misunderstood

Granted: I am an inmate of a mental hospital; my keeper is watching me, he never lets me out of sight; there’s a peephole in the door, and my keeper’s eye is the shade of brown that can never see through a blue-eyed type like me. It’s not like I deserve to be here. He deserved, so I thought. I hated looking back at the day, but I couldn’t help it.

Everything had been going well and my life was perfect, well almost. I had a decent group of friends, good grades, and David. David was the new guy I had been talking to and for once I actually liked someone.

We were all out together one day, me, him and all of our friends. I hadn’t known him that long which is why we weren’t official yet. We were at dinner, he paid for me, held doors opens, and all that cheesy stuff. He understood me, I guess that’s why I really liked him.

He paid for the bill and I said bye to all my friends. I got in his car, a black Honda Corolla, I remember it clearly.

 “Where are we going?” I asked him because it didn’t seem like he was taking me the normal way home. “There’s someone who wants to meet you” he replied.

 It must be his mom, I thought. It was a little early for all this, but I didn’t bother to question it.

We pulled up to his house, which I had never been to. It looked really dark. Either there was no one home or everyone was asleep. I checked the time as he walked me inside; it was ten-o-clock. There was definitely no one here.

“What are we doing?” I asked him. “I just thought we could use some alone time” he replied, “Plus my mom will be home soon and she’s been dying to meet you.”

I don’t know what came over me at that given moment, but I started having flashbacks. My uncle had raped me as child. I was only ten and he had taken advantage of me. I guess I had thought David might do the same, so when he reached out to touch me I began kicking and screaming. I couldn’t stop myself. This is why I hadn’t gotten close to any other male ever since, including my father.

“NOOO” I screamed.

David looked concerned and to be perfectly honest he seemed scared. He tried to stop me and that made matters worse. Before I knew blood was splattered everywhere, his mom and little sister came home and called the police. I remember their screams the most; I even hear them in my dreams. I had killed him with a kitchen knife, and now here I am. You see I’m not crazy, just misunderstood. -Breanne