The memory of my first time in these corridors came back to me.

  I came in, and one of the first things I thought of at the time was;

  Corridor filled with locked doors.

  But in what way did I assume they were locked? Specifically, how did I think of them being locked?

  There's no real way to tell a locked and unlocked door apart except by a visible padlock; these doors have no such padlock. They are as ordinary as the next, except for their intricate leaf carvings.

  Running my eyes along the seemingly endless corridor of 'locked' doors, white paintings, and vases, I began analyzing the structure of the doors.

  Very ordinary.

  But, though I know I can open them;

  Should I?

  Is what lies behind them safe for me to explore?

  When mother takes me to the gardens, it's via the bedroom door connecting through space; then, how about these doors?

  Where will they take me?

  Slowly rubbing my face in frustration, I picked up the stool and dragged it over to the centre of the corridor; my fingers are tearing me apart.

  There's a realistic limit to the volume of pain a human is capable of ignoring whilst maintaining the normal function of their body.

  I've reached that limit.

  Hissing in pain like an aggravated cat, I blew at my torn and bloodied fingers. I hoped that the breeze of the wind would alleviate my pain.

  Damn it.

  Why did I eat my fingers?

  Hunger is frankly terrifying once it reaches its extremes; I hope never to experience hunger of that degree again. With my fingers in this state, I helplessly nudged the stool along the corridor in baby steps.

  I don't know what's behind these doors, so I'll randomly pick one.

  And randomly pick I did.

  With the stool pced under the closest set of double doors, I hopped on and reached for the doorknob.

  Praying to whatever Gods on my side out there, I painfully tched my fat fingers around the knob and twisted. With my 'almighty' strength, it took a couple of minutes of repeated attempts to turn it far enough.

  Click.

  My heart almost sank when I heard the door untch.

  Calming my heaving heart, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and got off the stool. Pushing the door open would need all of my body's strength.

  It's not much, but it's enough.

  ...Still.

  I wonder what lies beyond these doors.

  A subtle amalgamation of worry and anticipation crept into my heart; what if behind these doors is a way out; what if behind these doors is salvation;

  What if my sister is behind these doors?

  My heartbeat sped up at the thought; rushing in breaths to calm my rising nerves, I rested my palms on the very lightly opened doors—faint light seeped through the cracks, raising my heart rate further.

  Using both hands to create a gap in the door, I tucked my elbows into the opening and, using them as leverage to lever the rest open-

  Groan...

  The door opened far enough to let me slip in, but I had to open it enough to use the stool as a doorstop.

  A struggle and a half ter, it was done.

  And;

  I entered the room.

  Crystal light flooded my vision, drowning me in bright, almost fluorescent colours. Covering my pale eyes with my elbow, I gradually adjusted to the change until...

  Till I saw the innards of the room.

  Till I saw the colours.

  The children's toys littered a colourful section of the room; the children's books lined a small, child-friendly bookshelf; colours, decorations, entertainment and sources of education—the room had it all.

  And I.

  I saw none of it.

  I only saw the crib in the corner of the room.

  Ba-dump.

  My heart palpitated with anticipation and an unstoppable emotion.

  Ba-dump.

  Heat flooded my cheeks.

  Ba-dump.

  The familiar sensation of...

  Ba-dump.

  Love.

  The air in the room smelt of her.

  And I walked forward; I stepped towards her crib like a puppet strung along.

  The room is fragrant, warm, full of love.

  But.

  I don't trust it.

  What did they do to my sister?

  Did they hurt her?

  Abuse her?

  Manipute her?

  ...A certain fear clung to me.

  A fear I didn't want to believe to be true.

  But a fear I had to confront.

  Did they;

  I clenched my fat fists.

  Did they do to her what they did to me?

  Did they starve her?

  Humiliate her?

  My blood boiled at the thought of it; unbearable rage clung to me stickily, crashing across my body like bolts of cacophonous lightning.

  I won't forgive them if they did.

  ...I am one thing.

  But.

  My sister.

  The few growing teeth in my mouth bit down on the gums of my mouth, drawing more blood from my tired, anaemic body.

  I only needed a couple more steps to reach my sister.

  But I didn't need those steps.

  ...She's there.

  I could finally see her past the wooden bars of the crib; her snow-white hair was longer than I remembered it, and her body had also grown;

  Some time has passed unbeknownst to me.

  But it's her; this is my sister.

  The tension and worry in my chest naturally washed away. Her purity cleansed my filthy thoughts, allowing me some sembnce of rexation.

  I took another step forward-

  My unease thawed.

  -then another.

  The individual strands of baby-smooth white hair and her glossy skin were crystal clear to my eyes; all my worries inevitably lessened.

  You still love your sleep.

  A warm smile involuntarily slipped onto my face.

  Stopping three steps away from the crib, I restrained every fibre in my body to stop myself from waking her up; I found her room. All I needed to do now was find the way out of this mansion and into the outside world; then, I could come back for her and bring her with me after I'd formed a solid pn.

  She's not old enough to understand what's going on, so it's better to keep it to myself for now.

  But, easier said than done.

  The urge to call for her, wake her from her sleep, to hug her for the first time in who knows how long...

  This temptation is pulling me.

  I took another step forward.

  I was now a mere two steps away from my sleeping sister.

  I shouldn't.

  ...But I want to.

  My right arm slowly rose, my fingers spreading out as I began to reach for the wooden bars of the crib.

  I want to talk to her, to ugh with her, to see her all day long.

  Then.

  The strings connecting my soul to the puppeteer of my life strung me forward; I took the step toward my sister, the st step to the crib.

  My arm reached out; my soul reached out—my everything was reaching for her.

  She's right there.

  A breath's worth of distance away.

  An arm's reach away.

  Thud.

  A solid thump suddenly echoed through the room, the sound of skin connecting with fabric, a tough, authoritative...

  "You shouldn't be sneaking out, Alora~"

  I froze.

  I can see the fingers from the corner of my eye; the fingers sprawled across my right shoulder, csping me. The warm, soothing voice lingered in my eardrums, echoing ticklishly.

  Creaking, my head—the sad, dismal puppet's head—turned to the right.

  White met Blue.

  The oceans gazed back at me;

  But at that moment, what I saw was not the ocean.

  But the abyss.

  A smile calmly lingered on her lips as she stared at me.

  "That's enough for today, got it?"

  Cold.

  Her voice;

  Cold.

  Her eyes;

  Cold.

  Her smile;

  Cold.

  So, so, so-

  ColdodlldodldldodldlolCOLD!

  ...So peaceful.

  Cold...

  ...Peaceful.

  Cold...

  ...Peaceful.

  Alora froze with a stiff smile. And around her came the two arms, embracing her, locking her, raising her.

  "Let's go back."

  Taking steps backwards, the woman seemed to purposefully retain this position, allowing Alora a final glimpse of her sister; teasing her.

  Me.

  Mocking me.

  Cold.

  Let me down.

  I'm so cold.

  Give me my sister.

  But the distance only increased between us.

  I couldn't move;

  Couldn't speak;

  Couldn't even breathe;

  I was still.

  Like a stranded puppet.

  And, not long after, we reached the border of the room: the doors.

  My sister slept peacefully, yet here I was; frozen cold.

  I tried to move my arms, my fingers, open my mouth; fucking breathe-!

  ...I can't.

  The woman's chin pyfully rested on my head as we lingered in front of the door, and then, words came flying out her mouth once more:

  "This is what good girls get, a wonderful room. But you, sweetie..."

  The woman lowered her head, arriving beside mine, close enough for me to count the pores on her skin.

  But all I see are her maddening pupils.

  "...are a bad girl."

  Then, she took a step back, beyond the boundary of the room;

  We instantly returned to my bedroom.

  The chair and stool were both back in pce, but I was too delirious to care; my mind hovered somewhere far beyond these tiny matters.

  Turning me around, she walked back to the bed and...

  Pomf~

  She gently lowered me, pcing me in a sitting position. Turning me around, I was forced to sit face-to-face with the crouching woman. Her chestnut-coloured hair was tied in a bun, and she was dressed in a sleeping outfit.

  But I focused my eyes on her mouth—on the only thing that mattered at the moment.

  Her eyeshes were still, her facial muscles stiff, and the soft smile on her face was awkward this time around; she was...

  Angry.

  She's angry.

  And, as she spoke her words...

  "Alora, sweetie, you did an oopsie, didn't you?"

  Her stiff smile loosened with satisfaction; ill satisfaction.

  "And you know what happens to naughty girls, right?"

  Her ill smile leaked to the edges of her face, pulling her usually beautiful face apart with a demented look.

  "They get punished."

  ...My heart sank.