I glanced at the door and saw that it was slightly open. Freedom was swinging by hinges and if I didn’t take this opportunity, I would be stupid. I took a deep breath, looked back at the bed, and decided the heck with it. I went to the door, breathed in the air of outside corridors and peeked outside. Nobody. Nobody who would stop me, at least.

            My footsteps on the tile floor were loud. The sound was deafening to my ears and I shrank against the wall. I was wearing all white. If I could only shave off my hair, then I would blend in. There was a noise and I locked my limbs to keep myself from jumping. It was coming from down the hall. It was a sharp laugh and then a giggle and I shook my head, disgusted.

            People these days are crazy.

            Now that I’ve heard one sound, I could hear more. Soft whimpers, tiny cries, high-pitched laughter, and I could only come to one condition. Crazy. This was a mental asylum, not a home. Nobody in a regular family would act like this.

            There was a hub of noise and I was instinctively drawn to it. I still kept myself pressed against the wall, just in case, just in case someone saw me.  I walked over the threshold and finally, civilization. There were colors, burst of the rainbow, a few splotches of black but that was always better than the white I was accustomed to. Stripes, dots, flowers, ugly patterns, unfit matches, the whole gamut of designs. But I was happy. I was human again.

            I sat down next to a woman. She was talking on her phone, angrily barking at someone whose identity was lost over telephone lines, satellite and pieces of plastic. I sat quietly next to her until someone turned to me.

            “Hello young man.”

            She was an elderly grandma. In her eyes were sparks of life but in the crow’s feet by eyes tell a lifetime of sorrow. , settled into a sad smile, and I wish I could say something to make the negative feelings go away.

            “Hello, Grandmother.”

            She smiled, a genuine one this time. For a brief moment it was like I brought something to life and then the smile dimmed as she remembered where she was, and whatever it was she thought of. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been called that.”           

            “Then I will always call you that,” I smiled at her.

            She patted my hand. “He was just like you too. A nice boy. He was smart,  top of the class, and so handsome. We thought he was going to college but something happened. He started to throw fits and he would break everything he saw and nobody knew what was wrong. It escalated, and one day, he killed himself. We found him strangled with twenty ties. It was horrible.”

            I shuddered and withdrew my hand from hers. Ties around the neck hurt. I’ve done that before. I shimmied back onto the chair. Deep breaths, Himchan. Deep, calming breaths, just like the nurses taught me. But my hands were already balling into fists and I could see red even though red was sitting ten seats away. Even though it was just the people in black in front of me and everyone was wearing muted colors, I see red.

            The scream built up in my throat before I could stop it and then it was a struggle to lock down my throat. I struggled and she was holding onto my arms. And I wanted to fight against the strong grip. I needed to breathe. I came out for air. I came out for freedom. I didn’t want to be locked up again.

            The grandmother, looked me in the eyes, she looked me in the eyes and she shook her head. “You need to calm down.” It was easier said than done. By then, out of the corner of my eyes, I could see the teal blue uniform of my prisoners and I wanted to stop crying. I need to be quiet, shrink into the wall, camouflage.

            My hands were pulled behind me. My arms were about to be pulled out of their sockets. This was it. I saw the mask, I struggled. It came over me and I was gone.

            I was chained. I was surrounded by whiteness. I was normal. Why was I here? I could hear talking. “He had another fit. We have to make sure his door remains locked. This is the fourth time he’s gotten out.”

            “Poor boy. Gone crazy and nobody ever came to see him. He doesn’t’ even think he’s crazy.”

            I’m not crazy. I was normal. I was white. I was a part of the white. Chains around my arms, and then I heard the door close. And a little piece of me died inside. There goes the sound of freedom. 

Hi guys~

It's summer and once I have my schedule sorted out, I'll be able to determine how often I can try to update.

Once more, thank you for the continuous support