Heathens-Joshler

1

         

I plead insanity.

    I don't go to prison for what I did, like I was going to. My lawyer...he says there is something he can work with in my heavy, unwavering gaze. He says that there is something behind my eyes that isn't quite right, that they glow in a way that's darker than most people's. He tells me to plead insanity because of it.

    I don't look up from what I'm doing as he says it. I am playing with the ashtray on the table in his office. I am lighting the matches from the pack from my pocket, and letting the flame reach my fingertips before I drop them into the ashtray, and they fade to nothing.

    "You'll plead insanity." He tells me, sounding like he'd made up his mind.

    I flip the ashtray softly and pour all the ashes onto the polished glass surface of his table. I'm not one of those stereotypical crazy people who really love fire, but it just gives me something more interesting than my lawyer to focus on. And it comforts me. And, honestly, I don't care if it makes me look crazy.

    "Are you okay with that?" Asks the lawyer. I don't know his name, so I decide to call him Saul. Saul seems like a good lawyer name. He asks his question like he doesn't really care what my answer is, and like he is prepared to argue with me.

    I don't say anything, just drag my fingers through the ashes on his desk. It doesn't even bother me that they were other people's cigarette ashes, probably Saul's. Him and his cheap suit and his small, dingy office. He seems like a cigarette type of guy, the kind who would smoke cigars if he had the money. The type of guy who started smoking when he first became a lawyer, to deal with the stress, twenty or so years ago, and could never kick the habit. His hair is greying, and is particularly thin on top.

    "Tyler?"

    I drag my fingers, covered in ash, across my cheeks, like I'm putting on war paint. I look him right in they eyes the whole time.

    "Tyler?"

    I can smell the smoky scent from the ash, and it doesn't half bother me. It just sort of caresses my face with it's scent, and I think about smoking. I've thought about smoking a few times, but could never bring myself to do it.

    "Tyler!"

    I open my eyes. Saul is hissing at me, alerting me. I look up. I am in the courtroom. My trial is over. I have been declared insane, and will be sent to a mental hospital instead of prison. Two men stand before me, two tall, burly men, and they cuff me just in case.