Dark Lights

Isolation

I woke up, breathing hard. My bed sheets were drenched in sweat, as was my forehead.

I took in the details of the white washed room. My cell contained very few items, a small single bed, a desk with paper, pens and a few books sprawled across it, a phone for contacting general services and two doors, one lead to a cramped little bathroom and the other, was made of re-enforced steel, 13 inches thick with two padlocks on the outside and a peeping hole, a small rectangle cut out of the door and, obviously, blocked by bars.

I sat on the edge of my bed, brown clumps of ungroomed hair hanging in my face as I stared down at my rusty shackles.

I’d been in this hell hole, I figure, for at least 4 months now, wasting everyday with this same old routine. Wake up, eat, get questioned, go to rehabilitation, do nothing, eat, do nothing, sleep.

Every day, I struggle. I struggle to cope with the pressure, “Why'd you do this, Why’d you do that, who are you working for” and the idiots get more and more aggressive each day. I struggle to sleep at night because know that if I do, some horrific creature or vision will come out to haunt me, to feed on my fear. But most of all, I struggle, to remember.

I woke up one day in a jail cell, not knowing where I had been taken or even who I was. Everyday in the courtyard i would hear the other prisoners and criminals whispering things about when they thought i couldn't hear, things like...

"Do you thinks its true, do think the kid actually did it?"

"Man, I'm like twice his age and I wouldnt even do it!"

"From what i hear, he doesn't even plead his innocence"

"Well Mr brooks told me 'e don't even know who 'e is"

No one went near me, the all just stared at me. Some of them looked puzzled, some looked at me as if i was a joke and some even looked scared.

One day, a slim man, with dark hair, slicked back like it was plastered to his head, and  beady eyes, the colour of cement, wearing a grey pinstiped suit, ironed so hard it looked as if it was made of cardboard, had sat me at a table, hands cuffed behind my back. 

"Apparently we are having difficulty finding your records, so you're just going to have to tell me everything instead. First off, i'll need a name." The man didn't make eyes contact, he just stood there uncomfortably, looking over a few papers. 

"Don't have one" i mumbled

"Excuse me?" he looked up briefly

"You heard me, i don't got one" i said with obvious annoyance

The grey suited man just stared with his brow furrowed. I could almost see the gears in his brain churning.

"What about that shirt your wearing?" he finally said breaking his gaze with the desk

"What about it?"

"Does it have a name on it?" he said sitting down

I took off the red and black flannelette shirt and skimmed its insides for a tag. 

"Found a tag..." i muttered. The man snatched the shirt from me.

"F...R...RLLAA....KE" 

"Gah! gimme that!" i snatched it back and he glared at me.

"Fine, good luck! he scoffed and looked around.

"Blake" i said bluntly

"What?" he looked at me startled.

"Blake, it says Blake" i glared. "What are you deaf?

His face started going red as he screwed it up in anger but just as i thought he going to burst, "Fine then.." he smirked, regaining his composure "Mr Blake it shall be....... Now," he clasped his hands, "Why did you do it" he stared hard at me.

"Do what?" 

"Oh i think you know perfectly well what" he narrowed his eyes

"Nope, i honestly don't think i do" i made a thin smile

"Dont play dumb with me you....you! GAH! I DONT HOW YOU DID IT..." he stood up and raised his fist,"I DONT KNOW WHY...." his face contorted with anger, " BUT YOU ARE GOING TO TELL ME WHY ON EARTH YOU WOULD DO IT AND HOW THE BLOODY HELL DID A KID LIKE YOU MANAGE TO," a large dark skinned security guard cut him off and tried to hold him down whilst a young ginger haired nurse escorted me out of the room.

I don't remember much after that point but i suppose i would have been in a state of shock and confusion and would have tried to make a run for it. considering the bandage on Doctor Pinthro's nose, he, and probably some others would have tried to secure me. I would have thrown wild punches, a few catching the doctor's nose and then they wouldn't have eventually forced some drugs down my throat or knocked me unconscious or  something like that.

From then on, I was considered psychologically unstable and posed a possible threat. I was quickly transferred to solitary confinement and have been here ever since....

A metallic knocking echoed through the room. The door swung open slowly and a stout, poised, middle aged woman wearing clean yet muddy coloured, military type skirt and blaser, entered the room, unreadable expression plastered to her pale face.

“Moring, Mr Blake” she glared down her long nose at me.

“Morning Mrs Gondavich” I beamed. I had no reason to be in a good mood, and in fact I wasn’t in a good mood, I just loved to annoy the lady.

“Don’t you play sweet with me, you twit!” she said sharply, nostrils flaring. “Over here. Right now. and get that blasted little smirk off your ugly head!” She snapped

“It’s called a face ma’am, and quite a handsome one at that!” I teased. 

She scoffed, gripping by my forearm and dragging me down the hall.

“You know, Mrs Gondavich...”

“Shut up, brat” She spat

“Tsk, tsk, Mrs Gondavich, I’m sure there is something about inappropriate language in that fancy little book of yours,” i sighed

“Sure there is, but so far my language has been perfectly appropriate” She smirked.

"You brighten my day, old lady" i sighed

"And you dampen mine, agrogant child" she replied coldy

 “You know, you really remind me of a dream I had the other night” I said, mimicking the whole flaring nostril act.

She snorted and yanked harder on my arm, until we finally reached a large set of old, run down doors that i didn't recognize