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The Prologue
It has been several years since they locked the brunette in the Psychiatric Ward located in Sunnydale Hospital. She was usually in a comatose state, so it never seemed to matter. On occasions, she would wake up screaming about being something they known has “the key”. The nurses just thought she was totally schizo, but why else would be there.
No one thought she would wake up so soon; her phases could go for months, years at a time. The young lady went through a brief intermission during the summer months of 2002, but soon after relapsed until day.
As she woke up, she noticed that her room was unusually bright and had this ivory-colored paint job. The brunette looked around noticing that nothing was the same, her posters, bed, and desk. They were gone, missing, somewhere else. Everything was replaced with this cell- a lumpy bed with what like to be restrains, shackles, whatever; that wasn’t the focus in her mind. Her main focus was who put me here and why the hell did I stay?
Being in this asylum for many years took its toll on her. She wasn’t what she remembered. Cuts on her wrists, on her neck, it was made clear that she tried to commit suicide a few times during her imprisonment. Today was no different.
The young, terrified girl went searching for something sharp to cut her small, fragile wrists. Finally, she used all her force and smashed the window. Glass of course. She grabbed the broken piece of glass and with that all her painful memories overwhelmed the girl with sorrow, despair, and depression. She had killed her sister, she killed Buffy. As she slashed her wrist, the copper stained blood flowed down her hands on to the perfectly water carpet. Five minutes later during one of the nurse daily rounds, she noticed blood, fresh blood. The women dropped all her things and ran with all her speed to room 319 to find an unconscious young lady with glass lying right near her side.
“Paging Dr. Price, Paging Dr. Price, it looks like we have gotten another bleeder, repeat we have gotten another bleeder.
“What case?” He answered back promptly.
“It looks like case 1034. Summer, Dawn.”
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Please Review, and if you have any ideas for the plot email me at ildawniec@yahoo.com
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