Broken tooth, plum-size baseball blocking my eyesight, and an empty stomach. I’m thrown in here forced to share the same categorization alongside these…these…barbarians! Can a human like myself experience the God given freedom of society and not entrapment?
It’s not like these halls offer such freedom. Rusty, metal floorboards are suspended over the heads of these poor, hopeless souls. Twenty-seven car robbers, thirty-four stabbers, seven murders, three serial killers, about sixteen or seventeen cases of PTSD, a few “Daddy and Mommy” issues, and one case of Dissociative Identity Disorder.
But this has to be a misdiagnosis, right? I’m only myself and no one else. They have the wrong girl!
Toot toot! Toot toot! “You there.” Toooooot! “Don’t move any further. What do you think you are doing outside of your cell—I-I mean home.”
“Home? Like that six by ten square can ever be called home,” I replied, trying not to sound distasteful. Of course it was Madame “What’s her Face,” running over with her stained knee socks and messy top knot.
“666 how did you manage to step outside,” What’s her Face said. I refused to make an effort in learning her name the first day. “All patients—so-sorry I meant members. I have to stop saying patients. Anyways, as I was saying: all members were required to stay in their corridors until Cleansing Hour.”
“I let myself out. Upset? What jurisdiction do you have? Oh, that’s right. None. Now let me get some air; as you people are unaware of, it gets claustrophobic inside, even with bars as a door.”
“Come with me 666, you’re going back to your home,” the hag cried. She reaches for my arm to drag my body back through the rat infested halls.
“My name is Anna you worthless piece of flesh. Don’t you dare touch me!”
“First the honesty and now that language? Doctor Shula will be pleased to hear you are expressing your feelings. That’s major improvement on your part 666.”
“It’s Anna! Annabella Hendrix! The Mayor’s daughter! I command you set me free at this instant,” I yelled.
My father runs this city! This bucked tooth, hairy Cyclops needs to understand that I don’t belong here. My friends are depressed without my presence. I don’t belong here; I was drugged, poisoned, confused probably. Brian’s death was not my doing. I don’t belong here…
“Now now, no need to get hostile—”
“Why, where has the day flow by? Look at the time.”
Ding….Ding….Ding…. Can this gong just fall and crush this woman so I don’t have to be hear, behind the gates of Hell, listening to her annoying yapping.
“Time to freshen up. Follow me 666.”
“I know where I’m going. Don’t treat me like these monsters.
It’s just for the summer, I thought. A few more weeks here and then I’m free to act like a teenager, to act like a kid, to act like myself. I don’t deserve this kind of torment and abuse. They chain us to these uncomfortable table cloth garments, meant to pass off at clothes. Yuck! Who wears canvas or duck anymore—
Owww my head. Great, time to check off migraine from my To Do List.
“Are you alright 666?”
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just hoping my skull doesn’t crack open from that pipe. That is not the right way to be killed,” I answered.
Shocked, this lady opened the door and begins to talk to this random guy behind a counter. After a couple of minute I supposed the weird lady just looked at me and walked away.
The room is bright enough to be blinded instantaneously. So this is how bright it must be when humans die. Besides being thrown in a wood shredder and distributed in petite mailboxes, Brain went blind too? Cool.
“Who do you have for me Carl,” said this voice coming from behind me
“Doctor Shula, you have Patient number 666 – Annabella Hendrix. Seventeen. Brown hair, Brown eyes. Five foot three. Dissociative Identity Disorder.”
“Ah Anna, so good to see you again. I hear you are opening yourself up more. Wonderful news! Please, tell me more about this phenomenon,” said the doctor.
He looks not much older than thirty-five with those glasses on his head. Imagine hammering an eight-inch long nail through his enormous head, soon flooding with blood as he bleeds internally, unable to comprehend what is going on as his brain now has a hole through it. That would be far more blood that that coming from my mouth during breakfast.
“Um…Annabella? Are you there,” he asked confusingly.
“Who’s Annabella…I’m Kim”