Mental Detainment

CHAPTER ONE

1. Code of conduct

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You tell him to walk in a line, straight and orderly, walk faster boy, not too fast, stop, you can't see him clearly when he moves in a blur. His laid-back smile makes your blood boil and you can't bare the fact that it never is directed towards you.

You tell him how to think and how to speak and how to feel. You tell him to write on the lines, not the top one though, that's reserved, and make sure that all his t's are crossed and his i's are dotted and his titles are underlined. You rip out his page when he draws the line seventeen degrees clockwise and move him to the font of the room because such behavior cannot go unmonitored. But really, it just brings him into your view.

You snatch away his pen when he writes with too much pressure or illustrates his skin, he's poisoning himself, you say, (I don't miss the way you brush your fingers against his). You tell him to walk on the right with the tie at his throat, tighten it you say, tighter you stupid boy, it's still too loose, seven stripes boy, and button up at the collar, yes boy, you want him to choke. You tell him to tuck in his shirt and fasten them laces, double-knotted with extra aggression and pull them socks up and roll down those sleeves, he'll crease the cotton that his mother spent time smoothing out, you say.

His hair is falling in his eyes and somehow your vision is affected, you give him a week to sort out his disgrace. You want him to wear a belt, his trousers aren't exactly three inches above his pelvis, a strap of leather, oh, with a silver buckle, it has to be silver, make sure it's square too, you instruct. He must rid off this issue.

You don't like the badges on the lapels of his blazer either, so you confiscate them and perhaps he can collect them after you're satisfied with his hair and his shoes - you couldn't overlook those scruffy things, you want them polished too.

How wrong it was of you to assume that he'd listen, to you.

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