I am drug through the door and have it promptly slammed behind me, nearly smacking right into me. The guards grip tightens on my arms as they yank harder and harder to keep me up to pace. The pain shoots throughout my body that forms a mixed drink of suffering as it collides with my conflicting emotions. Wondering whether I should be sad that I failed the interview, sorry that I made The Vanarch cry, or be mad at the way the guards are treating me. All coming together to make what I want to call a, “what the heck just happened” garnished with a nice set of uncertainty for the future.
I begin to feel my eyes well up and my breathing becomes shallow. However, before a river begins to form on my face, briefly I make eye contact with the long hair girl as I am drug by. She is standing in front of an open door and her eye was barely visible through her unkempt hair, but I could make out a shocked expression. As my eyes were glued to her the guards abruptly stop at the door next to the one she stood.
“Welcome to the hold over section.”
One of the guard says as they both toss me through the door and I collapse onto the ground.
“This is your new home, you will spend the rest of your undetermined days here, you will complete all and any tasks given to you, you are responsible of keeping you, the room and all your belongings clean and functional. During your stay here you are not to speak to any of the campus members, you are to refrain from speaking to any other holdovers. You will stay in your room, the only time you are allowed in and out of this room is if you are accompanied by guard. You will be assigned daily tasks and you will complete them. Wake up is 5 in the morning, you will conduct hygiene at 5:30 in the morning and be ready to do your morning tasks at 6 in the morning. Do I make myself clear inmate!?”
“Inmate?”
The guard roars this as if he had rehearsed this time and time again. No hesitation in his voice, and the sheer volume was enough to make my ribcage rumble. Unable to comprehend reality, I was at my breaking point. at this point. I felt a cold air pressing on my face. The warmth of the tears washing over my cheeks. My lip quivers as I try to even utter any response, but how could I. Nothing that is happening right now makes any sense. Mere moments had gone by before the guard spoke up once again.
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“Are you deaf inmate, if that’s the case I can remedy that”
I flinch as the guard grabs me by my collar as he pulls my face closer to his. He moves his head to the left my head and yells.
“DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR I N M A T E!?”
I am at full meltdown at this point, tears flowing out of my eyes as if a dam had erupted, snot coated my lips, I could taste it as it would drip its way inside my mouth as I howled. I cried and cried my heart out. Can you blame me, I couldn’t comprehend why. Why was I being treated like this. I am incapable of understanding. I wasn’t a perfect human being, I know I’m not perfect. I was late to school sometimes, I would mess up cleaning the bathroom every now and then, I would mess up in some classes, I asked some stupid question during almighty teaching, but I was an honest good person. I always put others happiness before mine. So why, why was I being treated like a rabid animal, why was I being called an inmate and why did Angel yell at me like that.
“ I’m s-sorry, I a-am so sorrry! I didn’t mean to sleep in her office! I couldn’t go to sleep last night! Please, please, please, please I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to make her angry!”
Sniffling and hiccupping out the only words I could spit out at the time. Of course, it had to be because I slept in her office while she was talking to me. It only made sense, I mean this lovely woman spends every waking day of her life providing someone like me a safe place to call home, raises me, beds me and feeds me, and how do I repay her. I sleep during one the most important days of my life when she is asking how I’ve been.
The guard tosses me to the ground.
“If you were genuinely sorry you would’ve never been born. Clean yourself up, you have a busy day tomorrow!”
The guards make their way out and promptly slam the door. Leaving me to sort out my thoughts, and my emotions. I clutch my stomach and curl up in a ball. I care not about anything else in this world right now. I want to sort myself out the only way I know how, and that’s to wail and cry. What else am I to do with these emotions, the uncertainty of tomorrow. This was the only place I could call home, and now I am being kicked out of it. I wish I had a time machine, so I could back in time and punch my past self into the face until I fell unconscious. Maybe then I would’ve been awake for Angel’s interview. Maybe then I wouldn’t be balled up in the fetal position in a pool of my snot and tears. Maybe then I would’ve seen behind that locked door to the room of happiness.
The sound of a blaring alarm interrupt my thoughts. The lights are out in the room, only the slight glow of the alarm clock pierce the darkness. My eyes are damp from tears, and my upper lip is dry and crusty from snot. I make my way to the blaring clock, It reads 5:01. I had fallen asleep while having my episode.
“Time to conduct hygiene…”