Save Me.

Caught.

On the night I brutally murdered my father, I was caught just 4 hours later. I looked crazy, my hands stained in blood, my shoes looking extremely dark from his blood, my jeans and t-shirt covered. The officer, Deputy Day, drove past me then slowed down as it was around 3 a.m. and stopped me. I don't know why I stopped. I could've killed him too but the Voice had left me alone. So alone. I only could offer a weak explanation as he pulled his handgun and called in more deputies. Within 15 minutes, I was on the ground, hands handcuffed, legs crossed together and a deputy's knee on the back of my head. I heard one say
"Jesus Christ. He's only thirteen."
And another reply,
"It doesn't matter. You should see his old man. You can can't even recognize him."
Hearing these words, I couldn't control myself. I laughed, but what they didn't see was the tears in my eyes. How weak am I? Crying for the bastard who wasn't a good person, but they don't know that right? All they know is that I killed my father and I'm fucking nuts. God, this position hurts. Why can't they just pick me up already?
As this thought enters my head, they have me uncross my legs then they pick my up. They walk me to a squad car but as they put me in, a particular officer bangs my head on the door. A deep, cold rage fills me and I look at him.
"I'll enjoy hurting you." And I laugh again, softly this time. He ignores me and pushed me in, hands behind my back and they drive.
~
~
~
A few days later, I've been in a cell. Isolated from any contact, whether deputy or lawyer, but now that I think of it, who'd want to represent a nut? Here's who. Ms. Julia Wilmar. A 30 year-old blonde who's aim is to have me placed in a mental institution. Why? Well she thinks I have potential to get better.
How the fuck can this child get a second chance after he's murdered his dad, while his mother watched? He's a fucking animal. He deserves to rot in a cell.
That was my first thought when she explained her intentions. She also explained that she understands my motive. Looking at her,I laughed and whisper,
"Look lady. You think you do, but you don't. I'm crazy. I'm a sociopath. I don't regret killing the bastard. I'm curious on why you think I can get help though."
"You have a chance to get better, Mariano. I suggest you let me help. I've seen the photos taken of your scars. I've heard from your mother what your father did to you and your mother. He was sick. Just as you are," she replies.
I look at her concerned face. "Fine. See if you can save me from a cell."

And so begins the year long battle to save me from myself. I didn't tell them about the voice. It's been quiet for months now but it's replaced by other voices. Mostly my dad and unrecognizable people. They have great ideas, but maybe I shouldn't take their advice.

For now.