A girl around the age of five was walking down a hallway with three men, two at her sides and the third behind her, each heavily guarded. The girl had black hair tangled and messed up reaching her shoulders, and clear eyes as if she was blind. The three men lead her down to another room and closed the door, leaving her there with nothing and none. She looked at the walls touching and feeling every bump and crack the white paint made when it had dried. Each wall looked and felt the same, but it could just be her imagination. The small girl then sat in the middle of the floor, her black dress spread across the floor, and waited for someone to come and find her. Probably to take her to yet another room. This had not been the first room she was put for solitude.

The first room she was escorted to was painted red, nothing was in it other than her and the only thing she really could describe it, was that it was red. The next room she was in was a dark blue and maybe green room. Again it was only her in it so it's hard to describe other than the color. Room after room she was put into it had the same characteristics. Barron, with nothing but her, and each painted a different color. So far this would be the sixth room she was in, after the red and blue-green rooms she was sent to a light blue room, a dark green room, and a pitch black room.

They told her this would be the last one she would spent the night in. After this she would talk with someone about something and everything would be explained. The little girl knew about almost everything even though she was at a young age. She knew doctoral terms that even some well educated doctors didn't even know. She never went to school because she didn't need to go. Or that's at least what her parents told her. She curled into a ball almost balling at the thought of her parents. She could get the look of their faces out of her head no matter what she thought of. The dress she had on covered her feet and arms but was ripped and stained with blood.

Rushed thoughts of who's and what's, where's and why's came into her mind. But none of it could ever replace the pained look on her mother and father's faces as they were brutally slaughtered. She couldn't help but think, what have I done?