“Good morning to you…good morning to you…good morning, dear
Alan…”
“G…g…good morning to you!”
“Alan, why are you so sad?”
“Why wouldn’t I be sad? This isn’t good morning. It’s
fucking dark in here, Ally! I don’t see any sunshine! I don’t hear any cock-a-doodle-doos!
Instead all I hear are screams. It could be another prisoner screaming in pain.
It could be a guard screaming bullshit instructions. Or it could be me
screaming ‘cause I’m constantly in fucking pain! Why, Ally? Why all the worms
and maggots?”
“I’m a biologist. I deal with such creatures on a daily
basis. I’m not going to just sacrifice my life’s work because you find earth’s
critters disgusting. Everything in this world has its own special place. It
could be a bat eating mosquitoes. It could be a pack of wolves hunting down
deer. It could even be something as natural as a mother bird regurgitating
worms into her babies’ beaks.”
“Cut the bullshit! You know how disgusting you really are!
Scott had it right all along and I didn’t listen to him! He’s got more common
sense than the two of us put together!”
“Don’t you talk to me that way, little boy! If I wasn’t a
hallucination, I’d wash your chubby mouth out with soap! I left Scott George on
his own for the same reason I left his father Carter. They rejected me, just
like you’re rejecting me now. I tried to keep the peace between you and Scott.
I even showed up at his trial to put in the best possible word for you. But you
threw that all away when you tried to stab him in your cell. Now you’re in the
darkest part of jail and you’ve no one to blame but yourself!”
“It should be Scott in this room, not me!”
“Then prove it, Alan! Scott became the man he is today
because he fought for everything he believed in whether it was right or wrong.
Now’s your time to fight. You may be under lock and key, but your war with
Scott is far from over. As long as your mind continues to destroy you from the
inside, you have all the reason in the world to fight. You don’t want these
images and words, do you? Forget the worms and maggots for a minute. Your real
enemy isn’t anything that can be found in the animal kingdom. It’s your own
weakness!”
“Weakness? I’ve been beating ass since the day I was born
and you have the gall to call me weak? What about all the crybabies on the
playground who threw a fit because they couldn’t hang with me? What about all
the teachers who care more about precious self-esteem than they do about the
real world? Why aren’t you calling them weak?”
“Because they’re not weak, Alan. They have the kind of
strength you could only dream of having: strength in numbers. You’re only one
man trying to fight an entire world. But if Mr. Simpson has taught you
anything, it’s to pick apart the army one soldier at a time. Mr. Simpson may
have softened over this long exhausting semester, but that doesn’t mean you
have to. I want you to take every ounce of your insanity and use it as a
weapon. Fists alone have achieved nothing.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in solitary confinement!
You even said yourself you’re a fucking hallucination! Who am I supposed to use
this weapon on? There’s nobody here with me! Even the guards have tuned me out,
for Christ’s sake!”
“You can’t stay in solitary confinement forever, Alan. Even
the strictest prosecutors know this to be true. For what you did, you won’t
even be in jail forever. You may be a destructive bastard, but you’ve never
once murdered another human being. Implanting suicidal thoughts in someone else
doesn’t count. I’m talking about the worst kind of murder there is. I’m talking
about animalistic rage that can only be forged in darkness like this. Channel
that rage and don’t let the world get away with locking you up like this!”
“…You want me to survive this place…by beating the shit out
of everyone here? You want me to find my exit by pushing around people more
powerful than me?”
“This isn’t the sandbox, Alan. This is jail. If you don’t
stand up for yourself here, nobody else will. The guards aren’t here for your
protection. They’re here to make sure you conform. They’re here to use you as a
punching bag whenever they damn well feel like it. You’re not going to let that
happen, are you?”
“…Never…I never wanted to be a part of society…I never
wanted to follow anyone’s rules…Why should these assholes in uniform be any
different? Is it because they have keys? Is it because they have so-called
training? Is it because they’re tougher than me?! I don’t fucking think so!”
“Good! That’s what I want to hear from you! That’s what I’ve
been waiting to hear from you since I married your father! Nobody pushes my
baby around! And when I say baby, I’m not talking about that ungrateful snake
Scott! I’m talking about by one true baby. The one I’ll forever cherish. The
one I’ll forever spoil and love. Alan…this is your time. Don’t screw it up!”
Alan Young awoke in his solitary confinement cell with rough
stubble on his chin, razor sharp hairs poking out of his bald head, and his
heart beating a combination of fire and nitro glycerin. He breathed heavily
like a wounded animal. He lusted for violence and aggression with bloodshot
eyes. He smiled so hideously that he could smell his own sour breath.
Only a small patch of light illuminated the room through the
barred window to the outside. Even though the sun was barely rising over the
landscape, Alan still had lost track of how much time he spent cooped up in
here. No clocks, no indication from the guards, only the occasional shitty meal
which was inconsistent with the rest of the feedings.
Alan stood his clumsy body up and grabbed hold of the bars
while staring out into the horizon. He held his stepmother’s words deep inside
him until his very core was hot enough to melt away the last of his sanity.
What once was a heart was now a heap of ashes. What once was a racing mind was
now a zombie’s rage. The urge to kill had taken over his entire body. Just one
taste of blood…anybody’s blood…
Surely another prisoner would satisfy his violent appetite
just fine. He even believed some of the guards deserved a few undead
thrashings. But the ultimate dessert at the end of this blood-soaked meal would
be none other than Scott Marcus George. All Alan needed was one opening to
strike. One tiny mistake made by another occupant of this hellhole. The rest
would come as naturally as breathing.
“Scotty-Boy…I’m coming for you…and not even your
marsh-dwelling girlfriend will be able to save your skinny ass this time!” Alan
ranted as he shook the bars like a steroid-pumped professional wrestler. “I’m
coming for you, motherfucker!”
THE END?
