Sterile white walls stared out at their prisoner. The pasty walls matched the clean, purely white bed and the white table, both made out of metal that had been painted white to make it match the one and only colour in the colour scheme. White.
The room had way too much simplicity, it was sanitized and the smell of bleach stung the noses of any visitors, causing it to linger in the persons mind for a lot longer than just the trip in the room. Not that anyone ever willingly entered the room.
He sat in the corner, curled up into a ball, a large sketch book clasped tightly in his hands. His eyes darted around the room, holding the sketchbook even tighter, as if daring anyone to come near it or even try and take it. He wore freshly laundered white scrubs, matching with the pale placid theme of the room.
Empty. That’s the only way you could describe the room, it had no sense of home or no sense of any life. The only personal items that adorned the room were on the windowsill of a window that was only the size of a small envelope. On the cracked windowsill there was a small dainty female bracelet, Glimmering silver in the dull, minimal light of the room. The only charm on the bracelet was a small heart shaped charm that was slightly scratched. On the charm there was a couple of small rhinestones creating the shape of an “R”
Next to the first item was probably the most disturbing. A long lock of light golden hair on its own, clearly having been cut off of someone’s head. The hair shone ever so slightly in the light. Only a few centimetres away was a worn old leather glove, dropped and forgotten about long ago.
The finally on the list of sickening mementos, were the drawings. There must have been hundreds of them. All of them lining the walls or flowing from any available surface. Pencil sketch after pencil sketch of the same beautiful angelic face. The small button nose and bright eyes that the patient always wanted to stare at, all framed by light coloured hair that fell just past her shoulder.
A sober faced nurse watched as the patient sketched franticly. She sighed before checking the watch I the pocket of her clean white nursing uniform. Leaving the room she made sure to lock the door behind her.
She was upset, upset that she would have to go to the station and give yet another progress report on how he was doing. On his mental state. Later that day a male nurse who happened to be her best friend drove her down to the station. That was when they were given the news. Once they were sat in that stupid small interrogation room with no taste and dismal colours. He was to be put to death.
“you can’t do that! He’s harmless all he ever does is draw a picture of a young girl that he’s made up! How is he dangerous to the public!” he nurse exclaimed.
He best friend came to her defence. “the death penalty seems a bit harsh, officer, he is well and truly harmless,”
“try telling that to Rebecca Louise Wells” the police officer told them severely.
They both looked confused.
“Who” the nurse asked the officer, but all he did was open the door and point for them to leave. As they walked out the room in time to see another girl being led out of the room on the opposite side. At the moment both the nurse and the doctor saw her there was a collected intake of breath.
It was her, the girl from everyone of the drawing that the patient had created. They were all of her. She looked different though. Her face was sallow and pale. She had obviously lost weight and wore a pair of old jeans and a baggy hoodie. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a tight pony tail at the back of her head, there was a deep looking cut that had began to heal over her right eye, her eyes themselves were red from tears.
Frankly she looked a mess.
Like she had been chased to hell and back.
“it’s you” the doctor whispered “you’re real, you’re not just a hallucination of his”
“I ain’t just a drawing” she turned to leave. “and could you please get me my bracelet back, it’s my favourite”

The only question the nurse was – how did all this happen?