She walked down the endless halls, smelling the scent of old books and wooden shelves, wading in her misery.

When will he return? she thought anxiously. He hadn’t been back in a long time, though admittedly his absence was a blessing.

Maybe he forgot. Had everyone forgotten about her by now? Was her existence even acknowledged beyond her own headspace?

The thoughts were the same as yesterday, or every day before this one. She needed to find that window. That would pull her out of insanity, if only for a moment. But where was it?

There were no familiar places. The shelves constantly shifted around, and so did the books. Part of her still wondered how that happened; still wondered if there were others besides her who were lost here. But she knew there wasn’t. There never had been. It was all in her head.

She turned another corner and saw the mirror. Her own face, looking back at her with that forever lonely glance, full of melancholy and hopelessness. The black marks down her cheeks that looked like tear streaks added to the sense of sadness, as well as marking her as one of those who could never return home.

She reached up a paw and traced the black mark on that cheek, watching her reflection do the same. I’m special, she thought with emptiness.

You will never make it out. The voice that haunted her day after day was back, ready for another session of torture. She gripped her head as if to tear out the unwelcome presence, but like usual, it did nothing.

You’re all alone. So helpless. The classic giggle that came afterwards sent a shiver down her spine. Whatever was talking to her was clearly mad beyond recognition.

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Do you even exist anymore?

She paused.

If no one knew she was alive, was she? If no one believed in her, could she truly do anything? Was she merely a ghost by now, cursed to haunt these long passages until she disappeared? How could she know whether or not it was true?

If I’m not alive, how can I feel pain? she asked. No matter how hard she tried not to speak to the voice, she always ended up communicating some way or another. Knowing there was something beyond this never ending library was a relief, even if that something constantly tormented her.

What if pain is the only thing that was ever real?

No. I remember happiness. I remember laughter and jokes and flowers and outdoors.

It was all just a dream. A figment of your imagination. All in your head.

In my head. She gripped the sides of her head tighter. Leave me alone! Get out of my mind!

The voice giggled again. The mirror went in and out of focus. Her heart began to pound faster and faster, and the edges of her vision faded into blackness.

Not again, she thought, bringing her thoughts back on track. I won’t lose my mind. I refuse.

She looked back at the mirror again and gasped. There, in the reflection, was a window—right behind her. She whipped around and gave a cry of joy at the sight of sunlight.

She rushed to the window and put a paw on the glass. There was a tree out there! A tree!

They really do exist, she thought. It wasn’t a dream. Take that, mystery voice!

You still can’t escape, the voice bit back. How does it feel that you can see freedom so close and yet will never be there?

Her sorrows poured back onto her at those words. The voice was right. She would never smell the trees and grass again, or feel the sunlight on her back. But she knew it existed, and there was still hope. It was something, and something was better than nothing.

I might not make it out of here, she thought. But at least I won’t go insane.