4 Imprisonment

Chapter 4.

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IMPRISONMENT

 

A guard is pacing up and down the cold concrete floor of one of the sectors, muttering to himself the same thing over: ‘She’s en’ering the building, en’ering the building, en’ering the building…’ In his brown uniform he blends in sufficiently well - the dark lights illuminating shadows of the patients, himself, and the cell bars.

   The Guard hears a squeak from one of the cells and he stops and turns around, slanting his eyes. Walking to the direct centre of his four cells he smiles and says in a demanding tone: ‘I don’t want any of you trying anything. You will smile. You will be happy. If any of you refuse to do so I will taser you.’ He emphasizes the word taser and takes out of one of his holsters a large, black one, the yellow button on it alluring. His grin widens as he approaches the cells one by one, lightly tapping the button; just scaring them, getting a thrill out of their petrified facial expressions. He bursts out laughing. ‘Oh I’m only kidding!’ They relax. ‘But not really.’ With that the Guard runs up to one of the fatties and presses the big yellow button, all the while thrusting the taser against him. The other three watch in horror - he screams at first but his scream is cut short as he starts to convulse, his eyes lighting up, perfectly relaying the screams that he cannot let out. The Guard releases his finger and smiles again, sticking it straight to them: ‘Don’t f**k up.’

   The other guards laugh quietly and they themselves proceed to taser some of their own. The three who just watched as their neighbour was jolted look on with horrified expressions on their faces. Now, stuck in a cell with little else but a bed, a toilet, and a dull light, and recovering from the shock of the tase, he realises he has achieved nothing.

   Three years ago he had friends. Three years ago he had dreams. Three years ago he had finally gotten his life in order. But now… Now he is secluded. Trapped. Alone. And with only one remaining hope.

   ‘I thought I would find them here…’ he says with apathy. ‘I haven’t…. But I thought I would.’ They all look back at him with equally bland faces, not knowing what he’s going on about but still feeling him. ‘It’s…. been… so long since… I last spoke that… I’m not sure if I’m saying things the way… I’m supposed to.’ The words come out dry, emotionless. His face shares this description.

   Staring up above him he takes note of the bars. He is finally ready. Above all the cells are bars that cover the lights, this is done so they don’t break them; although dim the lights are deliberately set like that as to strain ones eyes, they are expensive and must not be broken. Fortunately in his three years of captivity he has finally found a more meaningful use of the bars.

   Unsurprisingly none of the guards notice as he climbs up from his bed and forces his feet into them, effectively breaking his ankle and suspending himself upside down. All of his weight pulls down against his ankle, putting it under extreme pressure and putting him through immense pain. His fat rolls come down on him, covering his face and asphyxiating him. It hurts for him to struggle, yet, it being natural, he can only do his best to keep it under control. Horrified, all the others still stare, genuinely surprised but unable to commute as such. The guards don’t notice anything – they are too busy going to work on other patients. His lifeless corpse now hangs upside down from the bars, in a cell, in Sector G. His suicide is complete.