There isn’t a window in sight, though plenty of glass. Behind some of it, sit nurses, or secretaries. And others form little rectangles on the many doors that line the hall. Most of them are covered still by the blinds on the inside. The blank white walls remind me of a certain place.

Even though it’s midday, there’s no sunlight in the building, at least where we are now. The same can be said about the garden we’ve departed. Supposedly, this place was built in such a way that none of the rooms windows directly face the sun during sunrise or sunset. A consequence of that is that the front and back of the building will be in its shadow for half of the day. That’s what I’m told at least. And I’d like to think it comes from a fairly credible source.

Suddenly, one of the doors on the left side of the hall opens, and a little girl walks out of it, followed by a nurse just behind her.

As the girl exits the room looks around like she has some excess energy to burn, and her eyes soon spot a target for it.

“Hi C!” The girl says, almost yelling actually, addressing my wheelchair bound guide.

Priscilla replies in a sweet tone. I try not to pay attention to their conversation, though perhaps its not by choice, rather my gaze is drawn towards the little girl’s missing leg.

An abrupt feeling of unease wells up inside me as I watch the girl’s lips move as she speaks. Her expression seems happy enough, but something about that just makes it all the more difficult to pretend to act the same.

The next words make their way into my ears are Priscilla’s, and only just then realising I’m now lightly leaning on one of her wheelchair’s handles.

“Well, it was nice talking to you. I’ve got to get going now, and Millie has been waiting patiently until now, but who knows how long that will last.”

The girl nods and happily prances off, taking the hand of the nurse who was in the room with her. Once out of earshot, I hear Priscilla’s voice again.

“You okay?” She asks.

“Yeah, it’s nothing.”

I begin pushing her along heading straight down the hall. Before the quiet starts to set back in, I take the opportunity to ask a question.

“Do you know everyone here by name?”

Priscilla takes a short moment to think the question through.

“Yes, I think I do, now that you mention it.”

“Another thing, I might have misheard, but I think that girl called you ‘C’, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she did.”

“So you’ve even got people calling you that here too it seems.”

“It wasn’t originally my intention.” She replies, as she points to the elevator coming up on the left.

I push the button, before returning to wait behind Priscilla’s wheelchair. But as I do, she speaks again.

“It really is fine if you just let me move on my own. I’m not so helpless that I need someone to wheel me around wherever I go. Not yet at least.”

“It feels kind of weird just walking beside you.”

“You’re afraid that people will think we don’t like each other.” Priscilla mentions, observantly.

“Something like that.”

“That’s not something you really have to worry about. I usually don’t get anyone else to push me around either.”

“I don’t know, it still feels like wrong.” I tell her, as the red digital number above the elevator door begins moving down.

“If it’s other people’s judgement that you’re worried about, then I suppose I’ll allow it if there’s someone in the elevator when it gets here.” She says, just in time.

The elevator door opens. It’s completely empty.

We exit at the third and final floor. The doors slide open again, and a young doctor in a white coat is waiting on the other side.

I hold the open-door button and wait for Priscilla to leave the elevator, but I soon realise she isn’t moving. Quickly, I grab the handles of her wheelchair and push her out, awkwardly passing by the doctor in the process. His kind smile just makes it worse.

“I guess it doesn’t feel that weird after all then?” Priscilla says, rhetorically.

“Which way should we go?” I ask.

“Look behind us, on the left of the elevators.”

Turning to her directions, there’s a short staircase, not ten steps, leading to a large set of doors. The sunlight pours in from the two windows on either one. An empty wheelchair sits in the corner.

Priscilla pushes herself ahead waiting at the bottom step. I rush over and offer her a hand, but she raises her own, telling me she doesn’t need it.

She speaks in a rather weak tone.

“I probably should have told you this earlier, but my legs aren’t actually broken or anything.”

Pushing her weight up from off the seat, the wheelchair slides out from behind, and she collapses to her knees, and then onto her side.

Breathing heavily, she rejects my instinctive approach to help her up.

“I’m fine.” She says, taking a moment to catch her breath. “Just wait for me by the door, if that's okay."

I nod without a word, and do as I’m told.

After reaching the top of the steps, I look back down. Grasping the stair’s railing, Priscilla is sitting on the second step, her body sprawled out below the waist. Her right shoe still not having left ground level.

Before I even move this time, the girl senses my intentions, and tells me to look around.

“Is anyone watching?” She asks.

There doesn’t seem to be a soul in this quiet hall.

I shake my head.

All I’m given is a look that tells me to just wait patiently.

Priscilla carries on without a word, first pulling up her lower leg and placing it on the next step up, before lifting herself up to sit one step higher. She rests for a few seconds, then reaches for the railing again. Only once she has a firm grasp, she begins to move her next leg up. She does this over and over, never losing her resolve, and never once looking in my direction.

As she approaches the final step. The railing is no longer there for her to hold onto, and instead she crawls upwards by pulling on the floor. Every time she gets closer and closer to the top.

I move to get the empty wheelchair, but still, she tells me not too. As she finally makes onto flat ground, she pushes herself towards her wheelchair, swatting its legs and moving it against the wall.

Finally, she reaches up, and pulls herself to sit atop it. Only then does she look me in the eye.

“Let’s carry on then, shall we.” She says, as if the last few minutes had never even happened.

I head towards the door, but I notice that there’s a lock built into its handle.

Coming to my aid, Priscilla holds up a dull silver key.

“The patients aren’t usually allowed up here. I think I’m the only one who has a key.” She explains, unlocking the door.

We’re greeted with a large breeze and the blinding light bouncing off the white sheets hanging to dry.

The roof is wide with a tiled floor. A high steel fence lines its perimeter.

Priscilla finds a spot near the edge nearest the sun. Overlooking the front of the hospital. From here, the roofs of the small town cover the horizon, past the hedge trees that surround the premises.

“This is where I’ve been all this time.” Priscilla says, looking out into the distance.

“All eight of these years, I’ve spent every minute of them right here. Kind of uninteresting, don’t you think?”

Unable to think of any reply, it’s all I can do to just stand lonelier than the wind by her side.

“I’m going to suggest something for you to think about for a while, then tell me what you make of it.”

Priscilla gives me an opportunity to reply, one that I don’t take, so she uses the moment to ready her words.

“I’ve been wondering recently whether anybody ever does anything wrong. Sure, as humans, we lie and we steal, we kill, but I think that most of the time, nobody ever does those things just for the sake of doing them.”

Her words seem somewhat familiar, perhaps because I’ve been thinking something along those lines as well.

“I want to believe that there’s a good reason behind everything.” Priscilla continues, “I think that’s another thing that humans tend to do quite a bit. We seek to justify everything, whether good or evil, whether we deserve the good, or have no choice but to commit evil.”

There’s no change in her tone, but her next words seem much more stern than I ever remembered this girl to be.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about, and I think I’ve found the answer.” She says, concluding her question.

I reply without much delay.

“I think your theory is mistaken. There will always be those who are evil just because that’s who they are.”

A brief smile creeps its way onto Priscilla’s face.

“That’s the correct answer.” She says, “Now for my next question. Do you think the world would be better off without those evil people you speak of?”

Her question catches me a little off guard, like she can tell what I’m thinking before even I do.

“I don’t think that’s something for me to decide.”

My reply appears to be somewhat disappointing for her.

“There’s another thing that I’ve noticed that humans do quite a bit. We try our best not to think for ourselves. It’s easier if someone else tells us what’s right, and for us to believe them without a shred of doubt.”

Her criticism isn’t exactly subtle, but she doesn’t chase it any further.

“Tell me something, Klaus, did my brother ever tell you about us, before the Conservatory?”

Prompted to speak, I muster up whatever answer I can find.

“He didn’t really like to talk about it that much. But I think he once mentioned that he grew up in an orphanage overseas.”

“And do you think he was telling you the truth?”

“At the time I’m sure I did.”

Priscilla raises her gaze up to the sky.

“For as long as I can remember, he and I grew up alone in this world. My Ciel was a crybaby and a coward. As the older sibling, I felt like it was my duty to look after him. I probably still feel that way.”

She takes a deliberate pause before asking her next question.

“Do you still love him? After all this time?”

I give no immediate response.

“I must say, I still love him very very much.” Priscilla says.

“But I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to continue looking after him. Every day, I can feel myself growing weaker and weaker. Some days, I’m only awake for just a few hours, and others, I don’t even wake at all.”

Somewhere deep inside me, I think I always knew that this was a possibility, but there’s something different about hearing her say it herself.

“You don’t have to give me answer right now, just answer the question for yourself.”

Priscilla says.

“And whatever that answer may be, know that it will be the correct one. There are some things that we won’t find reason for no matter how hard we try to justify it.”

“What if I don’t know?” I ask.

“Then I suppose that’s the right answer.”

I’m sure there’s no way anyone would take that as a satisfying conclusion, least of all myself. But I suppose if there’s one thing I can take from it, it means it looks like I’m still somewhat human, still waiting for someone to come along and tell me what I’m supposed to believe.