The staff was pleading with me to put the gun down. Steve, the big burly security who I had stolen the gun from, glared at me with hatred through his black and blue swollen eyes.
“Shut the fuck up!” I screamed. I was red-faced and out of breath. My adrenaline was pumping. My white gown clung tightly to my curved body, drenched in sweat. Pasty skin clung helplessly to trembling bone. This wasn’t me anymore. They’d killed me. The dead blue eyes weren’t mine. This knee-length black hair, which used to shine with life, wasn’t mine anymore. They had taken away my dreams; my hopes; my freedom.
I remembered the day they took me away, but I also remembered life. I was a pretty messed up kid, but I had my happy moments. I had lived with my friend Emma after my parents abandoned me.
Emma was a sweet, quiet girl. We’d grown up together. She had strawberry blonde hair to her shoulders, light freckles, and green eyes. She lived in a quiet, middle class neighborhood in a big, white house. Her parents were still married and she had an older brother and a younger sister.
We had always been close, but lately I had become disconnected. I swore that it was just a phase, but no one believed me. Every morning I’d wake up, crawl out of Mary’s (Emma’s sister) little princess bunk bed and go for a walk. I loved to be alone in the early mornings and just get lost in my thoughts.
A few blocks down was the county mental institution, which used to be a high school. I used to sit up on the hill, in the camouflage of the pine trees, and stare down at the fortress, “You’re truly free, Robin.” I said one day while I watched a happy robin build a nest. She’d sing and sing, working tirelessly.
Emma and I had been fighting the last couple of months. She didn’t like how I slacked in school or how I’d walk around in old torn jeans and a tank top all the time. She didn’t understand who I was. It wasn’t my fault. She was also concerned that I was hurting myself. I covered my arms up with black electrical tape. I would walk around and pretend to be like the Crow, like in the comic book. I’d pretend that I was put on earth to avenge a wrong-doing.
As I strolled back to Emma’s house, I thought I might try and get along with her today. I envisioned us getting all girly, hanging out at the mall, and maybe catching a movie. Emma would be going off to college in a year and I didn’t want to lose my friend. I loved her, I really did.
I slowed down as I neared the house. There was a strange white van in the driveway. Emma and her family were talking to two tall, lean men in white. They both had tan skin and short brown hair, like clones. I panicked. I knew who there were. Emma pointed at me as she sobbed into a tissue. I dropped my energy drink as it crashed to the concrete and spilled everywhere, and I ran. I wasn’t going to any loony bin. I hadn’t even gone a block before I was tackled. These guys were good. They carried me struggling to the van. I smiled at Emma, “Looks like our plans for today will have to wait until I’m out.”
She shook her head, still sobbing, “You won’t be.”
My smile melted, “What do you mean?” I asked, trying not to go into the van. They finally shoved me in, “No!” I shouted as they pulled out of the driveway.
Being admitted was just one big blur. I remember their horror-stricken faces as they removed the tape. I had burns, gashes, cuts, bruises, and skin peeled away. As the nurse searched the rest of my body, she found my favorite slashing places—my torso and thighs.
As they asked me questions about my allergies, family history, etc. I couldn’t remember my voice. Once I found it, I couldn’t remember English. I pretended to be a German spy being tortured for knowing too much. I answered, “Nein.” “Ja.” or “Ich weiβ nicht.”
They gave me an injection of some sort and put me in a calf-length white gown before putting me in a small white room with a cot. I wondered how long it would be until they realized I wouldn’t break from their torture. Us Germans are strong, I thought before the sedative knocked me completely out.
A few months later they relocated me to an actual room with an actual roommate. She had short, fiery red hair and eyes so dark they looked black, “Hey, I’m Jael. You don’t talk much, do you?” She sat cross-legged on her bed, heavy metal blaring from two tiny earphones. I shook my head, not speaking.
She hopped over to my bed and sat next to me, “Do you like music?” she asked.
I nodded, still scared, timid and pathetic, “I’ve forgotten what music is like.” I finally spoke, my voice dry and cracked. They were the first words I’d said in six months.
We became friends. She was in here for Manic Depressive Disorder and Schizophrenia. Once a week, for an hour, we got to stroll around outside. While other played basketball I’d gaze up at my old spot in the trees. I often wondered if another lost soul had taken my place and was watching now.
At night, we’d often share a bed and cuddle. We were each other’s support blankets. I loved her like a sister. She was the tape that had mended my tattered life. Things seemed to be going so well. Then the unthinkable happened.
In my sixth year there, I woke up in the morning. Everything seemed normal until I looked down and saw red. I panicked and leaped out of the bed. Jael lay there limply, holding a hand carved blade in her hand. I shrieked, terrified and covered in Jael’s cold, sticky blood. A nurse came running in and saw the mess. She called for back up as she dragged me out of the room. I cried and sobbed for Jael. This wasn’t happening!
Four more years passed like this. I sank deeper and deeper into my own world as they tried to break me. And then I was here; scared and with a gun to my head. Jael was free, truly free from this hell. She was the robin I had long observed in the trees. She was happy and free.
It had been ten years in this place. Ten years! I was twenty six, and I had forgotten what life was truly like. My parents were probably long dead. Emma was probably a pediatrician by now, married, and happy. I sobbed. How did this happen? This wasn’t me anymore.
I looked at everyone. Then I saw Jael, walking up from behind everyone. Her face was shining and happy. She was glowing with joy. I started to laugh and I pulled the trigger, and everything went black. Jael may have been the robin, but I had become the crow.