• Jail

    “Get up.” A policeman woke me from my sleep. “You’re leaving.” I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I looked through the bars of the window across the hall.

    “But it’s daylight,” I mumbled. Ever since I could remember, I’ve slept in the daylight and wandered in the night. Even here in this cell I slept in the days and yelled curses and stared at the ceiling during the night. There was no way that I was going to just start walking around during the daytime again so soon. I closed my eyes and fell back onto the cot.

    “Get. Up. NOW!” The policeman shouted. I opened my eyes to glare at him and wondered if I should Shift and attack him. Just Shifting would make him flip out, probably. I did already have life in jail. As entertaining as it would be, I decided against it. I imagined my moral compass moving 0.0000001 millimeters towards good. I doubt it even moved that much.

    I groaned and got up. Before I could stretch, he grabbed my arm, twisted it, and cuffed it behind my back. He did the same with the other. “Ow,” was all I said to two twisted wrists. He raised his eyebrow at me not screaming in pain, but I have a high pain threshold. Actually, it was more like a cloud. You could shoot me several times and I would hardly notice. It has happened before. Don’t ask.

    When I stepped outside, I was greeted by a million flashes of light from the newspaper cameras. I winced and tried to cringe away from the light, but the policeman jerked by arm with all him might. My arm got dislocated from its socket. I glared at him, but he didn’t notice. Annoyed, I kept walking. I closed my eyes, Sensing where I was walking and what was going on.

    The news, they were interested in what was going on because I was the first female to ever go to Greyman’s. It was always males who were murderers who got caught. Never the females, we were too crafty. Score one for the chicks.

    I was shoved into a prison bus. I hit the cage guarding the driver’s seat, hard. So hard, in fact, that the steel cut my face and arms in several places. At least the force of it popped my arm back into my shoulder. I walked down the isle with my eyes closed, finding and empty seat. I stood beside it as the policeman uncuffed my hands and shackled them in front of me. He then locked shackles on my ankles and placed chains on them, linking my limbs together. Finally, he locked the chain on the loop on the floor.

    I sat down. Or rather, the policeman shoved me down onto the seat. I ignored him. I kept my eyes closed, Sensing him as he turns away. When he did so, I stuck my tongue out at him. It earned a few snickers from the other inmates. Unfortunately, the cop turned to see what they were laughing about and saw me with my tongue still out. My action earned me a punch in the face and a broken and bloody nose.

    I waited until he walked a little ways away down the isle, and then gave him a raspberry. He turned and stalked back to me. He gave me another punch in the face. I laughed at him, opened my eyes, and Healed myself, sealing all the cuts, straitening my nose, mending all the broken bones. He stared at me in disbelief. I stuck my tongue out at him again. He punched me for a third time, this time walking away before I Healed myself in front of him again. I heard him mutter, “Freak,” before he exited the bus. I laughed again.

    “Dooshbag,” I called. I saw him freeze and debate with himself whether or not to come and pummel me ’till I begged for mercy. He decided against it.

    “Dude, are you insane?” A boy of about 17 asked.

    I thought about it. “Pretty much,” I told him. I laughed again.

    “What’s your name, Crazy?”

    I laughed yet again. “I’m Insanity.”