Picture Frame

The Color Gray

I woke up in a daze, my eyes glazed over. It was bright; my squinted eyes could barely see Baxter. He was playing with my tail. My tail was a piece of my birth father that I couldn't erase. Half Imp, half Elf. What a disgrace. I felt my tail twitch, and Baxter flinched. He looked over at me, his face was wet with tears. "Anna?" he said quietly, and leaned closer. I mumbled something even I couldn't understand. "Thank Lua..." I could hear his voice get wobbly. He grabbed my hand, held it tight, and sobbed.

I produced a small, woeful smile. "You're such a crybaby, Bax," I said in a weak and scratchy voice. It stung to speak-- my throat was raw thanks to all the stomach acid I had coughed up.

Baxter came to his senses and jumped up and yelled, "Nurse! No- wait, Ms. Lee!!". I turned my head towards the doorway. I watched a frail looking young man and an elf rush through the door. As they got closer, I saw the man was a sprite in white loose clothing and, apparently, my nurse, and the elf was my mother, Carol Lee. My mother grabbed my hand, and Baxter's hand was still tightly clinging to the other. Everyone around me seemed to be sobbing-- well, except for the sprite. I closed my eyes again, feeling a bit better. Baxter on my left was practically cradling my hand, and my mother on my right was praying with both hands wrapped around mine.

I had been awake for no more than an hour when I realized my hands were cuffed to both sides of the bed. I looked around. I was surrounded by white plaster walls, with a window on the wall to my left and a picture hung on the wall in front of me. With my senses back I looked over at Baxter, who was fast asleep, yet still holding my hand. My mother had left to talk with the doctor, I suppose. I scooted backwards in the bed to sit up, trying not to disturb my best friend. I wanted to ask him why I was restrained, but he was so at peace. I looked at our hands. Our wrists still had the friendship bracelets we had made when we were younger. The bracelets were made of twine, and old beads I had found in my mother's back room. I giggled a bit, "We're such dorks." At that slight sound, Baxter woke up with a snort. He had drool dripping down his chin, and half his hair was plastered to his face. "Whoa... Morning, princess" I laughed at him. I lifted my hand as I laughed, in reflex, and stopped with the loud chang of the cuff against the steel bar of the bed. I looked up at Baxter, "What happened?" I asked, confusion lacing my voice.

Baxter explained what I had missed to the best of his abilities. I gawked at him. I was in shock. Me? A murderer? How? Why me? I stuttered, "How- Me? A murderer? How could I have murdered someone when just seeing a drop of blood makes me sick!" I tried to throw my hands up in anger, but they were restrained by those cuffs. I stared at Baxter and he stared at me. We both couldn't believe it. We both didn't want to believe it.

"Where is that bitch who murdered my husband?" Baxter and I stared at the open doorway where the voice was coming from. I connected the dots in my head. 'Husband? Wait that would make her...' I swallowed hard. The thin and chiseled looking elf stomped into my room. That wretched being was the politician who gave birth to me. My eyes darted from the doorway down to the brown-tinted bed sheets. I could see Bax doing the same out of the corner of my eye, examining the woman with quick glances. She was bony with cakey white, almost translucent looking skin; her sandstone hair was slowly graying. She looked bland and distasteful in her thin dress, traditionally worn by higher-ups. The scrawny elf marched to my bedside and stared at me, her eyes digging into my skull. I couldn't bring myself to look up at that woman. After scanning me with her piercing eyes, she stepped back in realization. "Lillian?" I heard her monotone voice mutter. I flinched; I hadn't heard that dreadful name in 15 years. Baxter looked up at me, then at that appalling elf, and back at his lap in panic. The politician cackled, "Did you resort to murder to get back at us? How pathetic." Her voice got stern again. I clenched my fists. I knew that woman was jealous of me and my success.

My birth mother and the town's police had decided my motive for murder, and concluded I was the only one who could've done it. I murdered my birth father, out of jealousy, inside my painting so he couldn't escape and no one could get inside to stop me. Tears formed in my eyes. There was no one in that room with me that I could lean on. It was empty. Baxter had run off to get back to the manor before his master came back, and my mother was arguing with the politician and the police to prove my innocence. "What am I supposed to do?" I asked myself in tears. My past was back to haunt me.

My eyes were puffy, red, watery. I felt as though I had run out of tears to cry. I couldn't even wipe my face. I stared at the plastered wall in hopelessness. What now? That was all I could think about. That this crime would tear me away from those I love. "What's Bax gonna do without me..." I uttered, wiping my nose with my shoulder. "What's Mom gonna do without me? What am I going to do without them?!" I cried out in a panic. I stared down at the tinted sheets and vigorously chewed my lip. I could taste blood, but I was so wrapped up in my thoughts I didn't even notice. "What if this is a death sentence..." I tried to say, but I got choked up.

I was in that bed for two more days before I was escorted out by the chief of police. My hands were cuffed, wrists touching one another. I walked slowly away from the hospital, staring at the ground. I could feel the politician stare at me as I made my exit. I walked out to the small cart used to carry prisoners and entered it. I sat in the dark, covered cart with a police officer staring at me. He was watching me so I that couldn't make an escape. He was an elf, and he looked younger than me. He tried to avoid eye contact with me; he was sweating. The carriage halted, and I bounced forward a bit in reaction to the stop. I had made it to the prison.