Day 1
It’s nice here. The food is okay, but I could go for some pizza. Nice. Nice. I’m sure you’re nice too. I’m Christopher Coppen. They told me to write to someone, so I don’t think too much. I don’t really know what they mean. Thinking is good. That’s all I ever did at college. Think. It was the end of sophomore year when I left. I think what I miss most are the books. Like ones about Vlad the Impaler. Man, he was a cool guy. All those different ways he could kill people, you know? All the fear of him. I think people are afraid of me too. They don’t really look at me. They look to the side of me or through me. I always sit alone at lunch. People part like the red sea when I walk by. I looked at my reflection in the window a little while ago (no mirrors in this room). It was a little hard to see myself. Like I was going to blink out in a second. Or maybe it was the bars on the window. I have shaggy, mousy brown hair. Blue eyes. My mother never liked them much because they remind her too much of dad. He left when I was too little to know him. I’m lean, but not too muscly. I don’t like those muscly types. So what is it people are scared of? I’m not exactly physically imposing. I keep getting these flashes in my head of some guy swinging a knife around. The other guy in the room looks frightened. He’s kinda on the floor cowering back against a dresser. I think it’s from a nightmare I keep having. I think slasher guys are cool though. They don’t use guns. Guns are too fast. The guy on the floor should get it together. Why can’t he defend himself? He’s much bigger than the guy with the knife. Then the nightmare ends and all I see is this white light. Not in my head. I actually can’t see for a second. Okay. I’m going to bed. Not much to do around here with no books and all.
Day 14
I can’t leave my room. I want to. It feels almost dangerous to leave. But boring staying here. All the more reason. I want to go for a run. The kind of run that leaves me feeling so exhausted I just want to sit on the ground and put my head between my knees, clutching my throbbing chest. I wish I at least had some music or something. Nirvana. The kind of music you break things to.
Mom hasn’t visited once since I’ve been here. I don’t get why. She hasn’t even written me or anything. I feel lonely. The people who bring my food don’t look at me either. They smile at the floor so politely. It’s insulting. Why can’t someone just see me? I keep getting these flashes in my head of some guy swinging a knife around.
At night I hear scratches on the floor. I think there are rats in here. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, its rats. I don’t want them chewing on my feet in the dark. I crawled all over the floor to find one. Maybe I could kill it. Something to do. Something else funny–I keep hearing screams. It seems like the same person. I keep getting these flashes in my head of some guy swinging a knife around. Must be some weirdoes here.
Day 30
When I was awoken this morning, one of the men in white looked at the floor in surprise. There were deep gouges in the wood. It’s the rats, I told him. He smiled politely at my feet. He left the room, and I turned and stared out the window. He came back a moment later, with bandages. He began to wrap them around my hands. I didn’t notice before. My nails are bloodied and my fingers are full of cuts. There’s nothing sharp in this room. I don’t understand. I keep getting these flashes in my head of this guy waving a knife around.
Day 45
Today I feel good. I was thinking about my dog, Ringo. I bet he misses me. We used to go hunting for rabbits together in the woods by my house. I didn’t shoot them very much. I would just watch Ringo find them and tear them to pieces. Afterward I would pet him on the head and he would lick my face. Then my cheek would be warm from the blood on his mouth. I came home one time and mom flipped. She thought I’d been attacked. I just smiled. When I woke up this morning my pillow was in shreds. The mattress was pushed completely off the bed, and there were deep gouges in it. I think the rats tried to eat me while I was sleep. What did they put in my food? I couldn’t have slept through that. I should leave. I should leave. I keep getting these flashes in my head of some guy waving a knife around.
I’m opening the door. The door I’m not supposed to open. I’m walking down the hall. No one has stopped me yet. No one will stop me. No one. Will. Stop. Me.
Footsteps behind me now. They’re getting closer. Voices. Voices calling me to stop. I start running. Running so that my chest will throb. No, running to leave. Faster now. Faster and faster and faster. Blinding white light. I can’t see. Hands on my arms. Hands all over me. Pushing me down. No.
I am waving a knife. And plunging it into one of the men in white feels good as he stops and rubies gush out of him over my hands. His white uniform blushes crimson. And there is red, red everywhere and it is all so beautiful. And I am Vlad the Impaler and I am Ringo in the woods and finally, all eyes are on me and I am seen.