The window is fixed again.

When I last passed through this hallway this very window was smashed. Glass shards littered the wooden floor and reflected beautiful flashes of moonlight. I'm sure the one who broke the window felt like that were walking the diamond road of victory, until their blood painted this victory road red.

But here it is.

Just as it looked before.

The window is fixed again.

I rest my hand against the cold glass, searching for cracks. I find none. It isn't a surprise to me, as this house has a way of mending all of the things broken. If 'mending' is the word, anyway. Maybe the term I'm looking for isn't 'mending'.

The floor boards creak under someone's weight. I hear the heavy shoes of that boy as he comes my way. I hear the ticking of a clock, teasing me with the passing of time.

Mending... no, this house isn't a miracle house that mends the broken, is it? After all, though it collects broken people it has never once fixed any of them.

His face reflects in the window I'm staring at. Those eyes have lost their glow. More than ever, they look tired and dead.

They match the death that is spattered all across the nice suit we sewed together.

"You won then? Congratulations." I speak up, but I don't bother turning. He doesn't move or speak, but I understand his thoughts.

No way, nope nope. This house isn't mending people.

It's breaking them.

It people who can just barely function as "humans" and then crushes them beyond repair.

Everything here exists to be broken, not repaired.

I slide my fingers down the window. Not mended. This window was never mended. The first window was broken, then discarded and replaced. Things don't get repaired here. They get replaced, so we can break them again.

"What a shame..." My sigh fogs the window, "No one else got to see these pretty new windows."