I could see the ocean from my room, if I stood on my tip-toes and lifted myself up towards the dirty window. Looking past my reflection and past the stone walls I could see the beach. The blue water licked away at the sand and chased away the seagulls when ever they seemed to appear. I had been to the ocean many years ago, before my mother and father sent me away. I don't remember much of it but the sound of the roaring waves can be heard at night, ever so softly calling to me.

The sound of the metal door unlocking and slowly creaking open caused me to look away from the blue sea and sent me turning violently to see who was coming. A blond haired woman appeared, dressed in a white nurse's dress and carrying a folder and clipboard; her azure eyes looked me over before a soft smile crossed her sun kissed face. I smiled in return and could only wonder how I looked in that woman's mind. My skin was all too fair because my parents neglected to let me run in the yard and my midnight hair was knotted and ratty from a few days with out a bath.

"How are you doing today, Lilly?" she asked. Her voice seemed to echo in my mind; I didn't answer. I watched as she closed the door, never turning her back to me and her eyes never leaving mine. "What were you doing?"

I turned my attention back to the window. Gingerly I stood on my tip- toes, my hands grasping at the windowsill so I could hoist myself up. "I can see the ocean." I whispered. "Sometimes I can hear it at night; it talks to me. I heard it sing to me once, trying to keep the noises out."

"What noises, Lilly?" the nurse asked.

"The screaming." I replied. Letting go of the windowsill I regained my footing and moved over to the ratty mattress I called a bed. "I can't sleep at night when they scream; I get scared." Slowly I lowered myself onto the tattered bed, running my fingers across the dirt ridden sheets. "Sometimes I can hear them talk to me through the walls. I know I shouldn't hear them, but I do and I listen; they tell me horrible stories."

The nurse smiled softly; I had the feeling she was ignoring what I said. I heard the door creak open slowly. I leaned to my right, peering around the nurse as I tried to see who was entering. At first all I could see was a well groomed hand. I was frightened to see who lay behind that wrist, my mind spinning with frightening images. My body shook slightly; I didn't know what was happening. I had the urge to scream and curl up in the farthest reaches of the dusty room, but a soft voice whispered in my mind and told me to be calm.

A man suddenly stepped in to the room. He was a well groomed person, dirty blond hair brushed back and lightly tanned skin from working in the sun. His eyes, though, didn't seem to match him. Those orbs looked like the color of mud, rimmed with a deep green that seemed to melt into that earthy tone. When they blinked and looked into my own eyes I could see a sadness etched in them; he didn't like what he did. He wasn't proud of his job; he hated seeing people locked away like animal and writhing in pain when the orderlies would shoot electricity through their frail bodies.

I smiled at the man. Those eyes widened slightly and he faltered in his step; he didn't expect this. He didn't make the effort to smile back, all he did was clear his throat and take the nurse's clipboard. They whispered to each other, the man's eyes turning towards me every few seconds. Still, I smiled at him; it made him uneasy I suppose but I knew that beneath those sad eyes were ones filled with forgotten joy.

"I see your name is Lilly." the man said, turning his attention away from the nurse. Even as he said this there wasn't a single smile forming across his lips. "I take it your mother loved flowers?"

"Mother had a garden." I replied in a soft voice. I looked down at my dirty hands, my fingers fidgeting with each other. "She and father grew fruits and vegetables and flowers in their garden; mother loved the flowers the most. She wanted to name my little sister Rose, but she wasn't able to."

The man cocked an eyebrow. Slowly he stepped deeper into this dank room, one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around the clipboard. His eyes studied me, taking in every aspect of my tiny being down to the dirt beneath my nails. He didn't touch me, though; his eyes just looked me over so he didn't have to get too close.

"Why wasn't she able to, Lilly?" he asked softly.

I looked away from him, turning my attention back to the window as if something wringed me around by the arm. "Did you know you can see the ocean from here?" I asked. Without a sound I moved from the mattress and back to my original perch. Once more I stood on my tip-toes and raised myself up to look through the dirty glass. "I can see it over the walls. Yesterday there was a couple and their little boy out there. He liked making little castles out of the sand. He tried to keep the ocean away, but the ocean wanted his castle; it was pretty."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the man. I lowered myself from the window and looked at him. He was much taller than I was; all he had to do was stand on his tip-toes and he could see the ocean like I did. For a moment I saw a flicker of joy in his dirty eyes, but it faded as quickly as it was formed. "You like the ocean, don't you Lilly?"

I nodded. "It reminds me of home."

"You're homesick, aren't you?" he asked; our eyes met instantly.

"Yes." I replied. I tried to turn my eyes away but there was something that stopped me, this man wanted to know more. He was a doctor, not an orderly like I would have thought; I could tell that by the smell of medicine on his clothes. "Father said he'd come get me in a day or two, but he hasn't kept his promise."

The doctor sighed and I could tell his heart sank with that breath. "Lilly, do you know where you are?"

Nodding I lifted myself up to the window to watch the tide. "In a building, by the ocean. Father said I was going to a place where people can help me; mother said it was a place for the mentally ill." I looked down at the doctor, our eyes meeting instantly. Once more I saw him falter as he moved away from me. "Am I mentally ill, sir?"

**********

I was permitted to bathe. I was placed in a shallow tub of lukewarm water and a female nurse washed my hair and skin. As I sat in the waist deep water with my knees pressed against my chest, I listened to the nurse who bathed me chat with a coworker. They acted as if I was deaf and dumb, talking about just about everything no matter how sick or sexual.

I came to find out the doctor's name, Edward Goode, and that he was a well to do man but not be confused as wealthy. He lived by himself no more than a mile away from the asylum. Edward was barely twenty six and already widowed. He was married at a young age to an equally young woman. The two were married for five years and had two children. The night of Edward's twenty second birthday his wife was slain and his children stolen into the night; to this day he still hasn't found the criminal behind such a horrific act.

After the nurse was done bathing me I was allowed to dry off and dress myself in a gown worn by the female 'guests.' It was as grey as a storm cloud and seemed to be an oversized dress for a doll. The gown fit oddly on my petite frame and was nothing like the dresses I saw before I was taken here. I was given a brush, as well, to straighten my hair and a thin piece of material to tie my hair back. I wondered what I looked like and I could only imagine I was a strange sight.

I was taken back to that dank room I was to call home. It looked different now that I had wandered away from the familiar scene. There was a small heap of sheets off in a dark corner, neglected and over looked when the room was cleaned. Sitting on the bed I looked at it, letting my mind wander with thought.

Slowly curiosity and boredom got the best of my and I crept over to the dirty sheets. I sat beside the dark mass and looked it over. The sheets were old, to say the least, and seemed like they would always be a grayish white. I nudged the heap with my newly cleaned foot, sending a wave of dust fluttering into the air and a handful of moths flying from their disturbed home. With this done I took hold of the sheets and studied them; they were dirty, old, and there were small holes chewed into them by bugs.

To my enjoyment I soon found that the old material could be torn easily. Meticulously I began to rip the sheets into varied length and thickness, laying each new piece around me. I gathered a large piece of the sheet and began to section it off with the smallest strips I had. I must have been sitting in that corner for hours because when I finally completed this strange task the moon was peeking through the dirty window.

I looked down into my lap, eyeing my creation. It was a crude rag doll; its head was over stuff, one arm was longer than the other, and it didn't have legs. From the soot around me I gave the doll a set of mismatched eyes and small dot of a nose, yet I refused to give it a mouth or hair. I smiled at this poor excuse of plaything, cocking my head to one side to get a different look at it. No matter how I looked at it, though, the poor thing was still ugly.

As the darkness of the halls crept into my distained room and the freakish sounds of screaming and yelling reached my ears, I knew it was time for me to sleep. I took my odd little friend and slipped into the uncomfortable bed. Together we lay for a moment, the well worn blankets resting across my chest and my doll's. Finally I rolled over and laid a kiss on the doll's head and sighed.

"Good night, Rose." I whispered.