River Tam: Open
"Zero. One. One. Two. Three," the girl in the viewing room counted the pattern out, her voice small as she sat on the floor in the very back corner with her knees drawn up to her chest. She'd been given shoes to wear but had since discarded them, preferring to feel her feet against the floor to make sure she wasn't floating. They could see her. She knew they could see her. She could feel their eyes on her, watching. Always watching.
"Five. Eight. Thirteen. Twenty-one. Thirty-four." River Tam continued with her pattern. They'd had to sedate her earlier when they combed her hair, favoring a mild sedative so that she would be able to speak to whomever might be interested in purchasing her later. So, for the first time in approximately 31,536,000 seconds, she looked like she was a girl again in the pretty, floral dress they'd decided their doll should wear. They would all be fooled. They wouldn't know that River wasn't a girl anymore. She was a sword.
Eventually the counting stopped, and the girl slowly rose to her feet, eyes fixated on the massive wall of a mirror. She picked her way carefully across the room like she was trying to avoid stepping on broken glass before she came to rest inches from the mirror. River reached up, pressing her fingertips to the glass and starring at something beyond her own reflection.