Drop, drop, drop, pling… drop, drop, drop, pling…. It’s just the rain. Drop, drop, drop, pling….

She sat alone in the dark; her hair matted and dirty falls in her face, hiding her. The heavy plod of men’s feet goes past the locked and bolted door. No human voice is heard, just screams, wails and tears.

Her door opens, she does not move. It is as if she does not notice, her eyes play tricks all the time. A man enters; he is clad in white, dazzling in the dark and dirty place. He is followed by a young woman, dressed in white the same as him.

“623,” he says, “623, can you hear me?” Silence.

“623,” the white lady says, “623, do you know where you are?” Her voice is soft, like a mother’s loving touch, and full of compassion. The silent one starts to cry, her voice joins the never ending song of sorrow.

“Give it up,” the man says. “What good can you do her? She is mad, dieing and dirty. There is nothing left, no memory beyond this place. She is worthless, there is nothing left.”

Now the lady is crying too, the silent one reaches out to touch the lady’s face. The lady does not move, it is the first time 623 has reacted to anything.

“Maa th,” she says, “Maath!” She crawls toward the white lady and clings to her. The unfortunate creature’s humanness coming back, like a lost child she grasps at the lady.

“Maath, I, I, I sorry!” She wails, “t-take home, take home. Be good.”

“Shh, shh,” whispers the lady as she holds the girl, rocking her back and forth, “shh.” She does not care that she is no longer shining white, that she has been touched by the dirt, and slime.

“We must go.” The man’s order cuts through the peace shredding it like tissue paper. “Our time has come to an end.”

“What?!” the lady hisses, “we have made a breakthrough; she is making contact, coming back to reality. Maybe we could find out who she is, where she’s from and get her out of this awful place.”

The man looks down at them both, the lady is no longer the dazzling white, she is grey, the girl clings to her silent.

“I am sorry,” he says, “You should not have come with me….” His fist swings into the side of her head, she groans as she sinks to the floor, the mad girl still clings to her calling: “Mama! Mama!”

“Now my dear,” the man speaks in a calm and quite voice. “It is time to sleep.” He grabs her hand as she tries to crawl away, and injects her with something that makes her feel sleepy….

“Guard!” The man called. A hard looking man opened the door. “623 became violent and I had to sedate her. Take my companion to my study.” The guard obeyed leaving the man alone in the cell, 623 senseless on the ground.

623 was dreaming, she was far away from the damp cold horror she was clean, dressed, full and warm. Someone was singing, calling her name….

“Hello 623,” a voice woke her. “You are becoming more trouble then you are worth.” 623 was strapped in a chair, why did this feel familiar… the man stood next to her, he wore gloves. “We must make sure you have no further setbacks.” 623 struggles in her bonds, some instinct telling her to flee, her head is thick she must still be dreaming now a prick in her arm and the fight drains away, the mindless despair floods in again.

Drop, drop, drop, pling… drop, drop, drop, pling…. It’s just the rain. Drop, drop, drop, pling….

She wakes; the room feels familiar as strange. She has been her before, but not like this, not like this. She sits and tries to sort her whirling thoughts. The darkness, the smells, the feel of the dirt and filth under the straw.

The heavy sound of men’s footsteps comes closer, closer. The lock slides and the chorus of wails fills the room as a man dressed in glowing white enters the room. His clod and dark eyes look on her with disguest.

“749,” his voice cuts through her thoughts like a knife, “749, do you know where you are?”

She screams and screams and screams. A high descant to the never ending chorus.

Drop… drop…drop… pling. Drop… drop…drop… pling. Shh, it’s just the rain. Drop… drop… pling.