Bars and White

Chapter One

The familiar clang of doors sliding open woke me. Over the past few years it's been a very reliable alarm clock, not that I had anything to get up for. Having been here for so many years, I don't even remember when I just stopped caring. About the world, about my life, everything really. I heard the shuffling of multiple feet and imagined the hundreds of orange suits descending the stairs. Soft murmurs and whispers floated through my bars and I knew they must be planning some petty escape. Fools. In all of my years here, hundreds of inmates had attempted to break out. Every one of them were killed. No one ever made it past the fence, and even then, there was a lake to swim across. I wanted to scream at the idiots. I wanted to bash their heads in. To hurt them so bad because although they were trapped here just like me, they still had life. Real life. Not like me; the shell of a man. And as I sat there drowning in my own hatred, my fingers fisted around the bars which I would never pass. The truth was, while the others could go ahead and scheme up useless escape plans, my door was not open. In fact it hadn't been open in such a long time that I wasn't even sure it did open.

The footsteps slowly died away and I assumed everyone must be in the cafeteria now. Sometimes I get glimpses of my past in my mind. But the thoughts and memories stay locked up because remembering brings the pain. I've mastered the art of shutting myself away from everything in the world. These days all can see is those grey bars. But even as I sit, the epitome of serenity, I know my façade is absolute bullshit. I know that when the sun sets and everyone goes back the monster will come back and I will be here waiting. The truth is, I lied before about the thoughts and memories staying locked up because there is always a crack and a moment flashes in front of me eyes. The smile, the tears, the blood. It scares me to no end and the nights that the memories come are always the worst.

I turned my mind back to the cafeteria and the thought of food makes me hungry. I lifted my shirt to examine my stomach. It looked the same as yesterday and the day before; completely caved in and bony. My ribs stuck out unhealthily and I barely had the strength to move. Which is why I stayed on my poor excuse of a bed all day. The pungent odor of rotting fruits and urine hung in my cell and I grimaced at the remains of a worm infested peach. That was what they gave me for dinner yesterday. It was completely inedible. I was starved enough to try the cleanest looking section, but ended up puking it all out. Knowing the janitors here, my cell was going to smell like vomit and bugs for a pretty long time.

After a few more minutes, or was it hours, I heard the bell signaling that visiting hours were open. Not many people came to visit. I mean, you couldn't expect murderers, bombers, robbers, and mentally insane people to have a lot of caring family members. At least the others had each other despite everyone's firm belief in solitude. I wasn't allowed out of my cell, not that it bothered me. In fact I was perfectly content to remain alone until the day I die. I would just stay here and waste away.

The thing is, I'm not allowed out because they're scared of me. They say I'm dangerous and refuse to get close. I've been sent to so many shrinks and therapists but they aren't trying to help. They want to be heroes. They want to be the ones to cure me. As if I'm some disease. But that's why the world is hopeless. No one could see the glaring truth. Which is why every time someone tried to ask me what was wrong I would laugh. It was such a peculiar question. What was wrong? Oh I don't know, the world? And so doctor after doctor sent me back, haunted by my hysterical laughter. I see it as a compliment really. The truth is, I'm quite famous. The local newspaper even has a corner reserved just for me. Every day the headlines change, but if you flip to the last page and squint at the tiny box in the upper left corner you'll see my name.

The bell rings again and I know visiting time is over. I still have no idea why they even allow anyone in here. No one comes. Ever. But the shuffling begins again and cells open and close. The days always pass in a blur. You'd think that being trapped in such a place would surely drive anyone insane but that's just it. I've been numb for so long that my mind has been twisted out of shape. Sometimes I wake up and I see new scratches and stains on my cell wall. The dents and ridges seem to crawl towards me and morph into a face that chills me to the bone. It's always the same face. I never want to remember that face again but it sits there on my wall, clear as day. If I stare too long, the monster emerges and even though the monster comes every night, I would appreciate not having to be with the monster more than I need to.

Night comes soon and the torches are put out. Yes we do have torches. No one wants to waste electricity on us. Darkness engulfs me and I stand to meet the monster. I walk right up to the bars and stare at the teeth smiling back at me. Those horrifying teeth. Filled with so much joy and happiness. I don't look away because if I do then I'll surely perish. I wind my hands around the neck of the monster and begin to wring the life out of the heinous creature. The smooth but hard skin makes my hands ache and the monster doesn't even budge. I get mad as I do every night and begin punching and kicking. I fight long and hard but the monster laughs. The laugh shakes me to my bones and a cold sweat breaks out.

When morning comes, I am in my bed. Bruises and cuts run across my body and hands. My knuckles are broken and I wince when I move my hands. The monster is nowhere to be seen but I know it is still there and hiding. It has curled itself into one of the bars. I can see that it is in the one on the far left. It has a darker hue. I'll be ready when the monster emerges again tonight. But I say that every morning. And the monster always wins.