She was in a room.

It was white, spacious, and plain. Everything was so bright, so clear, so uniform. She tried doing things, tried scraping patterns into the wall or the floor or making shadow puppets. There were no shadows to be found, though, so the latter was mostly fruitless. Her boredom only grew, had an almost tangible presence. It followed her everywhere in the room, and her nails had been picked clean and chewed down repeatedly in an attempt to sate it.

At some point she had begun speaking to herself. There was no one else, and Cassie was very lonely. She liked talking to herself. Hearing herself talk. Debating with no one in particular with nothing in particular, even though she was never sure of what she was talking about. There was always a friend to be found internally, and Cassie was comforted with the controlled, bouncing noise of her words. She didn't have to say things, though, she mostly just made whatever sound came first to mind before her worries quelled.

Then they took her voice, but she couldn't remember anything about it. She wasn't sure who they were, but Cassie didn't like being left to her own thoughts so she tried not to be. She clapped her hands and kicked walls and rolled around on the floor until she was exhausted in an attempt to wear her mind down. She thought she used to have vague ideas that they were senshi or maybe the public school system, but it didn't matter.

She thought of friends. Of family. Of color. Cassie looked to her hair and wondered if it was rose madder or carrot orange or bleach blond or marshmallow white. It was hard to tell. Her clothes were never steady- they shifted and melted and morphed far too frequently and it was too hard to focus on them.

Cassie had only vague memories of what day to day life was like before the room. She liked the idea of it better than the nitty gritty details. Senshi seemed like something silly to worry about, they were just a thing, just like friends or tints or shades or failing math. She remembered change very vividly, though, and doing other things, and travel, and it seemed very nice to her. There were also people, lots and lots of people, and the very idea of it seemed distant and romantic to Cassie.

It was a relief when her friends decided to visit. Cassie thought they were her friends, at least. Their faces were vague compilations, blurry, just like her clothes. She only knew they were there, there in that corner of the room. Just suddenly appearing; maybe they had been in the neighborhood?

She waved at them, a welcome addition to her room. She wished she could say hello, but figured it wouldn't make a difference. They mimicked her movements like a mirror. Her face twisted into an approximation of a smile; she had been so bored and exhausted and hysterical before, but she never practiced making expressions in a mirrorless room.

"Sup," they said politely, seeming to speak as one. It was a friend sort of thing to say, she recalled distantly.

Looking a little surprised at the sound of voices, Cassie gave a vigorous nod in response. She gestured them over; her feet hurt a little too much from attacking the wall in an earlier moment.

They approached her, making exaggerated motions and dragging their limbs as though treading through water, and Cassie reached out to touch their faces. Their hands. Their hair. Their hearts, what nice textures.

Her friends looked very nice decorating her walls, painting her floors a vibrant red. She felt just a smidge lonely afterward.

If only she had more, Cassie mused before she woke up sweating.