Broken[boyxboy]

Melancholy

They say that you can't go home once you've left the nest, no matter how badly you want to run back into your mother's arms. For some people, it was simply a way to push themselves to success. For me, it was the harsh truth. I couldn't go home, and I would probably never see my mother again. Especially after what happened. I pushed the thought from my mind, focusing on the task at hand. Walking down the dimly lit hallway, following a white-clad nurse to what I assumed would be my room. I let out a sigh, earning a glance from my guide.

"Something wrong, Victor?" Her voice was high-pitched, suiting for her appearance. She didn't fit in here, though. Her sweet smile didn't flow with the sea of sadness I've seen so far. I stayed silent, unsure of what to say. "Not much of a talker, I see. That's alright. I won't press you." She stopped walking and pulled out a keyring, unlocking the door in front of us. "This is your room. Bathroom is down the hall. Breakfast is at eight o'clock sharp."

Timidly, I took a step into the room, and the door shut and locked behind me. On the bed was a small stack of clothes, all a varying shade of blue. There was a naked bulb hanging from the ceiling. No ceiling fan. Just a small vent blowing cold air through the room. The bed itself was supported by a simple metal frame and was accompanied by two pillows and a small blanket. I sat on the floor, my back against the wall. My thoughts rushed back to me all at once, and before I could stop myself, I was sobbing.

The memories came flooding back to me. The sound of my mother's horrified screams. The blood that covered my body. The feeling of pure, unadulterated rage. It hurt to remember, almost as much as it hurt to ignore. But I let it happen.

***
It was midnight, and my parents were fighting. My dad had just gotten home, drunk. It had been happening a lot. More and more each week. He thought I didn't know, but I did. He'd been cheating on Mom with some east coast whore. I could see it in his eyes when he came home every night, and he reeked of her perfume. Mom refused to believe it. She loved him, too much for her own good. I don't know if she was finally believing, or if she was just fed up with his excuses, but she was really ripping him a new one. I peeked through the crack in my bedroom door, watching her smack his chest, shoving cell phone records into his face. The anger was already swelling inside of me-I hated to see her like this. He simply waved her away, walking to the kitchen. Until she told him to leave.

His face contorted, full of malice and anger at what she said. I'd never seen him this angry before. He raised his hand, and I ran. I don't know what I was thinking, tackling my own father to the ground that way, but then again, I don't remember thinking at all. I remember seeing red, and I remember hitting him until his face and my hands were bloodied. My mom was screaming at me to stop, but I didn't listen. Before I could think, I reached for the knife from the counter and plunged it completely into his chest, over and over, blood spraying my face. I hated him. I hated him for what he did to Mom,what he did to me.

I pulled myself away, looking back at my panic stricken mother. The look in her eyes made me fall to my knees. I scared her. She was backed against the wall, mumbling a prayer for protection..what had I done?..
***
I buried my face in my hands, my body trembling uncontrollably. I had killed my father, terrified my mother; I'm a monster. This is where I belonged. Locked in a cell like the animal I am. There was no way of escaping my past anymore. No amount of running could save me. They said I was insane, and threw me here. I was told that I wouldn't see my family again, that I was a danger to society. A freak. A monster. The names kept rolling around as the story made the news. Now everyone knew my name, and there was no hiding. I'm sure the letters would arrive soon, if letters are even allowed in a place like this.

I felt completely alone. No one wanted me. Everyone had given up. Everyone, including me.