The other girl has wires and tubing coming in and out of her skin. They are silver, bright, against the pale pigmentation of skin. Contrasting. With a purpose. The men in the white coats say it's important and what they are doing must be done to better humanity.
They don't smile or frown. They are blank as the slate that is her memory now that they have removed her past out of her mind. They are shadows, except not, because shadows are supposed to exist only in the dark and they are everywhere, even in the light.
The other girl has no expression now, hasn't for awhile. She wakes and sleeps and wakes again and sleeps some more. It's a cycle unstoppable by ay force and it doesn't stop, won't stop, can't stop. It is truth. It is how things are and how they must be. It simply is.
The tubes and wires just are. Their purpose may not be clear but neither is her purpose or the purpose of the girl. Uncertainties without reasons, without answers. Only nothing. They are one and the same and no amount of doctoring will change that. No matter their form, they will always be and they will never be.