Life On The Inside

Chapter 10

The man was moved to the psychiatric ward of the hospital the following evening. He thought this might be where he'd be staying. "Excuse me nurse. Are there any police officers here?" The nurse nodded and called them in. It was the same officer from before. "Oh you're here. Did you get in contact with USP?" The man's face conveyed feelings of hope, desperation but also disappointment. "Yea I did. They said she had moved to New York to work in some school. I got her email address though." The man's mood brightened immediately. "Oh. Really? What is it? Can you send an email on my behalf?" The officer smiled and nodded. "I already have sir. She hasn't responded yet but I'll let you know the moment she does." The officer was about to leave but the man grabbed his hand. He kissed it hard and pushed it against his forehead. He was eternally grateful. "Oh god. Thank you so much. You've no idea how much that means. Even if she doesn't turn up or reply I can't thank you enough." The officer finally left, the man was ecstatic. He hoped for the best, but as he had been doing for his entire life, prepared for the worst. As he lay there, he suddenly started reminiscing.

It was the summer before he was to start high school. He tried to spend as little time as possible at home. He hated it. His mum popped drugs like they were M&M's, his step father was abusive, physically, verbally, emotionally. The only escape was when he was at the local park. Some of the older boys there would blast music. They'd always blast Eminem. He loved listening to Eminem. The way he related to his music, it was almost as though they were the same person with their childhood. He'd always thought that.

One morning he woke up to the sound of screaming. His step father was pushing his mother around because she over spent on food and prescription pills. "Stupid fucking bitch. Always popping those goddamn pills. You're a fucking junkie." He slapped her hard, knocking her down to the ground. The young man got out of bed and opened his bedroom door slightly, allowing him to sneak glimpses of what was happening. As much as he disliked his mother, he couldn't allow Steve to hit her like that.

He continued to slap her, firing abuse at her too. It drove the young man crazy. He suddenly burst out of his room, eyes demonic. Fists clenched hard. "Hey. Leave my mom alone you fucker." He pushed Steve as hard as he could, but it did nothing. He reached up and punched Steve as hard as he could. The punch was quite fierce and packed a good amount of power. However, Steve was six feet tall. Over one hundred and eighty pounds. He scoffed before unleashing a powerful slap with the back of his hand. Steve hit with such strength, he slit the young man's eye lid and bruised his eye. Steve then threw a frying pan down at his face, busting his lip open, causing that to bruise too.

His mother had finally stood up. She had picked up the broom stick by the kitchen door. "Don't touch my son you motherfucker." She slammed the end of the brush attachment across Steve's head, knocking him out cold. The entire scene was bloody, messy and painful for everyone involved. "Oh baby. Come here." His mother rushed to his aid, kneeling down and holding him by the head and legs. "That was so brave of you sweetie. But please. Never do that again. I can handle Steve myself."

The man eventually let his mind come back to the present. He wiped the tears from his eyes and face. He drank the bottle of water on his bed. The loneliness started to kick in again. It made him feel so empty and numb inside. He'd spent his life alone. The outsider. The new kid. He wiped the tears away again. He then looked around at his room. He saw a young girl across the room, another older woman to his right. A young man to his left. He looked at them all. Picking out their tiny little details. He smiled at them warmly hoping to maybe make friends. He waved at the girl across the room and she waved back. So did the others. "Do you know how long you're staying in here for by any chance?" He asked the women. She shrugged and put her magazine down to answer him. "No I don't. You'll have to ask the nurse my dear. That's mental illness for you. I don't think I'll be going back to work once they've cleared me. What about you? What do you have outside these walls?" These walls. These walls. Those words played back in the man's head. These walls? She has no idea. The man smiled then looked over at her. "Another set of four walls. A four inch steel door and an eight inch wide window. Otherwise known as solitary confinement." The lady looked back at her magazine. Clearly shaken by what he just said to her. "Don't worry. I'm not getting out any time soon." He scoffed and shook his head. Why even bother? No one is gonna want anything to do with me. I'm a fucking serial killer for gods sake.

The man just gave up. All he wanted was a friend. Even for a little while but the chance of him making any friend were about the same as him getting out prison before he died.