Life...

          The judge called for order, and announced my sentence, “Life in prison without parole.”

I was taken out of the courtroom in handcuffs, a bulletproof vest on under my nondescript clothes. My parents were crying, but I walked by without a

word. They didn’t understand that I was innocent, that everyone else is against me, and that they are all lying. Even the judge hated me, sentencing me to this living nightmare with a satisfied, righteous look on her face. One month later, I sit alone in my cell at the Bluesky maximum-security prison, the highest level security prison in New England. “They call this life in prison,” I think aloud, “Some name.”

“That’s ironic,” says Brooke, “the only way you’ll ever get out is to die.”

“I don’t want to think about that now,” I snap, “Why are you here? I thought you left after the accident.”

“That was no accident Grace; you killed Summer, your best friend,” Brooke whispers, “Remember? She was dangerous. She said you were sick, that there was something wrong with you. She was never your friend; she was scared of you all along.”

“No,” I manage to choke out, “We have always been friends. She would never think tha-”

“Really,” Brooke cut me off. “You don’t believe that. You are a freak, a monster. Summer knew that, she was going to tell everyone. You did the right thing, you protected us. I’m your only real friend now. No one else wants to be friends with a freak, not to mention a murderer.”

“No,” I scream, “I didn’t do anything wrong, I’m not crazy, I’m innocent! I’m not a murderer, I’m not a murderer. I would never hurt anyone it’s not true, it’s not.” I  was babbling now, nearly incomprehensible, “Leave me alone! I’m not a killer, I’m just not. I’m not crazy. There’s nothing wrong with me.”  Brooke and the other voices fade away, and I realize that I have been alone all along, screaming at air. The door opens. Strong hands undo the restraints that strap me to my bed, picking me up and leading me away.

“Time for your medication, Grace,” says the doctor, “Your sister’s back again, isn’t she, and your nightmares? When Brooke and Summer died, it was a freak accident. It wasn’t your fault. Do you understand?” I don’t answer him. Instead I choose to stare at the wall, the clock seeming to melt off it. Everything seems blurry now. Later, in my padded cell, staring in the Plexiglas mirror, I don’t recognize myself. My eyes are dull and lifeless, my hair a ratty mess. My clothes say “Property of the Massachusetts Mental Health Center”, and are a dull gray. No matter what the doctors say, I know I will never leave here alive. I need to take responsibility for what I’ve done, even if I don’t remember it clearly. I know Brooke is right, it must have been my fault. I am a killer, a freak. Hands trembling, I find the medication I have been saving for a week, pretending to take it while really hiding the pills in my cheek. Brooke holds my hand as I swallow. My body is shaking and I realize that I am afraid. Soon, everything is going in and out of focus, and already it is hard for me to breathe. The doctors will find me soon, but the last thing I see is Brooke’s triumphant smile. No one can reach me now.