Beyond the Walls of My Mind

Beyond the Walls of My Mind

The usually bright white skyscrapers that line the streets of the city crash to the ground in a violent boom. The tumbling walls cause clouds of dust to sweep across the ground in grey and brown wonders. The dust whispers cries of death as it travels into my nose, causing the smell of fire to encapsulate the entirety of my lungs. I manage a breath before my back is met with the crack of a baton, sending excruciating pain to travel along my spine. The enforcer catches my full body weight as my legs give out from the overwhelming pain that takes over my figure. I try to scream but the enforcer covers my face with his overwhelmingly large left hand, creating a barrier that my voice is unable to break through.

I struggle against his hold for what seems like hours. In the midst of my struggle, my breath becomes short, hands become bloody, and thoughts become fuzzy. My mind begins to blur as my once bright and colorful vision turns black, sending white, blue, and purple stars to disrupt my vision. 

I wake up to searing pain that is too much for my frail body to bear. My mind wanders as I try to examine my surroundings. Anxiety spikes through me as I realize metal poles securely hold my head in place on a cold medical table.

Then comes the noise. A horrifying and excruciating noise bounces off of the white walls that forbid me from escaping. The sound enhances as the silver box above me sinks farther towards the cage that traps my head.

Then, the hallucinations begin. My mind feels like mushy grass after a long, early spring rain. A hot breath forms against the nape of my neck as an unknown voice crawls into my ears, “Relax sweetheart. Enjoy the entirety of this rather… well… excruciating experience”.

Even with my eyelids covering my green, stinging eyes, I know that a smile has crossed the face of this man as he traces his fingers through my bloody hair. The sensation of touch sends a lighting bolt through my bloody, causing pain to travel from my head to toes. 

The voice of the man returns to my ears once more. However, instead of a whisper, it’s a laugh, “You should have known that the President would never let you get away with this. You won’t remember this conversation, however it seems reasonable for you to hear these words of wisdom one last time, the President is always precise”.

5 years later

The streets are, as usual, stripped of any type of life-form other than myself. My daily walk in what I call “wilderness” stays consistent with the blurred images that enter my mind. The weather is damp, causing fog to obscure my surroundings. As I walk, the familiar sense of being watched chills my shivering bones. I look around at the seemingly endless quantity of cameras that are shadowed by the dark overhangs of the roof. These cameras were specifically implemented into my own little town as a precaution for the so-called “troublesome behavior” that I was told that I committed in the past.

At the end of my walk, my eyes greet the unusually white and cracked exterior walls of my home. I have decided that these walls are more white than is deemed necessary. For most of my life, I always viewed white walls as pure white. However, after studying these walls for endless hours, I have come to realize that no white wall is ever purely white. Most shades of white are mixed with yellow to soften the sharp edges that a pure white causes. True white is harsh to look at, making it almost intolerable as a color. These walls however tell a different story. They seem to tell a story of death since the edges are blackened to a crisp, signaling a fire once engulfed this very space.

My head begins to throb in pain as an image of a bright white skyscraper meets with fiery ash to create a picture that I know is too horrifying for my scrambled mind to produce on its own. But how could that be possible? I shake my head violently, hoping that the image will dissolve.

I walk to the fridge to get water before sitting down to read the mandatory daily news. To my surprise, the rules have changed, causing a disruption in my schedule.

As a repercussion for the violations made against the President, new laws have been introduced into the system. 

The rules are as follows:

Rule 1: All unknown visions are to be described to the enforcer assigned to your living quarters.

Rule 2: All individuals must report breakages in the outer walls.

Rule 3: No type of rebellion against the President will be tolerated.

Any form of defiant nature against the rules listed above will result in immediate TERMINATION.

Remember, the President is always precise.

A knock on the door sends panic through my body. My lungs rise and fall as my trembling legs make their way to the entrance. Then, everything begins to shake. My eyes wander to the walls that are crumbling to the ground as a burst of energy travels through my living quarters, revealing a group of masked figures. These men swarm around me at great speed, causing panic to rise in my heaving chest. 

A man approaches me, whispering a series of words in my ear, “The President is never precise”.

Memories of the past flood my vision as the words of the man register in my mind. These were the words that I once announced for all the people to hear during the greatest battle in the kingdom. Hatred, rage, emptiness, and envy fill my aching heart as images of the President flash behind my burning eyes. All the lies and heartbreak sends my mind into a frenzy. My skin crawls as I remember the cuts and bruises from the bloody battles that I once fought. 

“Where’s my gun?”