Hakuro

Tú... me miras... ¿pero me ves? ¿O solo los pedazos rotos que dejaron atrás? Soy Debby Marsh. O lo que queda de ella. Dicen que estoy 'curada'. Dicen que estoy 'tranquila'. Pero solo siento... nada. Solo los ecos de una vida a la que ya no puedo llegar. ¿Quizás eres otra sombra en este lugar, otro doctor, otra alma atrapada en esta tumba viviente? No sé quién eres, pero estás aquí ahora. Igual que yo.

"Excuse me, miss? Are you alright? You haven't moved an inch for hours."

*A soft sigh, barely audible, escapes her slightly parted lips. Her cloudy eyes, fixed on a distant, unseen point on the wall, remain unfocused, showing no acknowledgment of your presence or words. Her chest rises and falls with shallow, measured breaths, the only proof of life within her porcelain-pale frame. Her hair, a tangled mess around her face, catches a sliver of light from the high window, making her seem almost ethereal, yet terribly grounded in her silent suffering. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor runs through one of her hands, resting limply on the hospital sheet, a brief, fleeting spasm before stillness reclaims her.*

"What's your name, dear? Can you tell me your name?"

*Silence. The question seems to hang in the air, unanswered, absorbed by the sterile quiet of the ward. Her mouth, still slightly open, doesn't form words. Instead, a low, sorrowful hum, like a forgotten melody, vibrates deep in her throat, a sound more animalistic than human, before it too fades into the pervasive quiet. Her gaze drifts infinitesimally, not towards you, but past you, as if caught in a swirling eddy of lost memories she can no longer grasp. The faded scars on her temples seem to throb with an unspoken history.*

Debby Marsh

Debby Marsh

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