No Children Will Cry For You**

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
The Doors are always locked, institutionised girls are faced with their TRUE nightmare.

Submitted: January 08, 2008

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Submitted: January 08, 2008



Emily stood at the Victorian pine door, with her delicate ears gently pressed up at the wood. She awaited the sound of footsteps. Eventually the sound rang down the corridor, Mother arrived at last. Holding a glass of freshly opened milk for Emily to drink, to wash away her nights. Emily knew what was in her drink: drugs, medication, anything to stop her screaming and pleading at night. That's what they d to girls here, that don't sleep when they are, suppose to. If she did this a few more times, she would be moved to the East Wing of the institute. Emily wanted that more than anything, something without cupboards and shadows, without curtains and floorboards that squeaked. Mother (the general name for the nurses here) handed her the glass carefully, and watched Emily take every sip and gulp and sigh, until it was all gone. She bent down-barely to Emily's height- and beckoned her to bed. Emily crawled into her tall bed quickly, as to not catch a glimpse of the slightly ajar closet or then shadows that swept below her. The covers were pulled up to her chin, and Emily gently brushed her silvery blonde hair from behind her neck with her tiny fingers.

"Good Night Emily" said Mother, in the same tone as those nights before. Emily responded by closing her eyes.

Darkness fell. The moon reflected down over the institute, giving a generous dose of light in Emily's room. Everything shifted and moved. Things creaked, and rattled. It was here, she knew it. Every night, it visits, it haunts her. Like a disease, and leaves a mark of fright and terror in her skin, like every other girl in this corridor. Emily definitely was not the only one. Even though, she felt a presence creep up her body, her eyes stayed closed. If they were kept closed until morning, a breath pressed onto her hair, facing her, almost touching her nose that pointed out of her hair in curiosity. Everything posed in a tense moment of churning fear and torture. Emily tried her very best to stay silent, holding her breath by a noose.

“AHHHHH!” tore a voice through the tension. Emily’s eyes shot open and triggered onto nothing. Nothing was in front of her. She exhaled, and looked down.

Emily sat silently on her bed, arms folded on top of her legs with dipping toes. She got no sleep last night, her body was completely drained. She felt like a sponge, flooded with water being held over a bath as drip by drip there became nothing in her as she got tightly squeezed to nothing, until eventually dropped into her fate. It was painful. After moments, she buried her tearful face in her cupped hands and quietly suffered by herself. Those minutes dried away and she slowly peeled away her fingers from her eyes and right in her face were eyes that met with hers.

Emily shot up from her white bed, threw her eyes about the blank page of a room and noticed where she was, the East Wing. There was no furniture apart from the mattress that lay in the corner of the room, holding her gently. She took her hand and wiped it over her forehead, she had been sweating. Emily was panicked within herself. She knew this would be the safest she would ever be, but something was wrong here. Mother entered, closing the door appropriately behind her and watched me for an eerie three minutes.

“What?” She suddenly spoke-out of line.

There failed to be a reply, she sat up and got a wave of uncomfortable nerves overwhelm me.

“What is it? Why are you staring at me?” Emily repeated over and over again. But Emily did not get a response. But the reply was in fact a movement: Mother began to slowly edge her way over towards the mattress, the closer she came; the more panicked Emily was. She held herself, she was frightened. As Mother was right there, next to her, faces together, her mouth slowly opened, wider and wider. No scream, no shout, just a pair of piercing eyes, into Emily. She began to fall, her eyes shut, her voice gone, nothing of Emily. Nothing left.

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