It's gotten Quiet again, for the moment.

Anna sits by the window, turning the paper bracelet around her wrist, staring out at the sun.

The room is very white and very still. And quiet, though there's always activity to hear in the hall.

She can overhear it, but she can tune it out, too.

It's not like the Voices.

She's been here since the day she ran out into the street, since it was decided that she was getting worse, that she was a risk to herself and maybe to other people.

In an hour or so, Dr. Jamison will be in.

If it's still Quiet (instead of just quiet), she'll tell him (again) that she doesn't know what the Voices are, that they don't tell her Do Things (except the one time she thought they told her to run), that she's not making it up and she'd love for them to go away.

If the Voices are talking, though, then the best she can hope for is distracted, attention divided, stopping to listen. And if they all talk at once again, she probably won't be able to tell him anything at all.

Please, God, make this stop. Make them go away.