Their Blood Is My Memory

Ch.2| The Girl In The Last Stall (Mr.B/Sang POV)

Today was the day we started speaking at St. Augustine's Hospital... for mental people.

Ouch. That totally came out wrong. Sorry dear reader, I haven't had coffee this morning yet.

"Owen," Sean said. "You're holding up everyone else. Let's go."
-
"Don't talk to the girl in the last cell," the lady at the front desk said. "Trust me, you don't want to talk to her. It's very confusing."

"I'm not sure what you mean." I replied. "But I think I'll talk to her."
-
Sang's POV

As the door to my cell opened, I ignored it.

It usually was the food lady or the doctor, that devil.

But out of curiosity I turned. "Who the hell are you, what are you doing here, and didn't the lady at the front desk tell you not to talk to me? Not that I would mind, I'm actually kinda lonely here." I huffed out.

Okay so I wasn't lonely. I was fucking bored.

He sat in the chair across from me.  "May I ask why you're here?"

"I'm a psychotic murderer." I stated simply. "My stepmother was abusive. When she was sober, she did all these crazy punishments. When she was drunk, she beat me. My father didn't give a fuck about me, and my sister, the actual whore in the house, treated me like trash. I stabbed my mother to death, licked the blade clean, killed my sister by skewering her throat. I went to my father's firm and murdered him by putting a bullet through his head, and the police caught me. They claimed me mentally ill. I was let off the death sentence. I spend eight years in this stupid place, paying for my psychotic mental illness. Nobody talks to me anymore. And I can feel my sanity slipping away, it's not even funny. The only thing I really remember, being in that courtroom, was when he said I could get parole, if someone cared enough about a murderer. Which, would never happen. They just put me on medication and feed me and don't even talk to me. I can't even remember what the sky looked like. I don't look out that window, it's only showing a brick wall."

"I'm sorry that you had to go through that." He said. "I'm Mr. Blackbourne."

I held out my hand. "I'm Sang Sorenson. Hey... don't worry, I don't bite. Well, not anymore."

He chuckled and shook my hand.

I then scratched the back of my neck. "You're volunteering for the week, right?" I asked.

He nodded. "I think someone different will talk to you tomorrow. Take care Miss Sorenson."

"You as well, Mr. Blackbourne."

And then he left.

Wow. He didn't seem affected at all when I told him my story.

It kinda makes me want to feel feelings again.

Or is it I have been feeling them all along, but I don't notice it? Normally I would've told him go to hell and try to kill him. I don't trust men, but I don't believe all are bad.

I threw myself down on my cot.

"What the hell did he do?" I mumbled.