Locked away.

A single beam of sunlight shines through the window, illuminating a cloud of dust. Beauty found in such simplicity. There was a lack of colour, blurs of black and white. No emotion shown through colours, the only colour was seen on the outside. The cleaning chemicals used gave the place a clean sheen. The fumes hit everyone who enters in the face, causing their eyes to water. The walls padded, Cushioned to protect those who are confined by them. A familiar odour fills the room, a mixture of disinfectant and fear. The paint was such a bright white that you could almost taste it. It was a hideous environment; you could feel the hate fill the air. A repetitive banging noise caused by head to wall contact, bang, bang, bang. Fingernails slowly scraping across the pristine floor, becoming increasingly erratic and angered.

A room full of people all dressed in white, Obeying orders. Their legs are shaking. Eyes twitching like a broken video. One lone person tapping a single ball point pen against a metal pole, what they see in that reflective surface is not something they recognise, it’s a monster.  A twisted version of the soul they once possessed, until it was burnt and changed. Rocking on a chair back and forth a woman stares out of the window, wishing and wanting all that is far from her grasp. In the background you can hear the screams of patients who have been and gone, pain exhausting their every breath. Then my eyes meet hers, such magnificent colours, like pools of salted tears. Her hair in loose curls, the auburn colour releases the fire of her heart. Her jaw bones rigged and sharp, her complexion a soft white shade, showing her restriction from the sun. Her lips, raw from the insistent biting, are a gateway to her soul. She is a picture of radiance, one that not even the most skilled artist could depict.

My eyes locked to her every being. Until she moves away, gracefully walking across the room, her scent left behind her. My eyes dart toward the corner. A single black piano sits, perfectly poised ready for the correct musician. Its keys repetitive, Black then white, Black then white. A form of true elegance made purely for the purpose of inspiration. I move toward it and pull the pure oak stool out to meet my regulation white shoes. I take a seat and close my eyes. My hands dance with the keys, playing a sweet melody. One I don’t recognise, the notes hanging in the silence. The scratching stops. The banging stops and for a moment everyone listens, they soak up the beauty of each individual sound. The music takes me to another world, where I can soar through the clouds, Wind through my dark hair and feel a sweet release of freedom. I can transport to where everyone is happy, and beauty is in everything. Nothing has an evil side, and souls are pure and clean.

I play for hours, until my fingers begin to bruise and ache. When the pain is too unbearable and the keys are painted in a weak red colour. I stop. Inhale a deep breath and open my eyes, back seeps the sorrow. The hurt and despair, I’m once again trapped. I sigh at the thought of another long day separated from the one thing that keeps my heart beating in time. I stand from the stool and walk towards a window, Reinforced to protect those who it contains, I am handed a small plastic cup containing three blue pills. I cringe at the thought of them slowly falling down my throat, slashing at my personality with razor sharp knives. They made my heart numb, my blood ceased to pump for a reason. They put me into a living coma, where every decision was made for me.

I close my eyes and lift the plastic cup towards my lips and swallow, the pills don’t slide down my throat easily, they feel like sandpaper and a slow burning sensation fills my hollow throat. The aftertaste makes me feel sick to my stomach, I gag.  My legs begin to shake uncontrollably, but this isn’t an effect of those three pills. This is because of her. My one true love has just entered the room. Her perfume drifts towards me, catching in my nose making me feel safety, like the scent is holding my heart. I take a step back, and peer from behind the wall, watching her. I watch her pure beauty move about as if she were dancing, elegantly gliding toward a patient. She places one of her intricate hands on his shoulder, He winces and she just drops to his level and smiles. I would do anything to be able to run my hand against her skin and breathe deeply so to remember the sweet fragrance forever. But such fantasies shall not be granted, ever.

I turn, walking in the opposite direction. It takes every ounce of my strength to refrain from running back, towards her. I know it’s time to go back to my room; I drag my feet along the floor. The rubber soles grinding against the smooth surface. I pull the heavy door and an ear splitting clonk is let out. I enter the small room, the same white walls and a single grey bed sits in the corner. I sit down on the bed and the springs are bearing up through the sheets. I sigh, this isn’t a home. I undress and pull the sheets back, yet first I kneel beside the bed and mutter a few words, Hope lingering in each syllable. I climb into bed and bring my hands up to meet my face, a single tear falls and slides down over my cheekbones, and down until it rests on my blushing red lips. A salt taste enters my mouth and a smile slowly creeps across my face, that familiar taste made me feel safe. All I ever wanted was for my one true love to be happy. Lately it has been obvious that she has not been. I will do everything in my power to make her happy.

                        

Author's Note

Grammar is not my strong point, so i apologise