Running, running, running, circles in a dark room. Carpet worn in rectangular circle where the girl of fifteen has been running running running all night and all day for a week now. Mumbling to herself in the darkness, I hear her from behind the safety of the mirror-window, dimmed now on the advice of the head nurse. The monitors behind me glow an eerie blue, accompanied by the hum of the video recorders under the table. The red light flashes on and off and on and she is still running running running.

Her feet are bloody, the beige carpet is coated in a brownish stain that circles the room. The walls are white, padded for her safety. Necessary, given the number of times her speed has been too much for her and she has slammed into the wall, fallen, and resumed. The doctors come in and out of my observation room, asking me what has happened in the last few hours. I say nothing, they sip from their coffee cups, white porcelain stained blue in this alien light. My face reflected in their glasses, my face behind their eyes.