Don’t Lock Me In Again

That night, I stood there, staring at the bed with the blue sheets, not knowing what to do.

"William, why are you on the floor?"

Mom's voice came from the doorway.

I shrank back into the corner when I heard her, arms wrapped tight around myself.

The mattress was too soft. When I lay on it, it sank under me, like something was pressing me down.

In the behavioral correction center, we slept on concrete. In winter, the cold cut straight through your spine and into your insides, but at least it was solid. Solid things wouldn't swallow you.

"Come on, get in the bed. The floor's cold."

I shook my head stubbornly.

Mom pulled me up anyway and set me on the mattress.

The moment the door clicked shut, I slid off again, quiet as I could, and curled back into the corner.

With my back against the wall, I could close my eyes. That was the only way I knew how to sleep and wake up alive.

The next morning at breakfast, Dad sat at the head of the table, talking on the phone.

"Hey, Mike. Yeah, we got him back. I'm telling you, it worked better than I expected. You remember what Judy was like. The second we sent William in, she straightened out. Her college acceptance letter's right there on the table."

He wasn't even trying to hide how pleased he was.

"Think about it. Three years of training one kid, and you get a top college graduate out of it. That's a pretty good return."

Three years of "training."

That was what he called it.

I sat there, pushing the oatmeal around in my bowl. My hands weren't shaking anymore because my whole arm had gone numb.

Judy set her bowl down. "Dad, can you not talk about that on the phone?"

"Talk about what? I'm just telling it like it is."

"William's sitting right here."

Dad glanced at me.

It wasn't how you look at your son. It was how you look at something you built.

"He understands. What he went through had a purpose."

He softened his voice, like he thought it made him sound gentle.

"William, are you happy your sister got into a good college?"

I nodded.

"That's what I thought."

That afternoon, Judy came into my room with a plate of fruit. She pushed the door, which was mostly closed, and crouched down in front of me.

"William, those three years… What was it like?"

My fingers tightened on the blanket.

Vincent's voice echoed in my head. "Watch your mouth when you get out."

"It was…fine," I said.

"You keep stopping when you talk. You didn't use to do that."

I used to…?

My eyes drifted to the photo on the wall.

The boy in the photo had short hair and a lean build, muscle defined beneath the fabric. He was clad in a tracksuit, running across the court as if nothing could touch him.

Was that me?

It couldn't be.

Vincent said I was born wrong, said I would always be a runt. At best, I was just something for people to use.

"I've…always been like this."

Judy went quiet for a second, then asked, "Are you hurt anywhere?"

Yes. Everywhere.

My legs had been broken and set wrong. My left ear barely worked.

There were dark bruises across my lower stomach. Every time I came out of the isolation room, I would hit myself with a stick.

And there were worse injuries in places I couldn't even look at.

"No."

Her hands clenched, then slowly loosened.

"Can you roll up your sleeves? Let me see."

I pulled my arms behind me.

"Judy!"

Dad's voice came from the living room.

"What are you doing in there? Don't push him. The instructor said kids who got out just needed time. Take it slow."

Judy stood up and walked to the door, then looked back at me.

It seemed like she wanted to say something, but in the end she only said, "The apple's sweet. Try some."

The door closed.

Dad's voice came through the wall, muffled.

"Look at you now. You got into a top college. That's all I ever wanted. Everything William went through was for you. Once he settles in, we'll send him overseas for school. Two college kids. That's perfect."

I picked up a slice of apple and put it in my mouth.

Was it sweet? I couldn't tell.

My tongue didn't work right anymore.

Mom came in again, picked up a slice, and held it out to me.

"William, your dad wants to have a family dinner on Saturday. We're celebrating Judy getting into college. Your Uncle Ronan and Uncle Chester are coming. You should come out and say hello."

Dad's voice followed from outside.

"Act right. Don't embarrass me."

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