Imprisioned

"Fingerprints." The official in front of me commanded sternly. He proceeded to grab my hand and press each of my fingers, from my thumb to my pinkie, the ink of my fingers left a mark which the governmental system could identify me as.

"Go on," another official led me to another hall. He stopped and told me to stand behind a wall that contained numbers in inches, I then figured they used it to know the criminal's height.

"Hold this pamphlet and look at the camera," I stood, looked at the camera, and stuck out my tongue holding out my middle finger with my other hand. The official on my right rolled out his eyes and hit my stomach with his black baton, forcing me to cough out blood out of my mouth. Metericiously, I laughed out of breath and turned to my right.

"Get this over with and take the damn picture." My shoulder was covered with an elastic bandage and it hurt when I tried to move.

"I don't know about out there kid, but in here, we make the rules. So you better obey them if you don't want an ugly long life locked up in here." The official that had just hit me then grabbed me by my hair and pushed me to a nearby cabinet with orange clothing on top.

"Grab your clothes."

"Yes sir," I teased. Taking off the elastic bandage from my shoulder, I counted the amount of stitches that held my skin together; there were 15.

As soon as I grabbed my clothes another official opened the bars and let me into prison. The prisoners stared at me some applauding and chanting, and some others with stern faces that seemed to kill me with their eyes.

"You will be in cell 71 with White Eyes. Breakfast starts at 6 and ends at 8, dinner's at 5. You are to be in your cell by 7, absence will be punished. Dr. Peterson wants soon, so find your way there. Visits for you are prohibited."

I followed down the official until cell 71 and then he walked away. Inside, a young man with white hair and a large, strong body sat on the bottom bunk, as if waiting for my presence.

"Mmm, so you must be White Eyes." His eyes were focused on the ground disabling me from grabbing any attention from him.

"And you must be the damn fucking devil," he laughed lifting his eyes from the ground and revealing his imperceptible white eyes.

Ignoring his evident weird look, I smiled, "yes I am indeed, a devil from heaven," I scoffed sarcastically.

"I like your humour, come here son, sit with me." He patted the side of his mattress and offered me to come with a hand gesture.

"Alright?" I shrugged and sat with him.

He turned his gaze to me and openly stared at me as if he could see me. "I don't care what those fuckers out there say," he started, smacking his lips and scratching the back of his fair short hair. "I make the rules here, if I like you, you work for me, if I don't then you get the fuck out of here before I take off your eyes and replace them for mine." Somehow I liked the way this young man talked to me, he was humorous like me.

"And since I'm unfortunate enough to be liked by you, then I'll be keeping my eyes until further notice," I joked. "I'm Mathias. Mathias Forbes."

He laughed and continued talking. "Don't underestimate me, just because I'm blind and I speak like an old man doesn't mean I'm in a disadvantage."

"Noted. Now if you don't mind I need to talk with Dr.. what did he say? Panason?"

He laughed once again, showing his perfectly shaped teeth. "Dr. Peterson. He treats the 'crazy' kind." He highlighted the word crazy with his mouth as if it were an unknown word.

Nodding, I walked away and out of my cell forgetting the fact White Eyes was blind, after all it didn't matter much to me. I walked straight and then turned right trying to figure where this Dr. Peterson's office was, though I later found out the prison was huge.

Well the bigger the less they can control, I thought.

I noticed how this place felt more comfortable than the basement in which I spend most afternoons as a child, and although most people could consider themselves 'trapped' here, I felt free and away from my responsibilities here. Of course I didn't enjoy the police's company but that was handleable. I wondered if Dr. Peterson would explain how my sister got involved to catch me, quite intelligent I'd say.

A couple minutes later, I noticed a group of prisoners looking at me with bare stares, they all wore the luminescent orange clothes that the officer had given me before. One of them, the tallest of them all, wore a tattoo on his face that read 'De Sang' which meant 'Out Of Blood' in french. I slyly laughed with my back on them, what kind of tough dude wrote this on their face, I thought.

"Hey newbie, why don't you come and introduce yourself to us?" A deep voice yelled from the other side of the hall.

"I thought the rumours spread fast here.." I muttered, turning my face around and purposely exposing my scary arms and the snake that travelled all the way to my neck.

"What'd you say?" Another one next to him said walking closer to me.

"Are you deaf? Sorry am I located in a prison for disabled people?"

The man showed an angry expression and purposely spat close to me. "Do you want to die?" He threatened.

"What if I do?" I answered confidently.

"You're one stupid man," the guy who talked first commented.

I walked away ignoring his comment and fortunately quickly finding Dr. Peterson's office.

As I opened the door, a fairly old man greeted me. "Hello, welcome, I was expecting you Mathias, what took you so long?" His voice sounded raspy as if he had been smoking almost all his life.

"Just saying hi to a couple of friends," I lied comfortably.

"I see. Well, my name is Dr. Peterson, but you probably already know that. Cutting straight to the point, I wanted to see you to check on you and hopefully try some tests."

"Tests? Check? What is there to check, doctor? How do I know you will fairly judge me and magically make me a happier person?" I sat in front of him on one of the plastic chairs, while wondering how they had allowed such weaponry.

"Now let's not get defensive, alright. I come in good peace, and I just want to help you. Your lawyer spoke to me. You're being accused of murder, kidnapping, asasault, burglary, torture, cemetery vandalism and desecration‎, and animal abuse. The judge is highly considering you on death row."

I nodded in agreement while trying to remember how my brothers were the ones who had committed much of those crimes. "Huh, so my sister managed to lay all of my family's crimes on me. Fascinating."

"I'm aware you have some mental issues as well, so I want to be able to understand them so the judge can decide a better option for you."

I laughed at the doctor's joke. "Alright, so you think I'm crazy and if you tell that to the judge they'll decide not to execute me?" I laughed again this time harder at the comment's absurdity.

"This is serious, Mathias. Don't you want to live?"

"Not really. I lived long enough to know I suffered enough."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Doc, I don't need you to tell me I'm crazy. I know I have anxiety, bipolar disorder, ptsd, depression, and psychotic disorders. I know I'm a fucking monster okay, and I don't intend to explain nor discuss the causes for this either."

"Why's that?"

"Because you'd be terrified to know, doc."