Where I belong

Just eleven hours ago, thirty year-old John Michael knew where he belonged.

He belonged behind fifteen tall bars and three pale walls, he had three meals a day, and at 5:00PM they let him out to play sports. John Michael had lived that way since he was fifteen, at first he hated the place, but as time went by he learned it was what he deserved, perhaps way more. Now he stood under pale blue skies. Eleven hours ago he knew who he was, now he knew nothing at all.

 At 4:30PM, as John Michael rested on his hard bed a young policemen went to get him “get out, time to leave” John Michael didn’t know what he meant exactly, but he stood up and walked behind him. The young policemen took John to a small office where Detective Johnston, a round-belly bald man waited for him “take a sit” he said, and John Michael did so. Detective Johnston explained how fifteen years had already passed, so his time was over. He said the doctors and psychologists agreed it was right for him to leave now. A rush of feelings invaded John Michael’s head, he had always known one day he'd have to get out, but it was too soon “What am I supposed to do?” John Michael asked nervously, as his fingers tapped a little rhythm on his lap “Everything has been arranged, you don't have to worry. When you get out you won't be John Michael anymore” Detective Johnston handed an ID card to John, his face was on it, but next to it ‘Luke Rogers’ was written in bold letters. “You will have to report every last Sunday of every month to prove you're working and making enough money, and well, to prove you haven't done anything wrong…” John Michael felt his throat turn dry, his lungs go out of air, and his stomach shrink. “We got you a job downtown in a café” John's thoughts raced through his mind so fast he was forced to close his eyes “What are you waiting for Luke? Go get your things, you're free”. 

 John Michael had always dreamed of not being John Michael, he’d always wished of being free. But not free in a literal way, he thought, just free from his guilt. As he walked out from that fortress that had protected him from life for so long, he repeated in his head what Detective Johnston had told him “Do not even think about contacting any of your friends, family or Olivia’s parents. You don’t exist to them anymore. You’re not John Michael, you’re not a criminal, all that wait has now been lifted off your shoulders. If you want friends, make new friends. If you want a family, make a new family. “ He said all of it as if it was so simple the wait has been lifted off your shoulders, no, the wait was still there, the pain, the guilt, the burden.

 John Michael stepped back into life feeling lost. Everything seemed so different, yet the same. Detective Johnston told him a policeman would be waiting outside for him to take him home. But John Michael was confused with this words, his home was a 2x2m² cell, fifteen tall bars and three pale walls. As he looked around, he couldn’t find the policemen Detective Johnston had mentioned. Maybe they forgot about him, he thought. He waited for ten more minutes, but no one showed up.

 Everything seemed so unreal, John thought about it being a dream. But it couldn't be, his dreams where never so sweet. Without thinking about it twice, carrying a small bag on his back, he started to walk down a pavement road, but with every step, the bag he carried became heavier, and the day became darker. Eventually he stopped, threw the bag to the ground and clenched his jaw. He didn't have a clue about where he was, all he could see where a few cars driving by. His breaths became heavier and deeper, his head started to ache “I don't deserve this,” he whispered “I don't deserve any of this.”

 In his fifteen years behind bars, never had John Michael felt this lost. He always knew he was there because of what he had done. Now he was free, or at least free according to the law. But nothing would ever free him from what he had done; nothing would ever free him from losing control. Feeling helpless, John Michael continued to walk for hours, leaving his bag behind. He walked until the sky was pitch-black and hundreds of little lights appeared above his head “stars” he remembered, he hadn’t seen stars in a long time.

 He walked until the road met a highway, huge and wide. John remembered how cars and trucks rushed through highways, hurried and reckless. But it was 3:30AM and not a car passed by, just a few trucks drove slowly through the night. So John Michael stepped into the highway, looking carefully to his left and to his right to make sure no one would see him, and walked straight into the middle of the spacious street. He sat down and felt the cold pavement touching his fatigued body, what he was doing was dangerous, he knew. A truck drove right by him, missing his body by an inch, but instead of getting scared and leaving, a wide smile appeared across his face and he laughed for the first time after years of not producing that sound.

 “This is what I deserve,” he thought, as he now lie on the brisk road with his eyes closed “I deserve to feel lost, I deserve to be no one. I deserve helplessness and guilt.” John Michael heard the sound of a dashing truck coming nearer and nearer, for some reason he knew this time the truck wouldn’t miss. His fists tightened and a blinding light embraced him “This” he took one last breath “Is where I belong.”