approx.902 words

©2000 Roland Mann

Alone

I am alone. Here. By myself. In this room of brick and slab and concrete and stone. I am shut off from outside. Yet not really. There are others here. They are alone, too. We are all alone together. All in this big building of rooms.

I was always alone. Not always here. In this room. But somewhere else. In a different room. A room of carpet and air conditioning and nice smells. Not bad smells like in this room.

There were others there, too. Two others. They were alone. They smiled. Their smiles were fake. They beat me. They also had rooms of carpet and nice smells. They sometimes left their rooms. But I could not leave mine.

But I did leave. Sometimes. To be somewhere else. In my secret place. In the woods. Trees and squirrels and birds and more nice smells. The two did not know I would leave. The two did not know of my secret place. If they did, their smiles would be frowns.

I did not like being beat. It hurt. Head and arms and legs and back. I have been beaten with everything. Belts and switches and hands and phones and trophies. It hurt everywhere. Trophies hurt my head the worst.

But sometimes I was not alone. In my secret place. In the woods. Sometimes there were others. They had smiles. But they were fake, too. They were not alone. They would not see me. In my secret place. These people who were not alone. I would hide. Bushes and rocks and trees. I could watch them for a long time. In the woods.

Then they would separate. Pee in the woods. Near my secret place. No one to watch. But I would watch. And I would act.

I did not want to be beaten more. So I beat them first. Rocks and sticks and tires and vines. Rocks were the best. It made them bleed. Just like the trophies made me bleed.

Most would not have time to yell. Rocks hit. More blood. Then I would drag them to my secret place. So I would not be alone. But really, I still was.

But sometimes they would yell. Death and blood and help. The rocks would still cause blood. Then no more yells.

Then the one who did not pee would not see the one who did. They would yell. They would want to find the one who peed. In the woods. The one who was now in my secret place. Look and yell and search and scream. They did not want to be alone. Fear.

The first would not be afraid. Silence in my secret place. The second would be very scared. Panting and sweating and cursing. First would not answer. First would never answer.

But tears would come if second found first. In my secret place. Crying and more cursing. There were others there, too. In my secret place. But they couldn't see them. The others were hidden.

Second would finally see me. More fear. Helpless and trapped and crying. I always had another rock. Rocks were the best. More blood.

Then first and second were together again. Neither smiling. Neither breathing. Neither moving. With the others who where there. In my secret place. Yet they were all still alone. In the woods.

But one time, I was not alone. In the woods. I was running. Rocks are bad. Bullets are worse. Shooting and whizzing and thudding. First and second had found two who were alone. Together. Bloody. Then they found the others. In my secret place. Coughing and cursing and puking.

They had seen me. The dogs. Rocks and trees and bushes did not matter. I was not alone. In my secret place. They were there. But really, I was still alone.

Bullets finally found me. While I was running. In the woods. Away from my secret place. It was not secret anymore. They knew about it. They were not alone. The bullets were theirs. Stinging and pushing and thumping and bleeding.

Then darkness. I was alone.

Then I was not. They were all standing around me. They were all alone, but they were all together. Cursing and stitching and pressing. I was really alone.

Then the two came. They said I was not in my secret place. I had a room of carpet and air conditioning and nice smells. The did not know of my secret place. They were surprised. But they were alone. They did not tell them that I could not leave that room. As they left theirs.

Then the big man. He was alone. In a big chair. In front. Bang. Court to order. Whispers and notes and stares. The big man is like the two. He put me in this room. Of brick and slab and concrete and stone. Said it was better than the room of carpet and air conditioning and nice smells.

The big man also put the two in a room. Alone. Not together. A room of brick and slab and concrete and stone. Like this room. Gasps and faints and shock. Court to order. Said two were not fit to have one.

Not fit to keep one in a room of carpet and air conditioning and nice smells. Blood from trophies and phones were not good for one. The two were the makers of my secret place.

In the woods.

All alone.