A white light blinds me, and I stumble back a few steps, only to realize that I'm several feet inside of the bright room.  Memory wipe, I tell myself.  Why?  I begin to panic, trapped in a hopeless struggle when I try to remember how I came in here, and where Tara could have gone. 

"Tara!" I yell desperately, turning in dizzying circles in a vain attempt to find her, but it's too dauntingly bright, causing my eyes to water and sting painfully.  I blink, seeking any comfort I can receive.  My eyes shoot up, searching for the source of the wretched light, but anywhere I cast my gaze is like staring straight at the sun.  "Tara!" I yell again, trying to hear an echo, but there's none that I can find as my head pounds like a giant, swaying drum, and it's difficult to focus.

The only sound is the quickening beat of my heart and my own unsound breaths.  I gasp in relief when I realize that I am surrounded by warmth and fresh, scentless air.  My hospital gown is no longer stained by soot and claret red blood.

Pat, pat, pat!  I hear in the distance, but it's almost inaudible.  "Hello!?" I call out into the light, direly yearning to acquire answers.  "Is somebody there!?  Hello!? "

To my extreme relief and my unadulterated horror, the once dazzling luminescence begins to dim.  This continues until this whole world becomes dappled, dull grays.  The shades dance with each other like precarious performers.  It feels as though the uncertain shapes will collapse and wither were I to touch them, so I stand perfectly still despite my swelling curiosity.

The colorless puzzle pieces settle into an old gray classroom, where a stoic girl stares hopelessly at the unremarkable world she belongs to.  I study her, but her dark hair acts as a curtain to hide her face.  She sits alone in this room, yet she doesn't seem to notice, so I decide not to observe her circumstance as odd. 

Who are you? I wonder.  To my amazement, she slowly slides out of her light colored seat.  She stands and acknowledges my presence by looking straight at me, her eyes like carefully positioned daggers as they search me and beg for my story.

My lips part, but no sound erupts from my tongue.  She too says words that are unable to be heard, but she continues to whisper without voice.

Hussshhhh...  I hear from many thousands of harmonious voices, that I assume were sourced by the emotionless girl.  The words of the body are not heard by the ears of the mind, they quickly explain in a gravelly buzz.  You must speak with the words of the mind... they kissed.  The despondent girl closes her mouth.

What does that mean? I beg myself for answers that I don't own.  What are the ears of the mind?  I earn no response from the voices or the girl.  The ears of the mind...  There's the... mind's eye, so what's the mind's ear?  What are the words of the mind?

Will you be quiet? I hear, and the girl asks exhaustedly, staring straight through me.  You're so loud...  Her mouth didn't open.

I narrow my eyes, trying to comprehend what's happening.  Then, like the flick of a light switch, I finally realize what the "words of the mind" meant: Thoughts.  I'm sorry, I thought.  I had no way of knowing.  I was born yesterday, in a sense...  Who are you?

Aren't you wondering why you can't speak? she asks, her thoughts carrying more expression than her face.

Would you tell me if I asked? I responded.  I assume that it's nothing peculiar, you don't exactly seem surprised.  I would, however, like to know who I am speaking to...?

Do you really not know? she questioned incredulously.  Sound waves don't carry here- there's no air.  This is a physical simulated version of your mind-

Which sound waves can't travel through, I interrupt.  This isn't a place of the body, this is a place of the mind.  I tried to talk without thinking my words, so they didn't appear.  I'm surprised by the fact that I knew that.

And two people cannot share the same mind without an immense amount of energy, she continues, urging me to put the pieces together.

You're me, I conclude, pleased with myself for figuring out.  This place is called "Fear Escape", so does that mean that I'm afraid of myself? 

Not necessarily- this is your mind.  You're in an asylum.  Her stoic features turn into a malicious smile.  Find your way out.  The subconscious version of myself is gone by the time I blink.

Of my mind? I beg, but I receive no response in return.  Find the way out of my mind?  Nothing.

The gray begins to swiftly fade before my eyes, being replaced by soft, pastel colors that brighten the little room.  It's like watching the sun shine directly through the cracks in my evolving imagination.  And it's beautiful.

There are so many colors besides blood red and watery blue and sickeningly pure white.  Colors filling every crack and shadowed plane- not one speck of boring gray.  I touch the sand-colored desks, imagining that beach- that knowledge- once again.  Even my pale skin is covered in design and texture; the dirt on my clothes impressively visible against the dingy white.

There is no sound other than my own habitual breathing and the slow pit pat of my bare feet as I turn, trying to devour the color and texture and pure ecstasy escaping from the deliciously sane classroom.  My whole world was frightening and stale and peculiar- then it became gray.  Now my world is vibrant.  Unsure of my next steps, devoid of any sort of plan, I feel peace.  I think of the place I left, and shudder at the thought of giving this one up for it.  I have no desire to escape.

And in the corner- several feet away and so, so small- there's a blown glass door.  Curiosity bangs throughout my head and heart and my small feet carry me to the epicenter of my immense interest.  The door's surface is smooth and cold to the touch as my fingers glide over it.  The handle arches over the latch like a bridge over a lake, just a bit warmer than the rest of the door.

(STILL NOT COMPLETE- HAVING TROUBLE SAVING WITHOUT PUBLISHING)