"The reason people find it so hard to be happy is that they always see the past better than it was, the present worse than it is, and the future less resolved than it will be."
-Marcel Pagnolaniel
Daniel PoV
Its been 4 years since I was imprisoned in jail. I call that place a devil's lair. Angst prisoners everywhere darting me like a bait. They cost a lot of trouble and I am a victim of those. They beat newcomers like me, make us their dogs and the worst part is molesters. One of them tried to molest me and what did I do? It's no more good guy for him.
(Short Flashback)
The sky is already dark but here I am digging up this stupid ground. It gave me a headache. They left me outside as a punishment for not respecting their leader. Respect my ass.
My cheeks sore from pain. I had it when they punched me for no apparent reason. I want a revenge. Good for them Im trying my best to change.
"Hey there little guy." I felt a weight banged my shoulder. I tilt my head and saw a rusty old guy caressing my shoulder.
"What do you want?" I told him bluntly. I moved backwards trying to protect myself.
"Come on, little fella." He smirked showing his golden teeth. You dirty old hag.
"You're disgusting." I furrowed my eyebrows and tighten my grip.
"It's for your benefit kid. Aren't you exhausted on being a punch bag in this jail?"
"Get out of my way before I could punch you."
"If that's what you want." He grabbed a knife out of his back then ran towards me.
He dug his knife in my left arm, causing me to groaned in pain. Blood started running down my body.
"Told you." He whispered right infront of my face.
This guy I want to kill him.
I punched his face really hard that made him fell off the ground. I immediately pulled the knife on my left arm and shove it on the old man's cheek. I heard him moan in pain. His screams are music into my ears. That's right, scream! Blood started streaming in his face.
"ARGGGH!" He screamed on top of his lungs. I shove his head with the shovel to make him stop.
"No one can here you." I said. " So stop!"
I could see him crying like a baby and coughing with his own blood.
"Serves your right."
(End of flashback)
He didn't died instead after a few weeks, he was found dead in his bed showering with his own blood.
One of their gang leader accused me for killing. I tried my best to tell them I did not. They didn't believed me, so we fought. I severly punched three prisoners that made them in a coma.
Instead of being a good guy I've become more aggressive because of those experiences.
Im not sorry for what I've done, actually Im thankful. They sent me in psychiatric institution. Everyone knows mental hospitals are terrifying prisons for insane people, a small room covered with padded walls, flickering lights, and evil nurses drugging patients.
But their are wrong, it's more pleasant here than jail. Mental ill people are more civilized than those in prison, well sorta.
Im not wearing a srtraight jacket instead a leathers. Im allowed to read books in minimum of three unlike in jail.
I've also met different kinds of patients with different kinds of disorder. There is this one guy, making out with his chair in the cafeteria and a middle-age woman punching out of nowhere telling us about aliens and monsters lurking around.
What I hate in this institution are group gatherings and activities. A story full of drama, whenever it's my turn I raise my hand as a signal to pass.
==
Im reading a novel called To Kill A Mockingbird inside my cell. It's so peaceful here, I can focus on reading.
Then, a loud knock bang in my door. I saw two pair of blue eyes peeking, it was Dr.Hemmington. He entered my room smiling.
"Goodmoring." He greeted firmly.
I kinda like this guy, I feel relax whenever he interacts with me. One of a kind therapist.
"Shall we start?"
"Sure." I said with a smile. He sat on the chair next to me and grabbed his notes then wore his eyeglasses hanging in his white coat.
"How was your day Mr-" He looks down on his notes flipping the pages.
"Daniel Andrews." I said. He easily forgot names.
"Oh yes, yes." He glanced back on me. "Mr. Andrews, so how was your day?"
"Nothing new, just the same old happenings."
"Really? Well okay." He started jotting down my answer. "Are there anything bothering you right now?"
"Its just that, Im kinda bored participating in group gatherings."
"But you tend to listen right?"
"Sort of."
There he go again, writing.
"Can you feel any sympathy towards other patient's stories?"
Now that's a dangerous question.Im not really into their past but I shall tell him yes.
"Yeah. " I said with a frown. "It's pretty sad, they have to experience those tragedies."
I saw him nodded and continued writing. "How about you Mr.Andrews, what do you feel on their reaction on your sharings?"
"Well, actually." I paused. "I don't discuss it."
"But-why not?" He squinted his eyes. "Andrews, we doctors and nurses are here to listen."
"Really?" I said sarcastically.
"Do you mind telling me your story? Don't worry, Im here to help."
He closed his book and kept it on his pocket. Then he nods giving me an encouragement look.
"Trust me, Mr.Andrews."
I left out a sighed. "Actually, there is this one girl I loved. Her name is Lira."
"What about her?"
"Things gotten wrong when I met her." I paused for a second. "I kidnapped her."
I didn't saw any shocking reaction from him. What am I talking about? he's a psychiatrist.
"You know Andrews." He paused. "You're not the only patient or even a normal person outside, suffering from those tragedy."
Guess, he heard a lot of stories from his patients before, crazier than mine.
"I know." I sighed. "I just can't imagine living a normal life again."
"Is that what you really think Andrews?"
Come on, I had enough of these questions.
"Look at me doc." I point myself. "My life is broke. Im a psycho,criminal and most of all a murderer. Im not normal. My reputation is totally loss."
"Well Andrews." He comforts me by tapping my hand. "Here's the only thing I can advise to you."
"Hmm?"
"Bad memories are key to success."
I smirked at him as a response.What is he talking about? I really hate when he makes me puzzled.
"You'll eventually know what I have told you someday."
"Thanks then."
"Well, it looks like I had to go. I need to visit another patient."
Oh great, he's leaving.
He stood up and offered his hand.
"Goodbye Mr. Andrews."
We had a handshake after that.
Bad memories are key to success? Really huh...
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To be continued....
Thanks for reading.
Sorry sa errors.