Valentine

A Story by Norman Gray

She said she didn't care. She said she wasn't worried. I saw it in her eyes. The glimmer of hope, that one day she'll leave this place, that one day they'd allow her to live.

Valentine was the name, endless was the pain. They say she was born in this dump. A dump where the trash are innocent men and women, a prison for sufferers, serving a sentence, a sentence for living, endangering by being, a mental institution. Theres Bob, the homophobic tranny cheerleader. And Georgia, the Australian trauma victim that never got over the death of her husband. And Ciara, and Terry, and Damian, and hundreds of others no one ever listened to, no one ever layed their eyes on.

Her mother may have killed herself while giving birth, she may have been the craziest of all, but she sure had a sense of humor, and a peculiar taste for irony. Naming her daughter Valentine, knowing she'd never loved or had been loved, was quite ironic indeed. Valentine wasn't crazy, her mental state was actually quite stable. But she never had gone out. Her mother had been considered dead 5 years before her birth, no one knew who her father was, but there was a good chance it was her grandfather who'd died from aids a few years back. Valentine didn't exist. She had no family, no parents, no country. They couldn't let her out, she'd have been considered an illegal immigrant, and they couldn't send her back to a country that didn't exist. She was bound to die in Saint Thomas, and she'd known it all along. The shrinks had given her a cell to sleep in, and they'd bring her food every once in a while. They acted like she was just another patient, but they knew she was just another fourteen year old child, just a little more lost than others.

This place has security cameras everywhere, and I'm not suposed to talk to the girl. Although I did, once. It was the day Cary, the chlostrophobic schyzophrenic one that used to be a callgirl, got stuck in the control room, thought she was suffocating and broke every screen. I ran down to cell 271, opened the door.
-Valentine?

-Who... who is this?

Her voice was sweet and soft, a velvet voice that didn't belong in a metal cell.
-I'm Brian, the janitor.
She was sitting on an old wooden chair facing the window, staring at a sky she could only dream to aproach.
-What do you want?
-Nothing. Just wanted to say hi.
There was a long silence. I stood in the doorway for a few minutes, then I left.
-Wait! Brian!
-Yeah?
-Please stay.
-Why?
-I need you.
Another silence.
-Valentine?
-Yes?

She was facing me now. Her eyes were beautiful, bluer than a sea she'll never see.
-I've been wanting to ask you this for a while... How is it? Living here? With all the madmen.
-Don't call them that. They're people like you and me.
Her voice raised slightly when she said that.
-I know I know. I'm sorry.
-It's okay. Coming from the outside, it's true they must seem a little special. I don't think about them, i can't afford to, the more I think about them, the more I think about you.
-Me?
-Yes. You. The outside people. Brian, tell me about the outside please.
-There's so much to say. You know, it's... did you hear that? Gotta run Valentine.

-Brian?
-Yes?
-Come back. Soon.
I smiled.
-I will. I promise. Bye.
-Bye Brian.

© 2011 Norman Gray

My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register

Featured Review

cartera

Just on Serendipity Patrol and found yourself. Excellent writing.
I think we could have done without the: ' You may be wondering . . . ' for me this change in narrative voice was a wee bit disruptive of my suspension of disbelief. I had already enterd into the narrator's mind to a large degree. You could have let us know that you were the janitor in some other less obtrusive way. But that's just me. It really is an excellent piece of writing and a good strong story to boot. More to come of this one I feel.
Well done.
ATB
Alex.