“I’ve been seeing things, Doc.” 

The words tumbled from my chapped lips, spoken by a voice that was not my own. Not anymore. “I’ve been seeing some bad things.”

“Can you describe these things for me? What do you think they are? Hallucinations? Apparitions? Visions?” White Coat asked. My mind was buzzing, information and thoughts tumbling in my head like a hurricane, crashing against the walls of my skull. A small whimper of pain left my lips as memories revealed themselves. My hands twitched in front of me as I tried to focus. White Coat became more alert in case I went into shock again. 

“Breathe in, breathe out,” Doc instructed over and over again. By now, the words had been branded into my brain as if I were cattle. I focused on the color of their jackets. White. A symbol of purity, cleanliness. It’s fitting because that’s exactly what white is: the absence of all color. The absence of all uniqueness. There are many shades of red, green, and purple, but only one shade of white. “Look at me,” they commanded with stern, cold voices, “Are you calm? Can we continue?” I nodded, non-verbally telling a blatant lie.

I’d never been calm. Well, once, maybe. We cry when we’re born because we’re no longer protected by our mother’s womb. We’re now alone. I didn’t cry.

That was the sanest moment of my life.

“Yes.” I wondered if my fear was shown through my tone. Was I
shaking? I couldn’t tell, my vision was hazy.

“You were talking about your visions. Can you explain one to me?” Tap-tap-tap filled the white noise as they rapped their pens against the poor notebooks resting on their bouncing, twitching knees. I swallowed, feeling the vibrations from the movement churn throughout my body.

“I was lying in bed, about to go to sleep. My window was across the room, and when I looked out, I saw a figure with razor sharp claws and teeth. I tried closing my eyes and forgetting about it, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was there. When I opened my eyes again, it looked like it was sitting in a chair across from me. I could practically feel the bitter cold surrounding it. The only thing I could see was the solid white of its eyes against the darkness.” The sound of pen writing on paper filled the void; the pen’s dark ink tainted the purity of the sheet.

“It sounds like a nightmare,” the white coat said, but my mind wasn’t listening. Something about the figure seemed so much more real than a vision. I could feel it drinking the fear from my body, feeding from it. The cold air that surrounded its presence, the tap-tap-tap on the window. But I didn’t say any of that.

“Maybe you’re right,” I concluded, making them smile in satisfaction. “Maybe I’m just a little … crazy.” They took my hand and helped me up, the broad smile not leaving their tight faces.

White Coat led me to the door and opened it, leading me into the hallway. “Aren’t we all just a little mad?” And I swear. I swear I saw the pupils in his eyes disappear, leaving only white.