Test-Session 2

Purpose- The testing of the durability of the Human Spirit under extreme duress.

Research Subject- 815165

Specifications- Species-Human

Type/Gender-Female

Hair/Eyes- Blnd., Hzl

Height-5'5" Wt.- 105lbs.

Life Stage- Pre-Adolescence

Dated: May 05 1986

Time: 1500 (MT)

Observer/Intuitive Perspective:

The subject is in a dark room. Neon red light begins to spiderweb all around her. The floor is splitting open below her. She does not know what to do. So she sits. The web encircles her, weaves into her mind, her thoughts, her psyche. Later, when she seeks comfort, she will re-enact the webs as best as she can, because this is what she knows. And familiarity breeds comfort. She has not stopped falling, but the webs lend her hope in the moments she brushes against them.

Observer/ Reality Perspective(as pertains to Humanoid Environment):

She is sitting on the love seat, her mother on the old cat clawed, raggedy fold out couch.

Next to the couch is the scarred up nightstand with the clock radio quietly blaring baseball stats.

Her mother's mouth stops moving and she snaps her mind to attention. She is supposed to say something here. "Uh-huh", she manages. Then too late, she realizes her mistake as her mother launches into (yet another) lecture on proper grammar that somehow sidewinds into a shaming session on what an ungrateful little slut she is.

This time, when the mouth stops moving, she is ready. Has dutifully paid attention to every single word. She is ready for the pop quiz.

She uses every ounce of willpower to control her facial muscles so the relief does not register anywhere in her expression, as she mercifully, eventually, scores high enough on the quiz to be granted dismissal.

She walks steadily to her bedroom, and carefully closes the door. Her mother values privacy. Another mystery unsolvable.

She lifts her hands to her face with a vengeance, then abruptly re-orients to grab at her hair instead. Mustn't leave marks. She yanks and pulls, grits her teeth, and screams inside her mouth.

She needs blood though, so she raises her shirt, and claws at her chest. Then she calms herself, shamed silent by her outburst.

She then looks fondly over at the pram with her baby dolls, and exclaims brightly, "Let's go for a walk!"

She is 10 and a half years old.

Session 2 concluded.

Observations recorded.

Awaiting analysis reports.

To be continued...