disastrous

one

day 185

i need to remind myself my name several times a day. my name is luke hemmings and i am here because i killed two men simply by touching them.

(my touch is lethal.)

i don't know what time it is. don't know if it's dark or light out. the lights are always turned off. my isolation cell has no windows. just a door on the far end of the room, cold and always locked - except when they come to feed me, which unsurprisingly doesn't happen a lot.

i haven't eaten in what seems like days. or weeks. i sleep through everything and when i'm not asleep, i'm scratching the walls until my fingernails fall off or screaming at the door or conversing with the unpainted wall. sometimes i sing - but they are not happy songs.

i haven't showered in forever.

i haven't seen the sun or the moon or the sky or the butterflies or the river or my own face in forever.

i have only seen calum in my nightmares.

i am alone.

and i chose this. i chose isolation.

-

day 1

i killed a man with my own hands. no blood was spilled, but the evidence was there, witnesses were there, and the victim was dead. i was standing over his body.

i am murderer.

(my touch is lethal.)

they yelled something i couldn't decipher and forced me on my knees. guns pressed to the back my head like a cruel kiss. they put icy handcuffs around my wrists and dragged me through many hallways and turns and sat me down across from a man. i wasn't listening to him, but i knew what he was saying: i am dangerous. i am a threat. my power - my gift, he kept amending, over and over and over - is too uncontrollable.

so put me in isolation, i said.

i couldn't remember what happened after that. but i remember this: i woke up in an empty room with new clothes on and the lights were off. i called out but no one answered. i screamed until my voice became hoarse, until i lost it entirely, until i collapsed on the floor from sheer exhaustion.

and then i remembered.

this is what i asked for.

-

day 5

i am not going crazy from the isolation. my thoughts keep me occupied and the four walls are watching me. i am alone, but i am alone with my thoughts and they keep me sane. i rock back and forth on the cold floor and repeat the words over and over:

i am not insane. i am not going to lose my mind.

i am not insane. i am not going to lose my mind.

i am not insane. i am not --

the door creaks open. i am on my feet in a matter of seconds. the lights are off so i can't see anything but i hear a sound. i can sense a presence. a smell.

food.

i grope blindly in the dark. i find the tray, find the soft lump that must be bread, wet my fingers when i accidentally bump the glass. i eat messily.

but i don't care. i stopped caring a long time ago.

day 12

they don't feed me regularly. i learned this the hard way. i am on the floor slowly dying from starvation. it's been seven days since i last ate something. i am too weak to even move when the door is open - and closed in an instant, like they're afraid i will try to run.