Life was beautiful. It was simple. She loved being there in the room. It was a nice room with pretty peach-colored walls, or were they tan? There were little tables and wicker chairs to sit in. Blooming flowers in white vases on lace doilies decorated the middle of those tables, or were they ivory candles in golden holders? A dark brown woven rug covered most of the floor, its thread fringe stamped flat from the trampling of many feet -- no, the floor was plain hardwood, wasn't it? There was no door. There was no need for a door. Why have a door when one had no place else to go, no place else one wanted to go. So there was no door, was there?

Whatever. It didn't matter. It mattered not one bit what color the walls were, whether it was candles or flowers that decorated the tables, if there was a rug on the floor or even if there was a door. None of that was important. What mattered was that everyone was there. Everyone was in that hazy little (big?) room, sitting, chatting, laughing, arguing, or just simply being. She was one of the latter, just sitting in one of those chairs, be it wicker or metal. She sipped from a teacup as she looked over all the people gathered there.
There was little Anna, plopped down in the middle of the floor, legs sprawled wide and staring avidly at a small toy held in still pudgy baby-hands, even though Anna was old enough to be beyond the toddler stage. Sybil was standing over the child, looking homely in a plain blouse and slacks, hair pulled back into a frazzled ponytail. The older woman waggled a bony finger at the youngster, frowning mouth saying words that only the child could hear, apparently scolding Anna for some misdemeanor.

She took another sip from her cup. Yeah. Sybil was scolding Anna. She could tell because Jozie, tall, thick, strong and intimidating Jozie, was stalking up to where Sybil stood, coming to the rescue of poor beleaguered Anna who likely ignored everything Sybil had said. Jozie and Sybil would probably argue. They always did, though they always managed to come out of the argument as friends.

Then there was Cybaline, old and crotchety but still full of wry humor, and Angela, whose name belied her manners. Eve, slim, cultured and svelte, nonchalantly smoked a cigarette and chatted with the other two, black-gloved hand waving languidly this way and that.

Corissa was picking at a small spot on the rug (floor?), knees tucked up to her chin and oblivious to the rest of the room. Tilly had gone away some time before.

Polly slept, elsewhere. Polly always slept. Polly had been the first one here, since no one could remember a time before the little girl came. But then the Windows had shown some really Bad Things. An ugly, sweaty man began to appear, his face filling the Window's frames, just leering at first but coming more and more often. Jozie said that it wasn't long before the leering man would come really near, nose and mouth pressed nauseatingly close or a stubbly cheek and hairy shoulder bobbing into and out of view. The tall girl had come shortly after these episodes had started, comforting Polly when the little girl, even younger than Anna at that time, started running to this Room to hide.

She tipped her teacup in yet another sip. After that, Anna appeared, then Angela, then Corissa, until, one by one, everyone had come. She had been the last. Polly had been spending more and more time away, then, afraid of the man. Everyone else had agreed to keep watch at the Windows, guarding Polly against the return of the man as best they could. It had been a long, long time since he had last shown though. There had been a lot of noise and confusion behind the Windows then, lots of people wearing blue or black suits had shown up and taken the ugly man away, Eve said.

Ah, yes. The Windows. Always there, two large, square and crystal clear Windows stood side by side, taking up one wall of the Room. When the others weren't talking or arguing or playing, they would be standing, or sitting, near the Windows, watching what happened beyond them. The scenery on the other side of the Windows always changed. Sometimes they would reveal a city street, the buildings and cars and waves of people slowly scrolling by. Other times, they would display the inside of one or another of the buildings. On even rarer occasions, it would be a beautiful park, or even a country-side, Mother Nature showing off the charms of one of the four seasons.

Often, strange people would appear in the Windows, their mouths moving as if they spoke, but no one could hear what they said. She never paid much attention to the people that showed up. They blocked off a perfectly good view of everything else, as far as she was concerned.

Right now, the Windows were showing one of the infrequent, beautiful, park-type places. There wasn't much color out there, a heavy layer of silver and white coating everything living. The sidewalk and road were a damp and dull dark gray, a few scattered splotches of crystalline silver here and there. The sky was uniformly slate colored. Every so often, a white mist puffed up in front of the Windows.

Apparently, it was now winter on the other side of the Windows, an ice storm having gilded the colors from the world. It had been a while since she last looked through them. Last time, it had been starting in on summer, if the brightness of the flowers and the scanty dress of the random passers-by were any clue.
She set down her teacup. It had been empty for some time now, if, indeed, it had ever been full. She stood and moved in front of the clear pane that separated her from the other world.

Movement beyond the Windows had stopped. A well-traveled ice-glazed dirt path stretched ahead. Leafless trees glittered close by either side. The landscape started moving again, slowly, shaking back and forth as it moved along the iced trail in a very wobbly way. Progress was halting, since the path did angle upwards. The slow travel, however infuriating, led to a wonderful revelation.

Color. Only one color, but it was there, strikingly obvious in the beautiful yet drear view from the Windows. A small lake sat in the basin at the bottom of the hill, ice fringed its shores but the center still somehow managed to glisten a deep, lovely shade of blue.

Breath catching at the sheer, simple beauty of it all, she unconsciously raised a hand to touch the familiar warm smoothness of the Window.

The blue pond moved slightly closer, but then abruptly jerked to the side, then up, then on some crazy diagonal. She didn't know why, but the wild jerking of the scenery beyond the Windows affected her as well. It had never done that before. An arm flailed up into the Windows' field of vision, fingernails painted violet flashing in the dim light, and the lake made one last swing downward. Slate gray replaced its blue, and she fell forward crashing into the Window and darkness.

---

She hurt, especially her head. It was an unfamiliar sensation.

Her eyes were closed, she realized, so she opened them. The ceiling was also unfamiliar, white and sterile. There was no noise either.

Groaning softly, she tried to bring a hand up to cradle the throb radiating from the back of her skull, but her arm wouldn't raise that far. She stared at it dazedly, wondering where the yellow plastic bracelet had come from and why her nails were violet.

"You're awake!" The exclamation caught her by surprise and she turned around quickly to see who had said it. The ache at the back of her head intensified immediately.

"Careful," the voice turned out to belong to a man, "Your skull isn't broken but you still knocked your brain around something awful. That was a really nasty slip you took." Concerned hazel eyes stared at her out of a square face with short black hair and a hatchet nose. She had absolutely no idea who he was. He apparently thought he knew who she was, though, since he showed no hesitation in fussing over her, plumping the pillows and setting them so that she could sit upright.

"There. Is that better?"

She noted something other than concerned kindness in his voice, but what was it? She ignored his question, "Who are you?" she asked.

The poleaxed look on his face made her shrink back until she felt solidity through the squishy pillows. She hadn't seen so much emotion on a face before.

"I'm Steve. Steve Baker, your friend. Don't you remember when I came to help you three months ago?"
None of this man's words made sense to her. She shook her head.

Stunned disbelief gave grudging way to despair behind his eyes, "Do you remember your name?"

"Name?" She didn't think she had one. Everyone else in the Room had taken names but she had never bothered with one. No one had talked with her much. When they did, they had walked over to where she was, making it clear to whom they were speaking. She shook her head again, noting gratefully that the motion didn't send shockwaves of pain through her head.

"Matilda Owens."

"Ma-tih-lu-da," she rolled the name around in her mouth, saying it a few times, as much to get used to speaking again as to hear the name. It didn't feel right, though. It felt like it belonged to someone else.
Steve sighed heavily, but his shock seemed to be wearing off.

She caught sight of movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to find another man there. This one wore a long white coat as sterile looking as the ceiling and had a slim brown folder tucked under one arm. His face and expressions had an air of falsity to them, as if they were masks he wore from time to time.

"I see you're finally awake, Ms. Owens." She almost looked around to see who he was talking to when she remembered that she was supposed to be this 'Ms. Owens'. Then she promptly turned pink in the cheeks. She wasn't accustomed to being the center of attention of more than one person at a time.

"How do you feel?" The doctor had a voice that sounded as superficial as his appearance.

"My head hurts."

"Do you feel any nausea? Dizziness?"

"No. It just hurts."

"Ah. Well it's very likely that you have gotten over your concussion. You are very lucky that you didn't fracture your skull."

"Uhm.. Dr. Kole?" Steve spoke up, "Could I have a word with you?"

"Certainly. What is it you want to talk about?" He obligingly let Steve pull him a short distance away. She had to strain to hear what they were saying. As it was, she could only pick out a few words, "... always been... slow... touched in the head... that fall... amnesia."

Dr. Kole's face darkened the longer Steve spoke and he cast one or two glances her direction that again made her shrink back into the pillows. He looked at her as if he thought her an interesting specimen that had just sprouted another appendage. Opening up the folder he carried, the two men scanned the small sheaf of papers inside. Dr. Kole looked puzzled for a moment, pointing towards some of the papers. Steve shrugged and started speaking again. "… showed up…three months… can't find other….low IQ… no problems… routine physical…"

Nodding at Steve a couple times, the doctor came back towards her, pulling up the chair the other man had been using earlier and setting it close to the bed. His fake concerned face was on again, though this time his smile made no pretenses at reaching his eyes. Steve hovered nervously behind him, wringing his hands. She decided then that she didn't like the doctor and his masks. Everyone in the Room had been more open and honest, they didn't hide behind lies. Their presences comforted her. The doctor didn't make her feel comfortable at all. It was almost as if he wasn't there.

"Ms. Owens, do you know how to tie your shoe?"

That was a silly question, "Yes, of course I do."

"What's that?" He pointed at the television set on the wall.

"A television." Now she was confused. Where was the point of these questions?

"Could you tell me what your middle name is?"

"What?" His question surprised her.

"Your middle name. Do you remember it?"

"I have a middle name?"

"Do you remember when your birthday is?"

"...no."

Whatever their point, her answers obviously satisfied Dr. Kole since he humphed once and leaned back in the chair, "Ms. Owens, your fall apparently did more damage than I had previously thought. Since you still remember physical activities and things, but don't remember personal things like your own full name, you may have temporary amnesia. I would like you to stay here for another night, for further observation and on the chance that your memories will come back to you of their own accord."

What? Her memories weren't gone. She still remembered everything about the Room and Polly and Sybil and Eve and everyone else there. She remembered all the things that she had watched through the Windows. The only thing she didn't remember was how she got here.

"A nurse will be by shortly with your dinner then, Ms. Owens. Mr. Baker?" The doctor stood and gave Steve a pointed look.

"Ah..yeah. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon Matti. Try to remember, okay?" Both men departed, leaving her alone in the room.

---

Time passed too slowly here, she decided. Wherever 'here' was, anyway. All that she could tell was that she had somehow managed to get onto the other side of the Windows. Things were too sharp and unyielding here. There was no soft haze to mitigate the harshness of this reality.

Back in the Room, there had always been something interesting to watch or listen to, Jozie and Sybil's latest argument, Cybaline's wry observations, or whatever happened to be going on outside the Windows. Here, only her own thoughts entertained her, mostly since she hadn't found the remote to turn on the television.

The creak of the door's opening nearly made her jump out of her skin. A buxom, brown-haired woman in a white dress with white sneakers walked into the room, a tray in her hands. She was probably the nurse Dr. Kole had mentioned.

"Good evening, Ms. Owens!" The woman radiated cheeriness. Probably to cover up how forced it was, she supposed. "And how are you feeling?"

"Fine." Her head had stopped aching a little while ago, though it did still throb every now and again when she moved too quickly.

"That's good! Well, I've brought you some French onion soup, green beans and rolls for dinner. Just leave your tray on the table here when you're done and I'll pick it up in two hours when I come to help you with your bath." The brunette set the white plastic tray across her lap, fussing with it until it stayed steady on the rumpled blankets. "There you go! Enjoy!" Happiness rolling off her in nearly palpable waves, the nurse flounced out of the room, taking that suffocating cloud of cheer along.

Sighing, she turned to look at the food set before her. She didn't really feel like eating, but an uncomfortable rumble roiled her midsection. It took a minute before she finally realized that it was probably hunger she felt. She'd never actually been hungry before, she'd just had tea or snacks whenever she felt like eating while she was in the Room. It was an interesting sensation, though one she didn't want to feel again any time soon. So, she picked up the plastic white spoon and dragged the bowl of soup to the front of her tray.

She looked down into it, and blinked. Then blinked again. Tilly's face stared back at her from the brown liquid. At least she thought it was Tilly's face. The image was somewhat distorted so it could have been Angela's, those two looked awfully alike. It might even have been Anna's, but it looked too grown up.

"Tilly? Is that you?" she asked. Tilly's mouth moved, but she could hear no words. "When did you come back, Tilly? Where am I?" she dropped the spoon from inattentive fingers and it plished into the bowl, shattering Tilly's face. She continued to call for a couple of minutes, but Tilly didn't come back. Shoulders slumping, she ate her dinner unenthusiastically, then stared at the ceiling until the bouncy nurse came back.

The opening of the door didn't surprise her as much when the nurse returned and immediately launched into a long monologue about nothing. Chattering the whole time, the nurse helped her learn to walk after being prone for who knew how many hours, then led her into the white porcelain bathtub in the next room.

As it turned out, the next room contained only the stark white tub and a small sink of the same white color that seemed ubiquitous in this place. Hence, the room was almost claustrophobically small.

Hot water swirled around her ankles and bottom, the intense sensations again surprising her. Everything in the Room had felt muted, compared to here. This particular sensation was pleasant, however. Fortunately, the talkative nurse left her alone after the water had been started, telling her to take as much time as she needed. She let the water fill the tub until it reached the second drain set in the wall of the tub, then sank down until it lapped at her chin. In the Room she'd never needed to take baths, but she could certainly get used to them if they were all as nice as this one.

After letting her mind drift for a few blissful moments, she sat back up and grabbed the slippery soap, beginning to wash. She leaned forward so she could maneuver an arm for better lathering. That's when she caught sight of Corissa staring out at her from the chrome of the tub's faucet. Or was it Eve? She couldn't see the hair too well, which was pretty much the only way to differentiate physically between those two women. She thought it was Corissa. Either way, the mouth was pulled slightly downward in a frown, as it always was for either woman, soulful eyes looking both at and through you.

"Corissa?" She didn't see the other woman's mouth move. It wasn't too surprising though, since shy Corissa often chose not to reply to even the second and third queries.

"Corissa? Corissa, please answer me! Do you know where I am? Does anyone There know who I'm supposed to be?"

Her words echoed hollowly in the bathroom, unanswered, the only sound besides the soft lap of the tub water. The emptiness of even that small space fell in on her in a breath-taking rush, suffocating her with her loneliness.

"Corissa! Please help me!!" A small tear leaked out of one eye.

The door to the bathroom banged open and the nurse, for once not cheerful at all, rushed in, "What is it? What's wrong?" She ignored the intrusion, staring intently at the silent woman behind the faucet's silver.

"Please!! Corissa, I want to go home!!"

"I'm over here, Ms. Owens. Corissa is right here," the brown-haired nurse grabbed her shoulders and twisted her away from the familiar face to an unfamiliar one, "I'm sure you can go back home tomorrow, Ms. Owens. You needn't take it out on the spigot." She calmed down slowly, embarrassed by the display. She didn't have the courage to tell the nurse that she had been calling for someone else named Corissa.

"There, there, Ms. Owens. Everything will be okay." The woman in white held her in a patronizing fashion, distant despite the closeness of their bodies. Much more distant than before, she noted. And there was a hint of something (fear?) in the nurse's eyes. She wondered what could have caused that.

Shortly, the nurse helped her out of the bathtub, dried her and dressed her, then followed her back into the room she had come from. She was tucked into bed, the tray cleared and the lights turned out with almost unseemly haste, as if the woman was trying to get away from something diseased. The cloud of cheer that surrounded the brunette didn't come back, though she tried to make it look like it did. But somehow a fakery of something fake didn't work. Loneliness panged again. She decided she didn't care for the nurse either. Just like the doctor, that woman hid herself behind lies and masks, not saying or showing what she felt.

She didn't have long to ponder the implications of that, however, as unconsciousness washed over her and again pulled her into blackness.

---

Stiffness greeted her with the new day, as did the unfamiliar ceiling and room. It took a moment before she realized where she was; then the loneliness struck again. Before, when she had lived inside the Room, there was always someone else there. One, two or even three of the others may have gone away, but never had she been without the company of several more people. Even the Room itself radiated a gentle awareness, as if it itself was a living thing. Here, there was just the dead white walls and ceiling, the sterile white-clad doctor and nurse who both wore false, flat masks that made them seem like they weren't there. Steve was a bit of an enigma, though. She actually wanted to see him again, so that she could see if he, at least, was a real person.

She didn't know how long she waited. She'd already assessed the room in detail-white walls, white floor, white ceiling. The only contrasts were the blank, black television which hung from a corner of the ceiling, a small battered table and an old green chair pulled up beside the bed. One wall was obscured by curtains, behind which lay who knew what. She could not hold off her curiosity for long, though. Tottering onto her feet, sore muscles protesting, she managed to stagger over to the drapes. Discovering how to open them was a trial, but she stood more steadily by the time she pulled them back.

Windows.

They weren't as flawlessly clear as the ones she was used to, but they were there, providing a small, but welcome, feel of the Room. Home. Two Window panes right next to each other, looked out onto a scene of chaos. She took the time to drag the drab green chair to where she could sit in it and take in all of what happened.

She was in a city, she discovered from the view offered by these Windows. Tall buildings of drab gray crowded close, standing out in stark, harsh relief against a blue sky so vivid it made her eyes water. A single strip of street crossed the Windows' view, a never stopping flow of people and vehicles rushing along it. Motion and color clashed together in one brutal mass. The view didn't change in these windows as often, but it whiled away the time until Dr. Kole and Steve came back. Steve carried another of those plastic trays, this one holding a few buns, a donut and a steaming cup of something. His face looked pathetically hopeful while the doctor's was again a façade of optimism.

"Good morning, Ms. Owens. Have you regained any of your memories?"

Steve set the tray on her lap, and she decided to be honest, "I never lost them."

"Oh?"

"Really? Do you remember me now?" Relief scribbled itself across Steve's face.

"No." She gamely took a sip of whatever black liquid it was in the cup, then promptly spat the disgustingly bitter stuff out.

"No?! Why not? And I thought you liked your coffee black." He seemed about to continue, but Dr. Kole interrupted him, "I heard about last night when you called out to Corissa, the nurse assigned to you, about wanting to go home. You most certainly may. Your physical injuries have essentially healed, and seeing some of the places where you lived may help bring about some of your lost memories."

Didn't he hear her? She'd plainly said that she hadn't lost any memories. And she hadn't been calling for the nurse. She'd been trying to get Corissa to talk to her. She'd have to scold Corissa when she got back to the Room.

"Corissa will bring your clothes in shortly. You can change and go. Mr. Baker, if you would come with me to fill out the Out-Patient forms, please?"

Both men once again left the room. She didn't let it bother her, turning back to her people-watching, distractedly eating the rolls and donut even though their tastes were very sharp. She didn't notice when the nurse came in and deposited her clothes on the bed; she only heard the door close. She took the time to quickly don the plain purple sweater, blue jeans and high top black sneakers, then returned to watching again. It was the only thing that comforted her in this uncomfortably focused world. Everything else, even the doctor and the nurse she'd seen, felt too hollow or walled off.

Dr. Kole came back with Steve in tow not too much later.

"Everything is set, Ms. Owens. You can go home now. However, I would like you to come in for a routine checkup once a week for so we can see how your recovery progresses. Mr. Baker will stay with you, and a friend of mine, Dr. Ferris, will stop by to talk to you and keep you company. Is that okay?"

She had no idea how they were planning to get her back to the Room, but if Steve and this Dr. Ferris wanted to come along, the others probably wouldn't mind too much, so she just nodded.

Later, Dr. Kole waved at them with a little of the nurse's cheeriness as two sets of Window-like doors shooshed open for them, and she waved back tentatively. Thankfully, Steve took the lead. The second pair of those window-doors passed by her and she stepped out again onto the other side of Windows.

Noise. Lots and lots of loud noise. She squeaked and nearly plastered herself against Steve's back.
"It's okay, Matti," He was trying to sound sincere, she could tell that much, but something else lurked in his voice. Nervousness? If he was nervous, she was paranoid.

She stayed no more than one pace behind him as he dived into a horde of people and started making his way in a direction. The seemingly endless mobs of people flowed around them, going in all directions. She was surrounded by them. But none of them looked at her, noticed her. They all went along as if in their own worlds, ignoring everyone else. They all wore masks for faces, like the doctor and nurse had. Though hundreds of people surrounded her, she felt completely alone. No one's presence reached out to her like they did in the Room. She didn't feel like she belonged, she wasn't a part of anything here. No one cared. Not Dr. Kole, not the nurse, not anyone on this street. They all hid behind their faces, or ignored everything. She was alone.

Except for Steve. Maybe. He was still walking forward, and she was still no more than one pace behind. She didn't know how far they had gone, but the scenery hadn't changed appreciably. She studied his back for lack of anything else to look at. He was about half a head taller than she, of medium build. He wore jeans that had seen better days, a jacket of some slightly shimmery yellow material and worn out tennis shoes. Compared to the masses of passers-by, he was rather conservative in appearance. She needed to see his face though. She hadn't looked at it well enough before.

They still weren't to wherever they were supposed to go, so, depressed, she settled into the dull rhythm of the walk, not even bothering to take in the sights around her. They all blurred into the same thing anyway.
Eventually, something caught her attention from the corner of her eye. She stared at the panel of wavy glass. It was a large rectangle, and it had some writing on it, but she didn't pay attention to that. Jozie's face gazed back at her from behind it.

"Jozie? Can you help me Jozie? You've always been a help to everyone." Her voice was a little whiny, but she was beginning to get desperate. The sheer superfluity and emptiness of this world was starting to make her loneliness unbearable. "Can you come get me Jozie? Please? I want to go home!" The other woman seemed to be trying to talk while she was, though she couldn't hear what was said. "Help me Jozie! Come and take me back. I don't want to be here any more!" She pounded a fist against the glass, trying to break through the barrier separating her from Jozie. The other woman glared back at her, unspeaking.

"Hey! Hey! Matti, stop that! Who are you talking to? There's no one there, that store's closed!" Steve grabbed her roughly from behind, spinning her away from Jozie. "What were you doing? No one is there!"

He didn't see Jozie? She was right there. "I was talking to Jozie. Can't you see her?" She pointed.

Steve looked, then paled. "That's just your reflection, Matti. There's no person there."

Reflection? "That can't be right. She was just talking to me, but I couldn't hear her."

Steve paled even further, and there was a slight quiver to his voice, "Please don't do this Matti. There is no one behind that glass. It is an empty shop."

She got a good look into his eyes as he pleaded. Fear, despair, a little revulsion were there, and.. distance. She didn't see any compassion or understanding in those eyes.

Steve didn't care. He had walled himself off from her as well. She was alone. Utterly.

"Come on Matti. There's nothing there." Reluctantly, she allowed herself to be led away. She didn't know how long they continued to walk, or where they went. She didn't really care anymore. She just wanted to get home, but somehow she doubted Steve was taking her where she wanted to go.

They finally stopped in front of a dull red brick building with a faded gray door. A woman, petite-bodied with short and straight black hair, stood outside. Probably Dr. Ferris. She didn't pay attention to the conversation held with Steve, nor to the hallway and flight of stairs they walked up, nor to the apartment they eventually entered.

Steve muttered something of an excuse to step outside, leaving her alone with the black haired doctor.

"You must be Matti Owens, right?" The doctor's voice was soothing. It made a little bit of the loneliness go away.

"I guess so." She looked up and around for the first time, "This isn't home. They said they'd take me home." Somehow, she wasn't surprised about that.

"It isn't? Then where is home?" Dr. Ferris sounded sincerely interested. She perked up a little more, enough to look the doctor in the face. Oval and pale with almond eyes, it looked like a soft face. She couldn't tell if there was anything hidden yet, though. She decided to be honest. That had proven to scare everyone else into revealing their masks before, so maybe it would work this time, "In the Room."

"Oh? What's this room like?"

"Well…" She proceeded to tell Dr. Ferris everything about the Room and everyone that was in it. She almost couldn't help telling it all, the slim doctor appeared so interested and had such a soft voice. It was almost a relief to get it all out.

At the end of the tale, Dr. Ferris stood and excused herself for some air. They'd been sitting for quite some time. There was something about the way the excuse was said that roused some defensive instinct in her, the persuasiveness of the voice had slipped for just a second, and she thought she had picked up a hint of some other motive, something hidden.

The doctor stopped just beyond the door, where Steve had probably been for the entire time. She let the door close before going up to it and pressing her ear against it to eavesdrop. She heard the conversation clearly.

"Please tell me you can deal with her. I can't. I was sent to take care of a mentally retarded woman, not an insane one."

"Well, you are relieved of any social work you had concerning Matilda Owens." The doctor's voice lost all of its soft qualities, going completely neutral, "It's fairly clear to me that the woman on the other side of this door isn't Matilda Owens, but another alter, or personality, entirely."

"Another.. personality?"

"Yes. She has Dissociative Personality Disorder. Multiple personalities, if you will. From what I gathered when I talked with her, there are at least another seven, maybe eight."

"Oh God. I never knew. Are you going to take her?"

"No. I'll have some orderlies come by and pick her up later today. Do you think you could watch her for an hour or two?"

"I guess so. How should I act?"

The rest of the conversation dwindled into nothingness as she ceased paying attention. She really was alone. Steve didn't care, Dr. Ferris didn't really care. No one did. She wanted to go home, back to the Room where everyone cared and she was never alone.

Listlessly, she turned and shuffled into the apartment. The door opened and closed behind her and someone asked her something, she just grunted in reply. Steve sat down on a couch to the side and started talking to her. He asked about her past and the other places she had been. She didn't answer. He was too late. She knew that he wore a mask and didn't honestly care.

He started talking about something else, his own childhood, but she just stood there. If the people here walled themselves off from others, she would do the same until she could get home.

Steve stopped talking. He'd asked another question, did she want something to drink? No. He got up anyway, and walked to another room. She left that room too, but in another direction. She didn't want to talk to Steve any more.

The new room was smaller, with chairs, a desk and a bed. Something glinted in the corner of her eye. It wasn't a Window, but a mirror, set in a stand slightly out from the wall. She stared dazedly at what she saw there-- Jozie's square face with Sybil's frazzled brown hair, Angela's hooked nose and Corissa's soulful eyes. Cybaline's stout body with Anna's pudgy hands moved closer to the mirror. If she looked hard enough, she could pick out some features of everyone in the Room there in that reflection. Was that her? Was that what she really looked like?

Steve came into the room, two cups in hand. He started to set them down on the desk, but stopped and exclaimed. Turning around, he apologized and left again. He' d forgotten the coasters.

The sensation of cool rippled up from her fingertips and she realized she was touching the mirror. She moved closer, inspecting every minute detail; jaw, lips, teeth, cheeks, nose, eyes….

She blinked, then looked into her own eyes again and saw…

…a hazy big (little?) room with tan colored (peach?) walls and a dark floor.

Home.

She reached her hands towards the wonderfully welcome vision, the loneliness evaporating, until her knuckles hit the cool glass.

Frustration.

She hit at it, but the glass didn't budge. The Room's indistinct warmth still beckoned, slightly more visible now.

Frustration/Anger.

She hit harder, faster. Still no give. There were some people watching from the Windows, her eyes, she couldn't tell who.

Frustration/Anger

LETMEIN!!

She balled her hand up into a fist and slammed the bedamned barricading glass with all her might. The mirror shattered, her fist punching though it almost up to her elbow, and her face fell to pieces. Fire blazed up her arm for a moment, but settled into a comfortable, wet warmth, similar to the wet flowing down her face, but stickier.

Steve came barreling into the room at the commotion, shouting. She didn't look at him. She wanted to find her face. He left just as quickly, still shouting but this time not at her.

Dropping to her knees among the shards, she looked down, trying to find where the Room had gone. Everyone looked back up at her, their faces smiling, beckoning; Anna, Sybil, Jozie, Angela, Eve, Cybaline, Corissa, and one other girl, one she didn't really recognize. The girl was very young, even younger than Anna, but in her eyes was a wisdom beyond even old Cybaline's.

Steve rushed back into the room, arms full of towels. He promptly began wrapping them around her arm. He tried to get her to stand, but she wouldn't. More people rushed into the room. People she didn't know. They were dressed in white, though, so she knew to ignore them.

She was getting cold. Dizzy, too, so she laid down on the glass, small firesparks pricking her here and there.

She picked up the shard the girl, Polly, stood behind and clutched it in her slowly numbing hand. They both smiled.

She had found her way home.

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