Victim of the Mind

        Screaming, that’s what I hear every day. That’s what wakes me up in the morning. What they’re screaming for I don’t know. It could be grief, frustration, or self-pity. It doesn’t matter. No one is coming to help them. They just continue to scream and scream for hours on end until the next bell sounds. They try to fight those who keep them in here, their captors, but it’s no use. In the end they are their own enemy, victims of their own minds.

        The sky is angry, the dark clouds churning overhead, foreshadowing the storm to come. A light drizzle starting to spatter the window with water. This would be the first spring shower of the year indicating the true end of winter. The trees have started to bud, the flowers awakening from their long sleep. Smiles on children's faces for the coming of the Easter season...all drowned by the ugly, dark sky. I could hear the idiots behind me, chatting away about nothing. Half of them don't even know what they’re saying, just mouthing words stupidly, drooling on themselves. I feel sorry for them. They never asked for this, didn't do anything to deserve it I’m sure. Yet here they were, not even aware of their reality.Poor old geezers, they were probably put here against their will. No one would want to come here willingly. The lights are harsh and the walls are blank. Hardly any of them get visitors, not even from people who’ve put them in here. They’re left and forgotten, like and old, broken toy.

    I hear the doors buzz open and I hear talking, recognizing the voices. Not even bothering to turn around, I stay cemented in my seat. Of course I had to be someone who got visitors wen I didn’t want them. They should just leave and save us all the trouble. They knew I didn't want them here, but yet they still come. It’s irritating, but this place could get lonely sometimes, though you’re never really alone. They’re always watching you.

    "Diana." I hear from my left. I turn to see those little brats walking over to me. They shouldn’t be here, they’re too young.  Nathan is just seven years old. Julie, at nine, her long blonde hair reminds me of someone I used to know a very long time ago . . . a different life, a life filled with disappointment.

    "Where's your mother?" I ask, falsely smiling down at them. They pointed over two tables down. There she was, looking as miserable as ever, talking to another one of the old unfortunate souls that inhabited this place. The poor thing, she doesn't belong in this place. Although the self-righteous snob deserves every horrible thing life threw her way. She just can't stop meddling in other people's business. She always thinks she knows best, but just makes things worse. Though, she was just trying to help. She’s beautiful, just like her mother. Well, would be beautiful, if the scar going from the bottom of her ear to her collar bone was less prominent... Whatever happened she probably deserved it, messing with the wrong people.

    "Let's see Mommy." Julie says, grabbing my hand and trying to tug me over to where her mother sat. Keep your hands to yourself. I snatch my hand away. The child’s so annoying, always needing this or wanting that.

    "Before we go see your mother, let Diana tell you a story. You both like stories right?" I inquire, smiling sweetly at them. They’re good kids, smart, curious...naive. Their mother won't approve of this story. If they're here, might as well give them nightmares.

    "Yeah! Can it be about a princess? One that lives in a castle?"

    "No, a superhero!"

    "Quiet. Now, do you want to hear the story or not?" They both become silent, waiting for my tale to start. "It happened right here in Carlisle, Ohio in 1955. Lydia was picking up her daughter from school. She was about your age at the time Julie…”

***

    Lydia was waiting for her daughter to come out of the school so they could walk home together. They lived five blocks down around the corner. She didn’t want her daughter walking home by herself at just ten years old. She enjoyed their walks home together anyway, hearing about Sam’s day and all the new things she’d learned in class.