16th of July, 1927
I'm finally back home from the basement of the courthouse. My father came to pick me up. They suggested I go to an asylum, but he refused. Quite frankly, I'd take any change of scenery gladly, so I was disappointed to go back home. The incident that sent me to the courthouse basement is still fresh in my mind, so I'll relay it here, on these pages.
It was a pretty normal day. I started by checking on my collection of mice. My father had brought home a copy of the Tribune and I decided to cut out some pictures for my scrapbook. There were some great finds in the paper.
About halfway through the paper I saw a photograph of a picture show. It reminded me of the time I'd spent with my friends, the Cunninghams, when I was younger. That, in turn, brought back painful memories of being locked in the basement by my father. I spent about three months in the basement before my father would let me out into the rest of the house, but not outside.
I was seized by an inconceivable rage and my father chose that exact moment to walk by me. I drove the scissors into his leg as if by instinct. His agonized cry was enough to quench my anger, so I pulled the scissors out and wiped them on my pants. It left a bloody stain, but I didn't want to dirty the pictures I was cutting. My mother screamed bloody murder. She was over-reacting, as usual.
Soon the police arrived and I was taken away to the courthouse basement. It was dark and dank, but I didn't mind it one bit. It was the first time I'd gone out in the sunlight in years. It blinded me for a few minutes, but I soon grew accustomed to it once more. However, they took it away from me again once they put me in the basement. They didn't want to put me with Negroes in the jail.
I think my father expected me to apologise when he came to pick me up, or at least feel bad, but I won't and I don't. I'd do it all over again, if I had the chance. Unfortunately, they won't let me near anything sharp for a while. I've been locked up alone for so long, I couldn't imagine living in any other way, and it's all my father's fault.
Boo