Through the eyes of a child

         Juliana sniffed. The cries of laughter from the children outside were buzzing in her ears. She sulked and frowned upon the scene in front of her. Upset, she slammed the window shut. It was just her luck to be stuck indoors on a great autumn day. It seemed to her that the entire world was having fun without her. The bitterness that was burned into her young heart flared with anger.

         Let them be, she thought vindictively, as she mentally mutilated their figures. They're too stupid to figure out that when your friend is sick, you are supposed to send them "Get Well Soon" cards and flowers. Instead, the only thing she got was a horrible mood. Her upper lip snarled up in defiance, revealing two dark cavities where her teeth used to be. What do THEY know?

         It was right then that she noticed a boy wearing worn out jeans that were at least five inches too short for him. His shirt, once a dark blue checked one with buttons down the front, was faded and full of grime. His feet were without shoes and when Juliana squinted to get a better look of his face, she gasped.

         He was so skinny, Juliana thought his joints were going to snap at the slightest breeze. His cadaver-like features further emphasized his fragility. His hands were hooked like claws and they were bloodied. His face had horrible scars which, to Juliana, seemed like the kind that never really disappear, but stay- to haunt you.

         He stood by the side, alone, watching.

         This child, a vagabond (though Juliana felt that word was too harsh a noun), had not a friend. She had always that the she was one of the coolest people in school, and that she had swarms of friends from all over the country and beyond. She had made them swear allegience to her, even thought she had no idea what that word really implied. She felt like Hitler, ruling over both the staff and students of the boarding school she resided in.

         Then she saw Josephina, one of her blond minions, walk up to the boy. The blonde whispered something in his ear. Juliana's curiosity was aroused as soon as her anger cooled and she opened the window to see better through the mist. His face had turned a bright crimson and he retorted by limply pushing Josephina away. The blonde then coolly declared to the other children that he was so poor, he wore the same underwear everyday. A furore took place, though to Juliana, the sound was so muffled, it sounded like bad static from a radio.

         Usually, Juliana would have laughed at what Josephina had just done. It was so typical of her to be mean to everyone, except herself of course. But that day, something in Juliana stirred. She looked at her friends, and she looked at the boy. She could not believe it, but... she wanted them to stop taunting the child.

         Her parched throat forbade her to utter but a single syllable and her doctor had also advised her not to shout too much. She could only watch the helpless child get beaten up by people she knew from school. Her eyes filled once again with tears for the second time that day, and in a momentarily loss of self-control, she let fall a tear. But just as salt can aggravate wounds, her first tear led to uncontrollable sobbing.

         "Stop it," she sobbed, ignoring the pangs of pain from her throat.

         She rapped her knuckles on the windowpane until they bled. She cried out louder. When no one responded, she dropped to her knees and wept without restraint. The darkness of the room comforted her as a fire brings hope to a cold night.

         A few good cries later, she realised something was amiss. She could no longer hear the distant cries. She rushed to her feet hurriedly and looked out the clear window. Everyone had gone off with the mist. It was too quiet.

         She panicked. What has happened to the boy? Is he hurt? What have those idiots done to him? WHERE IS EVERYBODY?

         A million questions ran through her mind. She strained her eyes left and right. No one. The small frame of the window kept her from looking around difficult corners.

         He was gone. Juliana locked the window and groped around for her bed in the blinding darkness. As she lay herself down, she forced her mind to think of other persistent matters other than that of the boy. She reminded herself that there was a spelling test next Friday, and she had not yet revised.

         Let's face the facts slowly, she told herself.

         And she told herself that it was time for her to go back to the safety of her own world. The world where everyone is treated fairly without prejudices or ranks, and where people of different backgrounds and foregrounds can live in peace and harmony without ever worrying about their pride.

         The large, looming door to her rightcreaked open.

         "Good evening, Miss Juliana. And how are we today?" a Voice said.

         Juliana breathed sharply. The dispassionate and detached tone frightened her every time it spoke. He would visit her every day and ask the same questions. He kept eerily quiet every time she asked him to turn on the light in the room. Nevertheless, she decided to indulge him in her thoughts this time. Perhaps he could offer answers.

         "There was a boy; my friends tortured him," she spat out, disgusted at her wrong use of the word 'friends'.

         Doctor Harry Wayne shook his head sadly as he looked at the frightened girl. Your mental state is getting worse, he thought. Poor girl- abandoned in the streets at such a young age.It was just her luck the Institution had one more vacancy at that time.

         Aloud Doctor Wayne said, "Come on and have your dinner, young lady."

         He carried her out of her room into her wheelchair and signalled to the nurse waiting outside to bring her to the dining room. Just as he was closing the door, he looked out of the window and saw the mist settling in again. Facing the brick-coloured wall, he wondered what Juliana could see there everyday.

         After lowering the blinds, he locked the door of the room carefully, and went back to the Observation Room.

         "How's your blind girl, Harry? What's her name again? Lily, was it?" one of his colleagues asked.

         "It's Juliana."

         "Oh, right. Anyway, I saw her walking without her cane, that one time. Yah? That was Real Spooky." He laughed and said, "You know, maybe we should-"

         "Shut up."

         A broad smile momentarily brightened up the dumb face of Harry's colleague as he said, "That's exactly what we're doing, ol' buddy."