Break Me

Crazy?

Another scratch on the wall. Another day wondering when someone will talk to me, when someone will touch me. But no, it's impossible.

No one can touch me.

I haven't seen another person in 425 days. I haven't spoken. I haven't seen the outside world, besides what I see through the tiny cracks in the walls.

A single tray. Old soup, a piece of stale bread, and a cup of dirty water slip through the door slot. I'm grateful that I at least get food. Then again not. If only they would stop sending food. Maybe I would die of starvation and finally end up where I belong. Out of reach where I can't hurt anyone.

I notice under the cup a piece of paper. As soon as I open it I can't tell if I'm scared or happy.

I'm getting a roommate tomorrow. After 425 days I'll finally speak. Finally communicate. I practice saying words, surprised I remember how to talk. I feel the syllables roll off my tongue as if I'm speaking a foreign language. As long as they don't touch me I'll be fine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A single low puff of air on my face and I'm awake. Looking at the face of the person who has awoken me. Auburn hair and eyes so blue they seem as if they want to reach out and help. As my vision clears more I see its a boy. I fall off the bed. Not afraid of him, but how close he is.

"You're a girl." He says with a smirk.

"You're a boy"

"Thanks captain obvious." He says rolling his eyes. "When are we going to eat I'm starving."

Get used to it. I think. " I don't know."

"How long have you been here?"

"425 days." A flash of concern on his face before going back to emotionless.

"And you still don't know when we eat?" He says arrogantly.

"Sometimes we don't get food at all." I say quietly and turn around on the floor and pull out my journal. Before he has a chance to reply I hear the food door slide open and turn just in time to see him burn himself on the tray. "Careful its hot."

"Jeez thanks!" He says sarcastically.

Roommate has burnt his hand on tray. A first of many I'm sure. I write in my notebook. "What are you writing?" He says trying to look over my shoulder. He's too close.

"You can't touch me." I blurt out. He freezes. Mutters something about being stuck with a crazy, and walks away.

Maybe I am crazy. Maybe I do belong here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Roommate is staring at me. Looking as if he wants to talk but is afraid I'll yell at him again.

"What's your name?" He asks me suddenly.

"What's yours?" I question back.

"Will you tell me yours if I tell you mine?" Childish.

"Yes."

"Alex." His eyes, so familiar, so blue.

"Aya."

"Aya. Hm, pretty." He says thoughtfully before adding, "What's your last name?"

"Roth." I say. His eyes.

"Blake."

"What?" I ask.

"My last name." He says. I do recognize him. Fourth grade. He was the only one who looked at me like I was human. I want to ask if he remembers me. He probably won't. I turn away.

"Aya." He says and I turn my head towards him. "Your not crazy."

If only he knew.