Here I write you a masterpiece; a piece crafted to withdraw those nightmares you’ve been having. A letter to tell you that I’m locked away in this cell, with only a pen and several amounts of paper. But I know it’s a lie. They lie; the Twins told me so. Angela. That’s the girl.
She greeted me with a tender disturbing “welcome back”. A smile so cynical, it made me aggitated and it frightened the others. But it comforted me in some way. The only friend I had here.
“I knew you’d be back.” Angela murmured. “Did someone hurt you?” as she eyed up my wounds.
I told her of my doings, the fights and the mental pain. She giggled and remained serious. I couldn’t understand her logic, yet it always overwhelmed me. I was too shaken from the drugs to even object to her amusement. That is, whatever she found amusing about my pains.
“They hurt you for sport. Who made these?” She pointed to my scars on my hands and knuckles. I told her I did, but she knew my pattern well, read my facial expression. I bluffed. Semi-lied. “Who made you do it?”
My body tensed and the voices stirred, clouded like black ink in water. I can’t fool Angela. She’s far too smart. She’s given puzzles to keep her mind at ease. I’ve never seen someone work them out so quickly. Yet I’ve never seen someone change so quickly when something is chipped. Imperfection triggers them. I never found the backstory as to why that is.
I gave her the answer. Angela stared, her mind was working around the patterns, reading my face.
“You’re too open, too loving, too caring; you wear your heart on your sleeve too much. You long for the affection you never had, more and more. You seek it quickly because you’re lost without it. Lost without anyone holding your hand, and it terrifies you to be alone. Not because you’re looking for intimacy, but you’re looking for help. Looking for someone to calm your nerves; talk those voices away. When there is no one there, they come out to play.”
Angela knew so much from just reading my facial expression, and every type of puzzle made her work it out quickly. I explained what had happened, what I did and why I did it. When I finished, she shook her head in disappointment, and asked who was there now – she knew that there was someone else – I said your name numbly, and she nodded. I told a little a bit about you, who and where we met. Again, she told me I wore my heart on my sleeve too much.
I spent most of today with Angela, talking about life, pet-peeves and working out the lives of some of the patients and nurses. I later watched her work a 200 piece jigsaw in less than 20 minutes. Amazing.
Here I am now, writing you a message, seeking your comfort, the ghost of your presence. I feel in my heart that you’re thinking about me in your sleep. It’s cold in here, the a/c is far too high, and I hear Mason playing hide and seek with a few of the nurses, and the wails of Bruno. So very homey.
I hear my nurse coming. His name is Wren; he has a wife who’s pregnant. He’s bringing in my medcine to make me sleep.
* * *
I miss you. I’m so tired, and I don’t enjoy staying here. They say they’ll let me out when I’m ready. Angela says “when you’re ready” is used too often to make patients feel there is hope to escape. Angela told me I tried escaping in the early hours of this morning. I don’t remember, I just woke up sore. She said the monster came out and was scared. She watched me through the corridor.
I feel very shaken right now, there’s something wrong but I can’t figure out where the disturbance is. I close my eyes, desperately trying to trace the source. It’s failing and it only makes me more paranoid. I fail to write this ever so neatly for you, but I want it to be perfect.
I wish I knew you were OK. I feel you wondering where I am, but there are theories that hover in your mind: “perhaps he’s busy or tired… nothing’s wrong, I’m sure. Is he OK?”
It’s nearly 3pm, and I’m getting restless. The Twins are telling me they want to come out, they’re bored and their room is getting too small for them.
I may write later.