Sometime it's easy to forget where I am, if I just sit back on a wall and close my eyes. I, for that one still moment, lose everything...myself included. When I wake from that brief moment of solitude, I am shaken by reality, and thrust back into my small cage. I then tear my shaved head, scratching at where my lovely locks once where. I feel small bits of hair growing. They feel prickly, and I quickly put my hands back to my lap, not wanting to stir up any painful memories of my entry to this godforsaken place. I wait to be either escorted to cafeteria, or for lunch to be brought to me.
If, and I emphasize the word if, I am brought to the cafeteria, I am escorted by one guard. I am not maximum security, as there was no reason. I was not murderous, just...different. I am placed onto one of the hard, plastic stools and sit down to a meager meal. Meat, fruit, vegetable, drink. Just enough for this place to be acceptable by the government. I eat this slowly, observing the other minimum security inmates. I have noticed that the higher security level you are, the less privileges you get. For example, my level is forced to eat two per table, one at each end. There are around seven seats in between, and we are not to exchange glances for more than a second. I noted that I sat with a man, bald as everyone else, but with a sharp, angular face. I did not see his eye color, nor did I care. I would never met him.
We are numbers to the other patients. To the doctors, we are our first name, and our first name only. They knew our last names, but we were not respected enough to be given the option of using it. I was Mary, or Patient/Inmate 139. At times, I wish I could just be called Alice. It wouldn't be a crime. However, I am ignored, as if I were a dirty begger child. I dream of my old days, occasionally. I usually try to forget them, to push them out of my mind. I now realize that those days are long gone, and my ability has sunken into my body, pushing everything else out.
*************
"Mary," I was sitting on a bed, with a male checking my pressure points. "Have you been hallucinating lately?" I twitch.
"I do not hallucinate, sir." I said. My voice was raspy. I felt myself tilt my head in surprise. Then again, I wasn't used to not talking. The male let out a chuckle. He toyed with a few other medical tests I can not be bothered to tell about, and threw out question after question. I was never quite sure what they had do with my situation. After thirty minutes of quick check up, he helps me off the bed.
"Nothing odd," He adjusted his blouse. "You seem to be a bit hungry, even though you just ate. But, that's not too unusual." He lead me to the doorway, and motioned a guard to escort me back to my cell.
"Good afternoon." I said, my head hung to the floor.
