Accidental Assassination

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Recommended: Theories outling solitary confinement

I wake slowly to the same four white walls that always greet me. I slowly rub my eyes to wipe away the sleep and glance over at the window. Sunlight slips into the room through the small window of my tiny little prison. It hurts my eyes to look at the sunlight, but after spending so long in such a dim place, I can’t help but stare at its blinding light. It reminds me that there is a world outside these four walls that trap me and in the gloominess of the room; its light offers me some hope. I don’t know where I am. I feel like a bird that has been stripped of its freedom and shoved into a cage, trapped with no way out. I can’t remember when I came here; it feels like a whole lifetime has passed. Even worse, I can’t remember anything about myself. Who I am, how old I am, what I did for a living…it is all gone. I try to remember, but every time I do, I am hit with an unusual feeling in my stomach and my head spins. It’s as if my body doesn’t want me to remember. The small room offers me no comfort; there is only a bed, a door that is almost always locked and a window which is barricaded. Some days, I feel like I’m being suffocated, there is barely enough space to breathe. My limbs are heavy, my body still craves sleep but no matter how tired I am, I don’t go to sleep. I can’t go to sleep. The same dream haunts me every time I close my eyes, leaving me restless and agitated when I wake up. Recently, it has been worsening. Now, the vision doesn’t just come in my sleep, I see it during the day too. I don’t know what it means; maybe it means that I’m just going crazy. I keep seeing a man strapped onto a table, blue eyes wide with fear. His voice is raspy, like he had been screaming for too long, and the same words always escape his ... ... middle of paper ... ...age. The rustle of fabric and footsteps draws my eyes to the shadows. There is another presence in the room, hidden in the shadows of the dimly lit room. I can see the outline of a body moving around, safe in the darkness, until another step brings them out from the darkness and into the light. It is me. My fingers are curled around a sharp knife and I watch in horror as my mirror image makes a deep incision into my brother’s skin. Then, a small bomb the exact size of a pacemaker is suddenly in my hands and I am slipping it into my brother. He is screaming now, tears running down his face, his words breathless. “Help me…please help me…” My mirror image stitches the ticking bomb inside him and then steps back into the shadows. I can move again, the ice freezing my muscles melting, and I try to reach out. He explodes and I wake to the sound of my own scream.

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