Two deceased children came into the living room where I was sitting. I could feel that it was a little boy and an older girl, but they weren’t standing next to each other.

“He hit me,” the girl said.

“Why?”

“We wouldn’t listen or do what he said.”

In my mind I was wondering what kind of experiments they had to endure.

She continued, “We weren’t told what the experiments were. Just that we had to hide.”

“Hide? Like from the boogey-man?”

“Yes, so we wouldn’t leave.”

She nods at the little boy, still standing off and away, and said, “They hurt him worse. They would close his mouth so he couldn’t speak and sometimes they would close his eyes.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m eight,” she said while standing straighter and wanting to seem older for her age.

“I wasn’t always around him, sometimes he would run.”

“I’m so sorry they hurt you…”

She showed me an image of her head being shaved. It appeared her hair was blond.

“Is there something you want me to do?” I asked

“Make him not so afraid…”

While she didn’t know exactly what they were experimenting for, she showed me…