Alice Montgomery, January 1st 1995
Can they not see I will not sleep? Not with that ugly florescent bulb glaring above me. But I cannot tell them that myself, and I sure cannot remove the light myself. Wailing has no effect; Mummy gets upset and Daddy thinks I've filled my scratchy movement hinderer. They call it a... nappy. I want to be in darkness, to be reminded of the blissful place I was ripped from. That place was always warm, always quiet, always safe. Nothing but a gentle hum of noise, and peace. And darkness. No piercing beams of light burning my eyes, only a cocoon of serenity. I just want a mask of the wonderful I was dragged from. A hallucination, a facade, a dream, a temporary replacement of my paradise. Even the walls in this massive, hideous room were a garish yellow, reflecting the light even more. The brightness made it impossible to sleep, impossible to pretend.
"She wont sleep, Brian, but she isn't unhappy," my mummy murmured to the dark, handsome man beside her. I turned my scrawny, minute head towards them, trying to engage them with my eyes, trying to convey through the mossy orbs what I could not with my voice, to explain why I could not sleep. "Look at our little darling, so beautiful, so… elegant, so quiet. We are so lucky to not have a screamer," the man chuckled, a low, throaty sound that rumbled through his chest. It was music to my tired ears. "But she does need to sleep. I just don't know what to do." It was no use; they could not comprehend me. I was new to them. I closed my eyes, and imagined with a longing I could not describe, my home…