Detained

Approx. 1530 words

Detained

By

Nicholas Martin

I walked into the Bean and Chill this morning, thinking it would be like any other Monday. A large black coffee and a blueberry scone were all I wanted. I did not expect to have the most fearful moment of my life.

My morning started off like any other: I awoke sweating, urinated, brushed my teeth, got dressed and walked down the street to my favorite coffee house. I waited in line with the other guests, keeping my eyes wide open, pretending not to be a zombie. At 8 o’clock in the morning, all that can be expected from me is a low grunt of acknowledgement; a nod of the head meant all was going well.

I pondered where I would sit. There were couches along the walls and tables in the middle of the room surrounded by chairs. The couches were made of brown leather and had small tables in front of them. People occupied all the tables and couches so I decided to sit outside on the patio.

After I received my breakfast I sat down outside at a table with a red umbrella. I took a sip of my coffee and smiled. The coffee of the day was the Ethiopian blend I am fond of. I unfolded my newspaper and gasped at the article on the front page:

Four More Detained from the Inland Empire

I am sorry to say, but four more citizens have been detained this weekend from the Inland Empire. The individuals were Bipolar and Schizophrenic and caused public disturbances. On Saturday, one captive, a man named Jeffrey Daniels, drew a knife on two police officers while shouting, “Bring Diana back. Bring Diana back.” This happened in the city of Upland and…..

I let the newspaper fall to the table. I couldn’t believe it. What was this country coming to? I know: s**t. Five months ago the American government started rounding up people with mental illness. Too many mass shootings were occurring, most of the shooters were reported to have one or more severe mental illnesses. Gun control and mental health have been major issues in this country for a long time, and an action was finally taken by the Senate and the House of Representatives. About five months ago, in the quiet hours of the night, when most of America were asleep, a bill was signed: not to take away guns, but to take away people.

The first to go were the patients in mental hospitals; they were all so conveniently in custody already. Next on the list were the homeless. More and more cities had less homeless people wandering the streets to this day. How they found the rest is still something of speculation. Some say that insurance companies and pharmacies were raided. All of the patient records were confiscated and the people who were on the books for taking psychiatric medications or were in therapy were tracked down. Luckily, I bailed as soon as I heard the news about the new law, called the Mental Health Securement Act. A lot people blame our president, Donald Trump, for this. But it was a joint effort from all higher offices of government. I guess this is what I get for not voting in the 2016 election.

I am originally from Pomona, California, but I moved to Rancho Cucamonga after I heard of what president Trump had done. My best friend, Brad, had let me stay in his guest room for several months after I left Pomona. I have Bipolar disorder. I was diagnosed 3 years ago and was doing very well. I had a job, a girlfriend and my own place. I have nothing now. I lived off of savings and performed odd jobs in the area.

I suddenly had a feeling that someone was watching me. I glanced up to check my twelve o’clock and no one was there. I looked over to my three o’clock, there was a woman in a green shirt, but her back was to me. On my nine o’clock there were two police officers in black uniforms. My heart stopped for a second. My stomach nearly jumped out of my torso. They seemed to be looking right at me, almost as if they were locked on to something directly behind me. They had on aviator sun glasses. They did not look away from me. I nodded my head at them but they did not return the gesture.

I turned my head forward again and picked up my newspaper. I flipped to the crossword puzzle, luckily I had a pen on me. I held the newspaper in my left hand, it rested against my middle three fingers with my thumb and pinky holding it in place. I brought the pen to my lips with my right hand, feigning concentration. I usually don’t like to wear sunglasses. I like to look people in the eyes with no barriers. But today I wish I would have had them. My eyes kept sweeping to the left, my head fighting not to do the same.

I had not even taken a bite of my scone and I barely started my coffee. Leaving would have been suspicious. The heat was unbearable. Their eyes were like lasers; pointing at my skull, severing skin and bone to dissect my brain. They know, a small voice in my head whispered. Run. I could not. I stilled myself by taking slow breaths. I focused on bringing air deep into my lungs, counting to four, then exhaling. I reached for my scone and took a bite. The scone was delicious, but this morning it felt like chewing on sand. I took a swig of joe and swallowed the mixture.

There was a noise, barely audible, coming from my nine o’clock. I stole a quick glance and one of the officers was saying something in the others man’s ear. Crazy was one of the words I heard, or was I imagining things. I put the pen down and smoothed my hair. I tried to hide the tic coming from my left eye. Run. No, not yet. Run! I could not take it. I folded my newspaper, stood up, put the pen in my pocket and grabbed my breakfast. I was to finish my meal in the comfort of Brad’s home. My only sanctuary now.

“Excuse me, sir,” one of the officers said.

I kept walking.

“Sir!” he said again. “Please stop where you are.”

I froze mid stride and slowly rotated toward the voice. I gathered myself, then spoke. “What can I do for you, officer?” My voice cracked when I said ‘I’. I’m doomed.

“Are you alright, son?” the officer asked. He was lean and well-muscled and had a crooked nose; obviously the result of being broken multiple times. Now I was just staring at him.

“I’m fine,” I said hastily.

“Then why is your eye twitching?” asked the second policeman. He was a little round in the waist and had a double chin. To be fair, he had a double everything.

“Too much coffee. Have you tried it this morning?” I tried to change where this was going. “The Ethiopian is superb.”

“Indeed, but we are more interested in you,” said Double Chin.

“Where are you going?” said Crooked Nose.

“Home. I need to get ready for work.” Stay calm, Lars, stay calm, I told myself.

“What is your name, and can I please see some identification?” Crooked Nose asked.

A bead of sweat started rolling down my brow. I reached into my pocket but came up empty handed. “My name is Jacob Southard, and I think I dropped my driver’s license inside. May I go get it?”

“Sure,” said Double Chin. “We can all go inside. I need another donut, anyways. How does that sound, Officer Moran?”

“Sound like an excellent plan, Officer Wright,” said Crooked Nose.

They escorted me inside. When we got to the counter I panicked. I dropped my newspaper and my scone, tore the lid off of my coffee cup, which was still warm, and threw it in Crooked Nose’s face. He was the real threat. I turned and bolted toward the back entrance; dodging customers and chairs. Something snagged my foot and I nearly fell to the ground. I recovered and made it to the door. Once I pushed them open my body stopped in its tracks. I was shaking, uncontrollably. My right shoulder was pierced from behind and my body became very hot; as if molten lava were being pushed through my veins. I collapsed. The rest I don’t remember.

I came to in the back of a squad car. My wrists were bound behind me. Officer Moran and Officer Wright were in the front seats. I couldn’t hear correctly. Did they say another “crazy” secured, or was it my imagination? I don’t know. Nothing matters anymore. Who knows how long I will rot in this hole. Scribbling my memoir on the wall is all I can do at the moment. Could I have played it differently? Yes. Would the outcome have been different? Probably not. Goodbye, world. Goodbye, Brad. It was nice knowing you.

Author's Note

this is my second attempt at writing fiction

Reviews

[Philip Muls]

Easy reading, good flow. Nice build-up. But I did not fully get the end ?