I was dreaming of something. I can’t remember what it was. Have you ever had a dream that know you were having, but then something woke you and the dream vanished out of your mind like a vacuum sucking up dust bunnies? Well that’s what happened. It was strange because even though I didn’t know what the dream was about, I knew what the emotion of the dream was. Terror.
What awoke me was a the lock on my door turning. The florescent light above my head turned on and with the lock turning, i knew it was the morning. Early enough to be morning, anyway, but without the sunlight. Not that I was allowed sunlight unsupervised.
I stood up from my bed, turned and relieved myself in the stainless steel toilet that was just about a step from my bed. When I flushed it, the flush was the loudest thing ever. Every time, the loudest thing ever.
I opened the door to the corridor and saw the others walking in a single-file line towards the dining room. I waited for everyone to pass, then I joined them at the end of the line.
“Good morning, Matt,” said LaGar.
LaGar was an extremely large black man. He looked even blacker because they made him wear a white orderly uniform. He seemed to be a couple feet taller than me. I think he should’ve been a wrestler, but I think those organizations are extremely racist. They would have had him play up to some stereotype.
I liked LaGar. He was always smiling. The difference between LaGar and most people was that his smile, no matter when it was there, always seemed genuine. I liked LaGar.
I can’t remember exactly what we had for breakfast that morning. That is a big reason why me telling you my story seems strange to me. I can’t remember things very well. Not anymore, anyway. It keeps getting worse with age. I am trying to remember everything exactly as it happened though. I promise.
I can’t remember exactly what we had for breakfast that morning. They usually put things in the food to make us more docile. I thought of myself as pretty docile anyway since they pump me full of pills quite a few times a day. Sometimes, I even get injections. They used to shock me. They stopped that for some reason. That was okay with me because I didn’t like it none.
I can’t remember exactly what we had for breakfast that morning, but I remember most of the people that were in the dining room were finished and leaving by the time I sat down at one of the stainless steel tables. I guess I hadn’t finished my food before the big, hate man came to me. He was one of us. He wasn’t like LaGar. He wasn’t there by choice. He said something to me. I can’t remember what it was. I just remember that he was upset and wanted some of my food. If he wasn’t such an asshole about it, I would have given him everything. I remember that I wasn’t even hungry. I just went to the dining room to go through the motions.
The man slammed a fist down on the table and he cursed at me. I think he was trying to scare me into giving him my food. He didn’t scare me. I just didn’t understand why he was acting the way he was.
I broke my plastic spork in half and repeatedly put it in his neck with the piece that was still in my hand. He got a lot of blood all over my food. I was pretty much done anyway, but it was everywhere after that. I think people were screaming, but I couldn’t hear anything at that moment. I held his bald head down on the table and thrust the broken piece of plastic into his ear.
LaGar came and got me.
He wasn’t smiling.
That made me a little sad.
Every time that I made people bleed, that meant that I couldn’t come out of my room for a prolonged period of time. That was fine by me. I enjoyed my solitude. I don’t know exactly what I did during those times of solitude, but I remember them being something that I enjoyed while they happened.
Then, something happened that never happened before.
One day, the door opened and my doctor, Dr. Castro, came in. He smiled, but his smile never looked like LaGar’s. He smiled and sat on a chair that he brought in the room with him. He had a clipboard, a file and a pen that he kept clicking. I focused on the clicking sound. It was almost as if my eyes were drawing closer to the pen…
“How does that sound?” he said.
I believe the look on my face told him that I wasn’t paying any attention to him, so then he repeated himself, but I am assuming he was paraphrasing.
“These men are outside and they want to talk to you. Will you meet with them?” He smiled his phony smile at me again.
I don’t remember doing it, but apparently I nodded my head because the next thing I remember, LaGar was walking me into the day room. The day room had a television, piano, games, books…
I like books. I like to read them. I like to hold them. I like to smell them…
The day room was empty. I had never seen it empty.
LaGar sat me down at a table in the middle of the room. I felt strange. Something wasn’t right.
I felt better.