Mary Had a Little Lamb

Stella sat in the corner, cringing from the noise. She shoved her fingers in her ears, but that wouldn’t stop the ringing, the song. She gritted her teeth in pain and beat her head again the wall. She had to get away from it, from the infernal sound that played over and over in her head. She shook with an unknown force, and looked around at the plain white walls with very little recognition. She threw herself across the room onto her bed screaming, pounding her mattress with her fists. The sound that came from her throat was almost animal sounding, it was so inhuman.


She began to hyperventilate and yelled, “STOP IT, PLEASE, STOP THE MUSIC!” She cried, pleading for the torture to end. She shoved her face in the pillow, wanting to die just to stop hearing it. She pulled at her hair, putting her palm against her ears and began chanting nonsensical words. She took a deep breath, pulling her hands from her ears to her legs, pulling them up in a fetal position as the song faded slowly. She began to make hiccups from her crying and laid on her side on her bed, staring at the wall. She began to silently sing to herself, tunelessly. “Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb. Mary had a little lamb who’s fleece was white as snow.”


The students stared in amazement at what they had just witnessed, but pulled their eyes away from the scene for a moment to jot down some notes. The clinical professor cleared his throat and turned towards the students. “Subject’s name: Stella Beth Griffin. Age: 13 years old. Stuffers from: PTSD”


One curious student raised his hand nervously. “Yes?” the professor directing it towards the young man. “Sir, what happened to her?” he asked. The professor took a deep breath before starting.


“Stella grew up in a small town with her mother, father and younger sisters. They were a seemingly normal family, but for the most part Stella’s father was out of town and their mother was quite abusive.”


The same student spoke up. “This is the result of long term abuse?”


The professor shook head and sighed. “When Stella was eleven, on May 2, 2007, her mother went out of control. “ The man took another quick breath and said “Her mother drowned her two sisters, while Stella watched. We found out before this,” he pointed to her in the room “happened to her. She had hid in a closet across from the bathroom when she heard her mom getting upset. Stella had watched it all, but there was one thing that was most disturbing.”


The students leaned in to hear better.


“Her mother was singing Mary Had a Little Lamb through the whole crime.”


The student wore a mask shock as they looked back at Stella, still singing the song that had, and would forever haunt her.


The professor looked down, ashamed. “I’m afraid this will forever been Stella.” He took a deep breath, pushed up his glasses and began to walk away. “Come students, we must continue.” The students took a last look at the little girl and followed him.


Everyone was almost gone excluding the same young man who asked the question in the beginning. He slowly approached the small window and looked at the girl. She was sitting up now with a small doll in her hands. She looked so peaceful, so normal. He could almost imagine her being a happy child, until Stella picked up the doll a made a dunking motion while crying, singing Mary Had a Little Lamb. The man opened his mouth in complete shock and turned to follow the group, not giving a last look to the little girl.