Transparent Color's

My eyes flicker in and out of consciousness, every time my eyes slightly open, all I can see is a bright blinding light. I’m in a laying position, but I feel like I’m moving in mid-air. Am I flying? No I can now feel the cushions underneath me and hear the squeaking of wheels. I start to see two figures, one on either side of me. There must be a third one, because I can hear his voice from behind me. The figures start coming into focus and I can see one man to the left of me and a woman to the right; both wearing white scrubs and a white mask. I must be in the hospital. I try to move but I can’t. I have straps going across my ankles, thighs, stomach, and shoulders. No, I think, this is not a hospital, it’s the psych clinic!

I try to say something, but no sound comes out, it is like my throat is clogged. We hit into two metal doors and the table stops moving. I hear whispers from behind me, between the three figures, and then a fourth one chimes in.

“Do you think she has ‘the family disease’?” male figure from my left says.

“Maybe, ask her some questions and take her through some tests, then we can determine her state of psyche.” The fourth voice says, and then leaves the room.

With a commanding tone to his voice, the male figure who pushed me from behind says, “Me and Daniel will do the test, you can do the questions.” Then they all leave the room, and I am now alone.

My whole body is shaking and my head pounding. The room has dim lighting, and the light bulb in the far left corner is flickering. I can’t take my eyes off the flickering light, I begin to breath short quick breathes and my heart races like in anticipation for the bulb to explode. The light, after what feels like a life time, finally burns out and I can lay my head back and breathe more normally.

My head still pounding, I begin to gather my thoughts and try to remember what had happened to cause me to be here. The only thing I remember is screaming at my Uncle and throwing my plate at him. Toby’s scared face and my Aunt grabbing me before jumping on my Uncle. Then I blacked out. Someone must have hit me on my head. My thoughts then switch to a comment the figure made, “Do you think she has ‘the family disease’?” What is that supposed to mean? Before I can think more into it, I feel a pinch in my right arm and I am out.

“Ms. Collins, Magolin Collins.” I faintly hear my name over a buzzing noise.

My head is spinning; I rub my eyes with both my hands, and then realize my arms are free. I am no longer strapped to a bed, I am now sitting on a metal chair, but my legs are still unmovable. I look down at my feet and see I have metal anklets on both my ankles. The anklets must be magnetic, because they are glued to the leg of the chair.

“Ms. Collins.” I look up toward the glass mirror in front of me. The voice comes again, “Good. You can hear me.” The voice sounds familiar, like the woman figure on my right. This must be the questioning they were talking about.

The voice comes, “Ms. Collins how is your head feeling?”

“It hurts and I still feel a bit dizzy,” I say not expecting any sympathy.

“Are you in your right mind to answer some questions?”

“What? No! I’m dizzy and my head is in a ton of pain. Would you be in your right mind?”

“You seem coherent, wouldn’t you like to get this over with Ms. Collins?”

“Yes...but what am I…”

“So are you in your right mind to answer?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I would like you to first state your full name, age, your parents’ names and where you are currently living.”

“My name is Magolin Jay Collins, I am… What day is it?” who knows how much time I’ve lost, is it the same day, or did my birthday pass?

“It’s April 4th,” The voice says.

“Oh, well then I turn 18 tomorrow. My parents are Linnard Jay Collins and Madeline Anne Collins, I live with my Aunt and Uncle currently.” I wait a moment; she is probably recording my information I am sure.

She comes, “Can you remember anything about your parents?”

A little taken aback with the question, I always get defensive when it comes to my parents, “I was young when they died you know? What would you like to know? What they looked like, smelled like, how they acted around me?” I have too much emotion in my voice.

“How they acted around you, I suppose?”

“Like amazing parents, they loved me,” I feel my body starting to tense up.

“Did they tell you anything? Give you anything?” The voice becomes sterner now.

“No.” So does mine.

“Thank you for your time.” The voice disappears and I am again left alone.

I sit in the chair confused. Why do they want to know about my parents? If I have the same condition as them, if they said or gave me anything, what does this mean? To the side of me the door opens and two men walk in holding some kind of metal stick. They each go to either side of the chair, place the metal stick on the leg of the chair and my anklets release. They each grab an arm and pull me up off the chair. Their fast movement causes me to lose my footing and they end up dragging me down a narrow hallway to the next room.

In this room there is a chair, similar to the one in the last room, but wires are attached to it. The wires lead off the chair to a machine in the wall behind it. They sit me down in the chair, my ankles attached again to the legs, but this time they have straps for my arms. They then start attaching the wires to my body. One wire is attached to each of my middle fingers, and one on each side of my temple.

My heart is beating so fast it just might break open my chest and fall out. My palms and forehead start sweating and I can’t help but breathe heavily. I want to scream! I won’t though, I’m sure my expression is saying how I feel and there is no need to give them any more. They are obviously doing all of this to scare something out of me, what that is I have no clue.

“Ms. Collins, we are going to ask you some questions, please be honest and descriptive.” The voice behind another glass mirror explains to me. I say ok and she begins.

“Describe your parents.”

“I can only describe the little I personally know and what people tell me.” I take a deep breath and continue, “My parents were warm. My father was tall, thin, had dark brown hair almost black looking, he had facial hair growing, not quite a beard or a mustache but every time he kissed me on the cheek it would prick me. My mother was very pretty, dirty blonde hair; exotic looking, she had these beautiful blue eyes, and was always smiling at me. Her voice was soft and gentle.” I pause for a minute pulling my emotions back, and then continue, “People would say they were good people…” the voice cuts me off.

“Who did they work for, Ms. Collins?” she seems to be impatient.

“Work for? My mother was a baker and my father an electrician, so whoever the employer was of those jobs.”

“No! Not their career employers. Who do they work for? ... Think before your answer this time, those wires attached to you are not there to make you feel good.”

I can hear the warning in her voice and I look down at the wires. My brain starts searching for some kind of answer to a question I don’t understand. I shout out the only other name I could think of, “Mr. Minds!”

I wait for a response, and then suddenly I feel a shock going throughout my body. It takes my breath away and I feel numb and tingly all over. My mind fogs up.

“I told you it would not make you feel good. I’m going to ask you one last time, who did your parents, work for?” then silence awaiting my answer.

My body starts twitching from the shock and I become frustrated for not knowing the answer. I don’t know what to say so I just shout out, “I was only four! How am I supposed to know the answer?”

Another shock goes through my body and I’m out again.

I wake up, my body still numb and now unmovable without the straps. My body went through so much stress it is not functioning. Now I lay on a medical bed, in a tiny room. In front of me on the wall there is light coming in from a tiny square window high up close to the ceiling, where no one can reach it. To the right of me is a small bathroom. To my left is the door to exit the room.

All I want to do is cry, but I’m too numb to do so. I wonder how long I’ve been sleeping, and if it’s my birthday or not; I hate not knowing the time and day. I wonder how Toby is, and if his parents are treating him well. Suddenly my mind goes to the fence and the statue outside it. And how I wish my day would start at the fence in front of the statue.

The door to the hallway opens suddenly and a woman, who looks about thirty, walks in. She gives me a smile as she approaches. I’m reluctant to do the same, for I do not know her reasoning to be here. She says hi and that her name is Clara and that she will be my nurse until I’m functional.

“What day is it?”

“It’s the 5th, Happy birthday Ms. Collins.” She gives me another smile, and then checks my breathing rhythm and heartbeat. She takes out a needle and starts to poke down my leg, my leg flinches and she smiles again.

“Excellent! Alright Hon, I’m going to get you something to eat and I’ll be right back.” She smiles and heads to the door.

“Thank you, I mean for wishing me a happy birthday.” I don’t know why I should be nice to anyone in this place, but for some reason she seems different. With yet another smile she says, “You’re welcome,” then leaves.

Twenty minutes go by and then Clara walks in the room holding a covered tray. She holds the tray with one hand and moves a small table in front of me with the other. She puts the tray onto the table. She then removes the cover and what do I see? Pink! There are pink grits, with some pink sprinkles that spell out “Happy Birthday”. I give her a smile and say thank you. Even though I’m not in a celebrating mood, it is a nice gesture. She takes the spoon and starts to feed me.

The more I eat the stronger I begin to feel, my body seems to be relaxing. After I finish eating, she tells me she has to get me dressed because I am going to see Dr. Bruit in an hour. Once I am dressed, she helps me into a wheel chair. She wheels me down to the end of the hall to a huge wooden door. Before opening the door, she bends down as if fixing the wheel and whispers in my ear,

“Keep your cool, and just nod and agree,” she bangs on the wheel and says, “Yep that’s better, these wheels always get loose.” She laughs then opens the door. “Dr. Bruit, Ms. Collins is here.” She rolls me in and leaves.

A large chair is behind the desk, which is facing a huge window. The chair turns around towards me and sitting there is an extremely paled skinned, tall man, with glasses, and curly orangie-red hair. He gives me a devious smile.

“Hello Ms. Collins, I bet you are wondering what is going on.” Hell-to-the-yes I am! He leans forward on his chair, places his left arm on the arm of the chair.

I nod and he continues, “I’m going to be honest with you, Ms. Collins, I’m not quite sure either, but what I do know is that you have a secret, and that secret needs to come out,” He says in a tone like he is talking to a little kid.

“Your Aunt and Uncle were executed yesterday, the boy is safe, but if you want him to stay safe, then you need to tell the secret, do we understand each other Ms. Collins?”

“Executed!” ugh damn it, I’m not supposed to speak.

“Yes, traitors normally are. But that is not what I asked you Ms. Collins. So I will proceed again, do we understand each other?”

He glares at me and all I can do is nod like Clara said. “Good. You will be going back to questioning later tonight, I say around ten o’clock. Mr. Minds is quite a busy man, you know. He will be sitting in this time, so please mind your manners, and stay upright. Sound good?”

I reply this time, “Yes,” and he calls Clara back into the room. “It was nice finally meeting you Ms. Collins, I’m glad we have an understanding, good-bye.”

He turns his chair back to the window. The back of that tall chair stays still; you would not even notice a life on it. He is the fourth voice I heard in the room with the flickering light. He has a very distinct voice kind of nasally and grindy. I hear the door open and my chair starts to move backwards. I look up at Clara; she smiles and gives her head a slight shake, as if telling me not to say a word. So I don’t. We enter my room and she helps me up on to the bed. I’m feeling my strength more and more returning, I wonder what was in those grits.

She places the blanket over me and I look at her face, it carries a secret. She says another nurse will be helping me, but that she’ll be back at eight to give me a bath and get ready. She does not give me a smile this time but nods and then leaves the room quickly.

The day drags, and I start to anticipate tonight’s questioning. What am I supposed to say? Are they going to shock me again or use another torture method? And where is Toby? Has he been going through this same thing? That’s the question I really want to know. If my Aunt and Uncle are really dead where will he go? I look at the clock, it’s now eight, where is Clara? I need to see her smile, it might calm me down.

Just at that moment the door swings open and Clara rushes in and goes straight to the bathroom and turns on the tub water. She comes back to me and with a quick motion, pulls out her needle and starts poking me.

“Ouch!” I yell.

She gives her famous smile and tells me to stand up. I hesitate; concerned I will just collapse onto the floor, but I see I can wiggle my toes, so I move my legs to the edge of the bed. I push myself off the bed. My feet land on the floor, but my legs don’t catch me right away and give out for a second. I grab onto the bed and pull myself up again. Clara says “Good,” and follows me to the bathroom. Slowly, but I make it there, my legs getting stronger with each step.

Clara seems a bit frazzled as she helps me undress and get into the tub. The tub isn’t even half full yet, so I feel a little awkward sitting in it. Clara closes the bathroom door and turns the sink on as well. I start to feel nervous. She come to the tub and starts to say, “You and the boy are escaping tonight.”

She stops like she heard something. She cracks the door to peak out, when she doesn’t see anything she closes the door, and starts back saying, “It’s all set and planned. I have a friend who is going to help. He will set off the alarm and run, once the alarm goes off all cameras and staff will be on him, wait 10 seconds then go out the door. This is your chance to get the boy and go down the fire escape.” She says in such a matter of fact tone.

My mind tries to hold all the information in, because I know she won’t be able to repeat it, I nod and she goes on, “The boy is in room 212, not too far from your room. When you leave this room you go to your right, his room is on your left. You both need to go all the way down to the end of the hall and turn right again, at the very end there is a window, it’s unlocked, open it and go down the fire escape. Are you following?” she looks wide eyed now.

“Yes,” I say quickly. What is happening? What is going on? I want to demand an explanation but the urgency in her voice stops me, for it would be a waste of time.

She continues, “Once you are on the ground head towards the center of the fence, but stay in the shadows of the buildings. Once you get to the center stay by the wall. Watch the spot light. Once it moves past you move to the metal sign attached to the fence in front of you and lift it up, a whole has been cut. Be careful because the wire of the fence could cut you.” She sounded like a mother there. “Remember eyes shouldn’t be on you, so once you are out run like hell to the ditch.” That last statement she says with passion.

My eyes start to water, but I blink the tears away and I need to know, “Why are you doing this?”

She puts her hand under my chin and says with a gentle voice, kind of like how I remember my mother would do, and says “Your parents were good people, I’m stuck, but you don’t have to be. You and the boy are meant for greatness. You can save us all.” She gives me a smile and her eyes start to water, just like mine do, she gives me a kiss on my head and turns the water off.

“Clean up, you have a big night!” she says a little more loudly for others to hear.

She then goes into the room, so I lean over the tub to watch her. She lays out gray pants, a gray shirt with black and white patches around the bottom, some boots, and a dark gray jacket. She lifts up her shirt and detaches a belt from under her breast. On this belt there looks like two small metal canteens that are magnetically stuck to it, one on each side of the buckle. There is also a small zipper pocket that must contain something. She sees me look, so she unzips the packet and shows me what it contains. Food pills. From what I’ve heard, they are rare, and were even banished from our city years ago. I remember reading about them from a book I snuck out of the school. I was surprised to see a book like that even there; there it was sitting next to my second grade teacher’s bag. It contained a lot of ancient information about the world before the wars. The food pill was created to give soldiers in war instant food when in battle. All you have to do is heat up some stones or rocks and then place a pill on top, then poof! It automatically transforms into food. In order for this to work, though, you have to be able to start a fire, and from what I remember learning as a kid, it’s not that simple.

I focus my attention back on Clara; she then raises her hands to her hair and pulls out her jeweled pin. She detaches another pin from underneath it and lays it down onto the bed next to the shirt. My heart sinks, it is my mother’s jeweled pin.