“Just put it in anyway. What can we do about it now? We open in one hour.” the dwarfish figure yelled at the men in overalls. His booming voice did not match his diminutive size. Shaking their heads, the workmen muttered under their breath as they carried the glass over to the empty frame. A third man holding a large toolbox joined them. The girl watched the men in the mirrors as they worked, bodies bouncing in and out of form. Soon bored with their activity, she turned her attention back to the sketches in front of her.

She sat. She drew. Churning out the sea of the horrors that she witnessed daily and which were all she had ever known. Yet she never tried to escape, the thought never entered her mind. So she just silently observed. The faces, the bodies, her own, twisted and contorted. She never turned her head. She just stared at the reflections, remaining caught in her own private hell.

The little clown with his devilish makeup brought her food and took away the drawings she produced. She did not care where they went, she just drew. Charcoal images of hellish anatomy, perfect likenesses of what she observed….

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