at eight a.m. someone woke me up. i felt relieved i could finally leave the colourless walls of my cell behind. i was surrounded by guards as they led me to the hall where the others were already seated. they always picked me up last. the guards let me to the solo table in the back of the hall, by the window. i liked sitting by the window because it made my mind quiet down. for a moment i could appreciate earth's beauty in all its glory. only those five minutes of the day, right before crazy simon started having a go at crazy, fat margo who was sitting next to him, accusing her of stealing his eggs. the eggs he never even got. that's why i call him crazy simon. because he's crazy. and then crazy, fat margo starts crying, putting her hands over her ears and storming off. the guards go after her. crazy simon sits back down and eats crazy, fat margo's eggs. smug little bastard. i don't really know why i still call crazy margo crazy, fat margo. she's not that fat anymore.
at eight-thirty a.m. everyone finishes their breakfast. most of the people were guided towards the group-counsellor rooms, others were led back to their cell. i am one of them. the same four guards, guard 1, guard 2, guard 3 and guard 4 led me back to my cell. or, nightmare, as i like to call it. guard 1 opens the doors and guard 3 and 4 push me inside. guard 2 chuckles and smirks. i turn around. i give him my dead-stare. guard 2 quickly closes the door. and i sit down on the floor. day 395 in this place. more than a year. and every day still sucks as much as the first one. you may ask yourself how i know this is day 395. there's an actual calendar on the wall, and every day, before i get to bed, i get the pleasure to rip one of the number off. day 395. 700 to go. the court decided i had to stay at least three years here. i think it will be longer than that. i am untreatable. no one can silence the voice inside my head. no one can control it. no one can control my actions. no one can tame the beast inside. no one can tame me. because i am the voice inside my head. i am the one who can control me. i am the one who causes my actions. i am the one who could tame the beast that's inside. but i don't. because after living for 17 years with those terrible people outside, people who call themselves 'human', i still don't regret anyone i've killed. i don't regret a single action. i have no regrets. and i think that's the biggest problem. the problem is that i don't feel guilt. i stand up and walk over to my usual spot, right across the miniscule black dot on the colourless wall. i found the imperfection right the second i entered my cell for the first time, and it's been my thinking spot since then.
after sitting in reticence for four hours, a guard knocked on my door. he opened the door and four different guards than this morning guided me to the hall. to my habitual spot. i sat in utter silence as i ate my sandwich. i listened to the others talk, shout, and cry out. it was music to my ears to know i wasn't the only one struggling with voices inside of my head. my sandwich tasted like carton. like basically everything else here. but they have to prepare everything before bringing it here. cutlery and ceramics re forbidden in the hall, because there have been some 'incidents' in the past. including a man named allan who ate the plate and died. at least he will be remembered. allan williams, the man who ate a plate and died.
an hour later, the guards walk over to me and bring me back to my kingdom of silence. i wish i had someone to share a cell with. but everyone is scared of me, so that will never happen. if i were them, i wouldn't want to share a cell with me either. i am kind of scary sometimes. i entered my cell and the guards slammed the door behind my back. no stupid chuckle. no sentimental goodbye. just a hard slam. the way every goodbye in life is. everyone who thinks a goodbye actually can be good, are only fooling themselves. all goodbyes are sudden, unexplained, and forgotten within five years. no one will know who you are in hundred years. you will be just a name. nothing but name. but have we really every been more than just a name? i don't think so. i am just a name, i foolish, insignificant human being, just like the other 6 billion people on this planet. some of us make it to the very top and if they're lucky, people will talk about them for hundreds of years. others just don't. and people have to accept that. you live, you die, you're forgotten. it's that straightforward.
i think it might be my straightforwardness that scares people off. people are afraid of hearing the truth and that is just exactly what i give them. people don't like hearing the truth. when they ask you if you like their t-shirt, they ask because they want to hear a yes. not because they're genuinely interested in your stupid opinion on their shirt. if you do say you don't like it, you're 'rude' and 'disrespectful'. if you don't want to hear your t-shirt sucks, don't ask me for my opinion. go ask someone who will actually kiss your arse and extol your t-shirt.
i think now is the perfect time to introduce myself. my name is jessica cornish. and this is my story about how i met my same.
