Robots Don't Know Angels

Chapter II : A Car In Need of a New Muffler

But I lied. At the beginning of eighth grade I was taken away from my mother. "Here... boy take these pills after me." My mother is drunk and she's lying on the couch, she hands me 6 or 7 pills and I obediently swallow them without any liquids. "Your good for nothing father is coming back. That useless motherfucker..." She starts to dry heave and pukes on the living room rug. "I'm not letting that fucker sell my body again." I watch my mother down another glass of whiskey. I start shaking as I watch her swallow more than just a few capsules from a bottle labeled Valium. "Come... here boy." My mother beckons to me, her green eyes unnaturally calm. I'm terrified, but I walk up to her.

"For what I've done... I-" Tears form in her eyes as she struggles with her words in her drunken stupor. "If only you didn't look so much like your goddamn father..." My mother starts choking and I watch in horror as her eyes loll back, foam coming out of her mouth and blood soon thereafter. Those were my mother's last words to me. There was no apology, no "I love you," just an "If only you didn't look like your goddamn father." What was I expecting?


The police station did not get much from me after I had my stomach pumped. They wasted no time questioning me in the hospital. "Were you close to your mother?"

"..."

"Who gave you these burns?"

"..."

"Why did you take these pills?"

I don't respond to the social worker either after she requested us to be left alone for a few minutes. "You know I'm only trying to help you. If you don't let me know what's wrong I can't help you." The tired woman pauses, searching my eyes for any sign of emotion, weakness... anything that can give her prying rights into my life. She finds no such thing. "Elliot..." She finally sighs, "If you don't cooperate I have no choice, but to send you to Southview. Is that what you really want?" Just then my cell phone starts to vibrate. It's another text message from Angela.

a: im at the theater

A different gruffer looking police officer walks into the room. Probably the bad cop. "So what we doing 'bout this kid? Is he a nut or what? He's got no other family to take him in ya' know." The social worker glared at him, "He's not a nut. He just needs to be treated until he learns how to cope properly."

"Yeah, whatever lady. That's what I hate about you people, always trying to make a sickness out of everythin', with your labels, prescriptions and medical jargon. You can't just replace somethin' in them and they be up and runnin' right like a car that needs a new muffler."

"Excuse me?"

"It's the truth..."

a: its almost 6:30 I hope you on your way

a: you suck I just bought the popcorn. you owe me one :P

a: previews started ! hurry lol

a: where r u im getting worried?

I look at my cell for a long time before I reply.

el: Sorry.

a: whats wrong? did something happen?

I shut off my cell phone and enter the police car. I stare at the back of his seat until I arrive at the institution three and a half hours later. There is a sign that says "Southview Mental Institution for Adolescents." The cement building looks like a prison. The grass is artificial , generic Walmart tulips line the front of the building. I step out the car to be greeted by a middle-age woman in a brown pantsuit with severe features probably from her tight hair bun. "No electronics allowed." She snatches my cell phone out of my hand and turns around. "Follow me."


Three Years Later~

The florescent light is glaring in my face. The walls are painted some sickly patient color. The room is small enough to house two normal people, but instead there's four. Sorry, not normal people, just a fucked up pair of normal people. Normally fucked up people. Luckily, Cesar is out today. Probably passed out at some random house party again. Damn, it's way too small in here! My metal bed frame is bent at an unnatural angle from ever since I kicked it against the wall. It added another dent to the wall. Cesar calls it the "Wall of Dents." A hungover Maurice peers in the doorway and grunts,

"Breakfast."

I slip on a white tee that says "14" and some gray jeans. I silently walk down the winding hallway. One. Two. Three. Fourth ceiling light. The one that flickers, turn left. The cafeteria smells disgusting as usual. The yellowing ceiling is peeling and hanging precariously over today's slop. I'm last in line and there are already no tables left. I close my eyes, shutting out this stupid reality of what my life is now.

"Hey, you 'ant spaghetti 'ith that or not?"

The lunch lady practically has one tooth, so her "w"s are nonexistent. I shake my head. It's not like I'll be able to eat anyway. I take about three steps before being violently shoved into a table, thus proving that statement as the spaghetti sloshes out and marinara spills all over my shirt.

"Whoops! Sorry!" Someone mock apologizes, laughing. I wipe most of the noodles off of myself and get up only to be pushed down again. My knee hits the cement floor. Hard. Ignoring the searing pain, I attempt to stand up again. Unfortunately for me, the janitor actually mopped for once. My face falls straight spaghetti. I told the lady I didn't want any. There's a hushed silence before everyone starts laughing at me.

"Elliot, are you alright man?"

I snap out of my daze, "Huh?" It's Cesar, extending his hand to me. I shrug him off and get up. "What's up with you today? I walk in to you frozen on the floor, spacing out." We're walking toward a table, that he apparently saved for me. Was I really spacing out again? It is around that time again. When she died.. As if reading my mind, Cesar mock slaps the air near my back just as we reach the table to lighten the mood. He knows I hate human contact.


disclaimer: don't own show