Lost in my image

A Story by Svet

I could hear small whispers bleeding through the outside walls. The soft voices spoke to my ear in chopped expressions. "...Annah..."

As my foot stepped off the bus on little west street in New York, an abundant gust of wind approached me roughly. When the bus went by my scarf fluttered wildly, trying to unwind from my neck. What was there to expect? I was some lost girl here in the city of Manhattan, had no home and didn't know whether I had parents or not. It’s like I don’t know who I am, where I've been, or where I've come from. Lord knows that I am dying to know where I’m going to lay my head tonight.

“Annah.”

I could hear a distant voice calling my name that I only faintly recognized. I slowly opened my eyes, still feeling a bit tired, to see what face matched the polite voice. A man with an all white attire and pale skin to match it rested before me in a small stool that usually stayed in the room’s corner. A silver catch displayed itself on the ghastly cloak that the man wore. My eyes squinted to make out what the sketching engraved in the tag said. His name is Dr. Jung. In his pale hands Dr. Jung holds a repetitive tool I see many of his kind wearing around their necks every day. Dr. Jung explains that he will need to perform a required cerebral check-up and that he to, will need my cooperation. Without a fuss I obey all of the simple proposals. Dr. Jung finishes the last of his written comments and quickly leaves the room with a fraudulent smile that he tries to mask. I directly knew that his reaction to the results was not of acceptable nature.