CRACKED

DAY ONE

Ok. Technically. Day two. They brought me in around eleven, as far as I can remember, and now it’s nearly three.

They were smart about it this time though. Sedating me as we pulled up to the gates. Very smart.

Being the Harry Houdini of Lexington Asylum doesn’t get you many trust merits. Not much has changed, though. My old friend Straight Jacket still gives better hugs than anyone I know. Maximum Security is the best. No annoying bunkmates, comfy beds, sparse décor, and that wonderful feeling you get from being considered a caged animal.

I get up to pace, my favorite pass time, but, as they seem to be learning, they’ve bound my ankles. It strikes my funny. I laugh, uninhibited. It’s feral. And resonating.

Shut the fuck up, you insane cunt. My welcoming neighbor calls cheerily.

Who’re you calling insane? I shriek and giggle again. He grumbles but apparently thinks himself above it all and shuts up.

I roll onto my back and find that someone has painted a lovely picture on the ceiling. Some art pieces still have the power to drag me back to sanity every once and a while…this is not one of those pieces.

A garish smiley face grins maniacally down at me with the words "Don’t worry, be HAPPY" written underneath. The medium most likely blood or feces, but it’s too dark to tell. But it sure does make me smile.

I know, of course, if I really wanted to put forth the effort, I could escape again. I have a magical ability to vaporize into dust in a seconds notice. But, obviously, I’ve always been good at that. It’s a learned skill after all.

I feel around in the jacket for the loose seam that’s the chink in this armor and when I find it I only rip it a little, unlike last time. When they find me tomorrow morning I want them to also find this jacket fully intact. Not a string out of place.

I slip it off and fold it neatly on the bed. I crawl the best I can over to the sink but, this time, they’ve removed the mirror.

They are getting smarter. I whisper.

Instead I bite my finger until I break skin. I squeeze the wound, feeling the electric jolt circuit through me. Waiting until I’m sure enough blood is flowing, I start to leave a nice note for officers who now think they are permanently in control of my freedom.