UNNAMED

Me

All I remember is trembling not from fear, but external movement. My thoughts and feelings not padded by the soft floor, rather shaken by the bumpy roads. The engine purred gently as trees zoomed past my window. My blurred face looked more contorted than it does in my mind. The radio static is the only noise that echoes through my head and my vision distorted with a visor of water. The radio slowly drifted back and I heard everything. "This is BBC radio 2, my name is Justine Green, Three inmates at the Briarcliff mental asylum escaped last night, two have been caught and remain in custody but one still remains on the loose. If you have any information related to the incident do not hesitate to contact Interpol via the action line. Or if you see the suspect in your area contact your local police immediately. This was the news at 12, for more information as the case unfolds please visit the BBC website" My eyes widened when the sound filled my ears. I peered over my shoulder to see a man wearing a baggy hoodie, with his white knuckles wrapped tightly to the steering wheel sitting across from me. I rolled over once more and pulled my legs tighter and drifted unconscious again.

The only thing I remembered next was my body curled so tightly into itself that I could feel my own heart thumping against my legs. The twigs snapping under his feet, brushing away the branches with his shoulder as he used his body to shield me. I didn't even know who he was, yet his was risking his life to save me. The mud lapped up on my greying hoodie, over the years it had slowly worn down as the day in a dusty cell passed it had gotten worse. Before it was exposed to nothing short of a shitty gaming chair and play parks. He clambered over an old fence, "oh fuck, my foot!" My body slumped to the floor and slowly slid down the fence. As I looked over to him, his foot was engulfed with his hands, a crimson liquid seeping out between his fingers. He shook his head, hobbled over to me, scooped me up and started off in the same direction as before. I looked down to my hoodie and his bloodied handprint stared back, this hoodie is now completely fucked.

A wooden shed dawned in the distance and the man picked up speed, upon closer inspection the door had some weird and mysterious markings on the door. Without any hesitation, he kicked the door in, placed me down and scraped a wooden chair from out of the shadow in the corner and pulled it up in front of my face. He sat down, leaned forward, stared directly into my eyes and said these final mortify words, "Why'd you do it, kid, you had a whole life ahead of you." 

Before I could stop myself I yelled in his face, "There wasn't shit I could've done, I blacked out. It wasn't the first time and it won't be the fucking last."