open a book. At least she was allowed to read. She presumed that there wasn't actually a sure way to prove she was a mutant, other than her albinism, that didn't even need to be proved. But the fire, the flames she so easily wielded couldn't be proved and she certainly did not show it off to these simple minded idiots. So, for the most part, yes Doctor Morrison was basing it off her being schizophrenic or something. That she believed she could do these things, when in actuality it was led to believe that she was just a serial arsonist who burnt her mother, and a few other locations back in England.

"Whatever helps you sleep better at night, Doctor." Elsie mused while leaning her chin against her hand. She couldn't sleep. There were no nightmares contrary to Nurse Clarke's beliefs. Elsie couldn't sleep because when it got dark, it was so dark she could not see anything. Elsie dreaded to think of what lurked in the dark. She was on a floor on her own, for obvious reasons, she didn't know who could be outside. And that scared her. So she stayed up each night, hand aflame and looking to the door. She occasionally slept in the day, but very rarely. She didn't trust these people. And she certainly didn't trust what they'd do to her if she ever let her guard down.