A/04 - The Beginning

A/04 - Eight (8)

I hover next to the wall, look up in to the glass panel and it all comes rushing back to me. My parents, the woods, the kidnapping, watching the video, training. It all flutters like little butterflies in my head, aimlessly knocking back and forth around my skull, the empty space there left to inhabit. Thoughts linger and drift but never really settle in my head. I feel as if I’m on a train and it won’t stop, speedily prying me away from my destination. Taking me further away from where I want and closer to where I can’t go. Go … Move. Leave the space you have recently inhabited. Leave the past behind is something I can’t seem to handle nevertheless do.

I slept well, but not thoroughly. I wake up in sweats constantly and it feels as if I haven’t slept for days. The bed sheets are always soaked in sweat when I wake, and my eyes have attained deep bags of purple underneath them like purple Christmas tree bulbs, and I can feel how tired I am for the first time. The adrenaline has stopped rushing through my veins and I find my body can’t handle too much movement. The stress of the escape has really been getting to me … The past few days have been silent mayhem. Samarius visiting me but not truly paying attention to what I have to say. This escape seems silly, a thick and conceited idea emerging from the cave of someone’s insane mind. Conceited? How, you might ask? Never a say in anything, I have. I just seem to be told what to do and when to do it, which reminds me of a child lead by its impatient mother. Always what the mother wants to do. Always.

Yesterday frightened me, with the boy at the cafeteria. He seemed so focused. So entertained by the idea of these people, or whatever they are coming to the asylum. I became scared and I ran away. Now it plagues my mind, all night, every second. What’s coming? What haunts me more is the bruising I saw around the eyes of that boy. That’s not natural, obviously, and I doubt he could’ve gotten in to a fight. Tranquilisers seem to be an important source as water here. This doesn’t seem normal, regardless of the peculiarity of this place.

I sit on my bed now, looking in to the white wall, my thoughts consuming me. The bed sheets have been replaced during breakfast, like so every morning. Breakfast was also tasteless, and the small piece of toast I managed to sneak from the cafeteria had some taste. I remember when I visited France for the summer and the bread my parents used to buy – how beautifully it melted in my mouth, how it’s warmth flooded me on a bitterly cold day. I loved the smell of the bakers in the morning and how fresh the long sticks of bread used to taste when they came out of the oven. Before this all started, I had longed to work at a French patisserie or baker. I remember getting up early to watch as they placed the desserts in the front window of the tiny shops in side alleys. I savoured every last bit of France I could, it was my favourite place. Being so wrapped up in my thoughts I hadn’t heard Caspar enter the room.

“Jane?” I shot around to face him. Where was Samarius? Caspar sensed my question and looked towards the ground.

“Busy …” Is all he says, placing his tablet next to mine on the desk. I turn my head back to face the wall, slightly disappointed. Just when I needed answers, he disappears. The boy’s face remains etched in my mind and I wait for Samarius’ return to ask him about it. Would Caspar have the answer, though? I decide not to ask.

“You have physical today,” Caspar gently says. “Samarius will be joining us though,” he perks up. I smile slightly. Perhaps Samarius is in a better mood today. I’m beginning to become sick of his constantly sullen attitude, lately. It’s always nice to talk to someone, but talking to those who aren’t interested is even more of a bore.

“Where is my coat?” I ask, suddenly remembering it. Caspar’s face lights up and he reaches for something inside his pocket. He unfolds a small white square and hands it to me. I look up at him dumbfounded.