In the Brink of Insanity

Jim Harris has been in jail for twenty-nine years. Just a year ago, he had been put into solitary confinement due to picking fights with other prisoners. The other inmates had immensely hated him due to his posh upbringing, and they had constantly jeered and sneered at him, and told him that he is the lowest of the low.

           Once a corporate lawyer in one of the fancy law firm in the business area, everyone had envied Jim Harris. Yet, it was perhaps in a fit of frenzy that is uncharacteristic of him that he murdered his best friend Oleg that had slept with his girlfriend, Camilla. On hindsight, he knew he should have killed Camilla, too. That was his downfall.

           It was not too late, he thought. And that was perhaps the reason of an odd lightness in his heart. For he knew for certain that this is perhaps the last day he is going to be imprisoned. The last day he is going to rot in this jail. He would tell the police that Oleg had died the moment he stabbed him. He had been set up by Camilla, who had called him in a fit of frenzy and said that Oleg had forced him to sleep with her.

           Sure, the impulse to stab Oleg had been his own, that much he does admit.

           But, he was about to set the record straight. And he knew that this was the last day of his imprisonment. His jail cell was very small, enough only for a cot of wooden bed and a piss pot at the end of the room. There was no calendar of any sorts. With such limited space and his hands tightly handcuffed, he knew that he had no other way to keep track of time but to scratch the marks to pass each day.

           He marked the day every time his breakfast was delivered.

‘You better wait, Camilla.’

Today, before the breakfast had arrived, he felt the need to double-check the scratch-marks in the wall. He had covered it with the portable piss-pot which stank to high heaven. Pushing the piss-pot aside, he looked at the dirty wall- devoid of any sort of scratching of marks.

           His heart lurched in horror as he saw it, ‘Where on earth were all the markings?’

           He immediately crouched and inspected the whole room, has his memory perhaps failed him and could it be that he had mistaken the spot where he had scratched? Yet, somewhere deep inside his heart, he knew that was not the case at all. The small unsophisticated writing beside his marks, a string of inanities he’d rather not pronounce that had been likely written by his previous predecessor was still there.

           His ears immediately perked up as he heard the footstep of the warden in charge of bringing him his daily meal. As he peeked through the barred window, he saw that the warden in charge today was a portly warden with a huge mustache and an unkempt eyebrows and bald hair, he knew this warden well. He was one of the corrupt wardens that regularly trade drugs and money with the prisoner. His motto was simple. ‘Protect the rich.’ The prisoners used to call him Warden Jack, though they always associate his name with jacking-off behind his back.

           He immediately shirked off and sat on his bed, trying to keep calm amidst all this series of irregularities. As a man who appreciates orderly conduct, he despised this kind of anomalies in his life. Ironic, considering that his life had been nothing but a series of anomalies since the day he first met Camilla.

           The warden casted him a dirty look as he sets the plate on the floor.

           “I should be released today, shouldn’t I?” Jim said, looking at the cold soup before him.

           The warden snorted, as if he had heard a funny joke. “Why should you be?”

           “It’s been thirty years since I have been arrested. I should have finished serving my sentence by now.” Jim said, explaining it slowly knowing that the warden probably did not have a good education growing up.

           “What makes you think it’s been thirty years?”

           “I marked the days so I am still aware of the passage of time.”

           The warden was amused, but his face was still unimpressed, “So, it was you scratching the walls day in and day out, huh? Some of the wardens were spreading ghost stories due to that.”

           “It wasn’t me.” Jim said. “I do not scratch the walls day in and day out. I only did it once a day.”

           “Sure, tell yourself that. We repainted the walls yesterday, just so you know.”

           “Why would you do that without my consent?”

           The warden looked at him oddly. “And why on earth should we need your consent to repaint the walls? You’re lucky we did not add vandalizing public property to your already long charges of crimes.”

           “It is my right to have freedom of expression. You just wait, as soon as I get out of here, I’ll sue the ass out of all of you. I’m a lawyer and I know my rights.”

           “Sure, you’re a lawyer and I’m a star. Don’t you ever get tired of this daily bullshit? Hurry up and finish your soup. I don’t have the whole day to babysit freaks of society like you.”

           His face burned at the insult. How can this man who obviously has a lower education than him insult him, he was about to retort when he heard the next words that came from the warden.

           “And you’re the lowest of the low. You killed that poor woman’s husband and baby.”

           Jim recoiled at the allegation. Camilla had always been good at fabricating facts and twisting it beyond any recognition.

           “I’ll have you know that that woman cheated on me.”

           “Sure, champ. She said she doesn’t even know you. I’ve seen a lot sick people here. But, it’s not every day I see delusional stalkers like you. Oh, and just so you know, you must have misheard the judge. Your sentence won’t be finished in thirty years, you’ll rot here for life.”

           Jim paled as he heard it, but the warden simply had had enough. Taking the unfinished soup, he left Jim alone in his cell.

           ‘What the hell.’

           Suddenly, as soon as the warden has left, he felt a strong, hot prickly sensation on his throat as his consciousness seems to fade.

           ‘I… He- that accursed warden… He poisoned me.’

           As soon as he went out of the solitary confinement, the warden called Camilla. “I did it, darling. Now, we can get married just fine.”

           Her laughter rang loud and bright, and permeated into Jim Harris’ very last memory.