Behind The Bars Of Memory

 You smear sweat off your forehead as you slowly start to regain consciousness, first realizing the sudden displeasing stiffness of your bed, then the dark stone wall, one that looks nothing like your room with a plushy bed and actual furniture that you got back in…you can’t remember. People, especially you forget simple things all the time and you brush it off, more concerned about what you were doing in this musky room. “An accident maybe?”, you think, staring at the itchy fabric that barely covers the flimsy mattress you slept on. Though you vividly remember the dainty cream walls of your bedroom and the cluttered desk that kept your laptop and the usual set of messy papers, determining where you were right now was difficult and what had happened before was even harder. “In fact, now that you thought about it, what was your name?” Once again your memory falters, only making you feel more anxious as you channel enough strength to lift yourself off of the metal bed, only to roll flat onto the dirty floor, panting as the heat gets the best of you. From the foreign view from the floor, you catch a glimpse of what seems to be the entrance of whatever compartment you were being kept in, but only saw a small slit of bright light until it gets covered by something, possibly a figure that repeats every minute or so. You can’t be bothered to check as it felt that every small movement you made, the temperature rises about 30 degrees, making it unbearable to do anything but lay still on the floor, as the room clears out of sight, making way for your inevitable unconscious.       

 A figure stands tall beside you as you open your eyes. A man with an emotionless expression, as if he had lost all feeling stood and offers his arm, as though to help you up. You, suspiciously, take his hand and quickly regret it as you felt the sharp prick of a needle on your elbow. You understand from his slight grin, that the man is aware of your caution and his own trickery, and you try to back away from him, but feel too sluggish. Instinctively you reach to push him, but metal grazes your wrists as you realize your captivity. The man remains silent as he leads you with him, out of your private confinement, through a hallway wear other people sneer at your presence. Soon you arrive in a larger space, with other strangers, wearing the cheap tan clothes, like your own. The man uncuffs you and leaves you at the door with two other “guards” and exits.“What was happening?”, you thought. The last thing you remember before is once again, your cream room, but this time something new, the weird emotion of fear, not a fear of failure, or disappointment, but a fear of something, someone. The people of the room continued their chatter with each other, but you sensed something sinister was afoot. Not sure yet, you decide to try to find out, curious about what you were doing there. Why were you being held captive by whoever these people were? You awkwardly walk over to the left side of the space, which is contaminated with people sitting on benches, discussing something you are cannot fathom. Nobody looks particularly nice, but you feel drawn to a group of eight, seated on a withering bench that looks at least 20 years old. Pondering how exactly to approach them, especially considering they are strangers to you, you hit them with a seemingly gentle, “Hello, can I sit here?”, which you can soon tell from their enraged faces, is the wrong decision. The group slightly pushed up from their seats on the bench, but then one of them seated in the middle with crinkly gray hair and with a scar above his left eye stood up and motioned for the rest to sit back down, them reluctantly agreeing. You, intimidated by the group regretfully step back, only to find that the leader is face-to-face with you in another step. You can’t help but fear for the worst as his menacing smirk turns into a frown. “You ever, ever show your face around us again, I’ll make sure you can’t.” 

And with that, you feel the knock of a fist into your nose, and the sudden rush as blood starts coming out. That’s all you can remember as you wake up next in a light blue room, this time with the face of a petite woman, donned in a white robe. “Oh, you’re up. That drug they put in you must’ve made you really weak, probably why you passed out easily”, she shuffles around the cluttered room,” Well, the good news is, your nose isn’t broken and you’ll be out today, the bad news is you’re gonna have to wear a cast.” You don’t take this too bad, but find the cast unbearably uncomfortable. The nurse silently works something in front of you and soon enough you are out of the tiny station ready to turn the corner to what you think is the right way, only to find a small man, in front of the station, staring at the wall. “Oh, there you are.” 

You are confused, and as far as you know you’ve never seen this man in his life, yet his demeanor makes it seem as if you guys go back. “You’ve got a lot of nerve going up to those people, especially considering what you did last week..” For what you know, you haven’t talked to them at all. “What? I never said anything?”  The man stares at you blankly for a second, then continues to speak, “Yes, of course, my bad. Anyways, I figured, since they are probably gonna strike again, I would...offer my services.” You give him a questioning look and silently wonder if you should’ve just ignored him. Then again it was near impossible since he was already waiting for you. “You know you’re a little clueless aren’t you?”, he says with a slight smirk, but you can’t shake off the feeling that his intentions are less sincere. He continues, “As the rank of superiority that I have in here, I could provide you with the guarantee of safety, for a price of course.” “There it is, the ulterior motive.”, you think. You don’t want to be associated with whatever deal he is suggesting and try to move away. “No tha-” You stop in your tracks, to come face to face with two other guys, muscular and angry, worse than the guy before. You also just now realize the presence of men standing behind you. You fell right into their trap. “Of course, you could refuse, but then something bad may happen to you.” You know that isn’t an option unless you want another cast.  “I-I don’t have anything to give.” The shorter man, motions his minions away reluctantly and pins you to the wall. “Of course you have something to give”, he hisses “it’s prison after all.” 

Your head hurts as you suddenly remember different clips of the past. Why were you in prison? The words, “Just say it, Just say it, Just say it.” and “Sentenced to life in prison without the chance of parole.” Finally the heartfelt image of a young woman, pretty with black hair and eyes that reminded you of the night. Her name, it’s on the tip of your tongue, Charlotte, No, Christine, No, Christy, that’s it. In the image you two sit on a picnic blanket, staring at the sky, laughing. The image shifts then to Christy crying, on the phone, “9-1-1, I-I think my husband k-killed someone.” No, it can’t be. Not possible. You aren’t...No. You can’t hear anything but a faint and aggressive “Hello?” and then a “-get ‘em” as an impact comes to your head and the room slowly turns black.