There's a room, probably not as far away from where you're sitting as you'd think, where a young boy of about nineteen years of age sits. His left foot is tapping, and he consistently runs his hand through the shaggy blond hair of his. It's finally time.
Down the hall and to the right is another person. Once a boy and now a man. Seven years of schooling for a degree that's landed him in a job where doing the right thing feels wrong. A doctor, but not the kind he ever envisioned himself to be. He beckons the nurse and tells her,
“Send him in.”
Back to the first room, the boy hears his name and gleefully stands up. Reminding himself that after his appointment he is free to go. Free after three years of serving a sentence he never deserved.
The doctor didn't introduce himself, didn't ask the patient for a name. It was all in the file, it was all pointless anyways. Another young soul who was troubled too early in life. Probably misunderstood. Most definitely unfortunate. This patient, with unkempt blonde hair, darkened eyes from the prison he was in—both physically and mentally, was only a boy. According to the file, he had been sixteen when he was accused. Of what, the file didn't specify. The doctor didn't exactly care to know.
There was only one thing he needed to know.
The boy smiled, ignorant. “The nurse said I needed a checkup before I'm released. So I'll start off my freedom with good riddance?”
“Large words for a young man raised in juvenile detention.”
“I'm not stupid.”
The doctor raised his eyebrows.
“I know you think I'm nothing but a criminal. You think I murdered that man three years ago. I didn't.”
His eyebrows got higher.
“You must hear that all of the time, but it's the truth. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Framed I was. See, what had happened was I was going to a friends house,”
The doctor was listening as he took the patients pulse and heart rates. Of course, it wasn't necessary, the act was just for the patient.
“And I didn't have a car yet, I had just turned sixteen. So I had to walk. My mom knew I was walking, and told me to take a knife with me. The streets aren't safe, and I was going to be on them at night.”
A nod from the doctor to confirm he was paying attention. He was still listening as he added some data to the computer.
“I wasn't supposed to go down the alley, I knew that. But the alleyway was quicker. I'd get there faster. It seemed so important to speed everything up. That's how it felt anyways. Mom always warned me to never take the alley, and especially at night. I didn't listen to her. I should have. That's the one thing I did wrong. But I'm sure you know the rest from here.”
In truth, the doctor didn't. But now he wanted to know since the boys story was so curious, so genuine. Unlike any other story he's ever heard on his job.
“Actually, I don't.”
It was the patients turn to be surprised.
“Well I'll tell you then, I'll tell you just what happened. I turned down that alley, was no more than five minutes away from my friend's house when a man—he was such a large man!--came running up to me. He was screaming bloody murder crying for his life. I didn't know what was going on until suddenly another man came up behind him. That's when I noticed they were both covered in blood. I was a deer in headlights. The attacker noticed me and the last thing I remember was getting knocked out. When I woke up I was laying on my back with a bloody knife in my left hand and a cadaver to my side. I screamed and when the neighbors heard me screaming? Well of course they called the police.”
“Didn't the police listen to your story?”
“The police didn't listen to a word I said. Not that I blame them. They had witnesses report the screams from the night before. I was holding a knife with the victims blood. All the police had to say was I was knocked unconscious during the fight and that was that. I've been behind bars ever since.”
The doctor felt a twinge of guilt. More than guilt, he felt downright wrong. But he had no option, just like the police. It was his job. He was part of society, he had to “make it better”.
“Well, at least you'll be free now.”
“You mean I passed, doc?”
“You passed, there's just one more thing I need to do. I need to check your heart. Sounds like you've been through a lot, it's amazing that's it's held on this long.”
“To be honest I've held on for my mom. I'll never go against what she tells me ever again. I want to let her know that I'm sorry.”
The doctor could barely handle the pain anymore. He willed himself to connect every last wire. It felt like the longest procedure even though he preformed it quite often.
“Son, could you tell me your mother's name?”
“Clara.” He smiled. “Clara Smith.”
“Thank you.” The doctor said, stone faced, as he flipped the switch on the machine his patient was now hooked to.
In a second, the young boy was dead. The doctor made a mental note of the woman as he unhooked the wires on the machine.
“Send the next one in.” He told the nurse.
