White Walls

• Elyse Landsberry, Grade 9, Ravenswood School For Girls
• Short Story
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'Beyond Words 2015' competition

White Walls

I’m surrounded by white. These white walls. These white people dressed in white coats. Blinding. Cold. White. They hide their cracks. Cracks in their faces. Why can’t you see it James? Can’t you see their cracked faces?
How oddly blank it all becomes. So idle. Canvas-like. A piece of parchment. Dog eared pages, weary with age. Tears splitting their perfect emptiness.
But red ink. That spilt across his crisp white page. His page numbers covered in red. I remember you Sam. Sam what have you done.
Do you remember the farm we visited, James? You would run around trying to chase the chickens. The cats. The cows. Anything that moved. And I would take you out for white chocolate ice cream. White…
And- and…
There are walls. White walls with white jackets that cover my arms. Why can’t I move? Why can’t I move?!
James, you remember your father, Sam. He was a good man. Such a good man. He and I would take long winding walks in the sand. Warm, white sand…
White. White mirrors. Cracked glass.
I can’t remember. I can’t remember.
James, my little boy, I remember. Your blue eyes. Your blonde hair. And Him.
He- Sam why would you. How could you. Our little boy
You would understand James. Your father was a monster. With red ink scattered across your paper white face. Your cracked face.
*
Sam can you go grab some ice-cream with James?
Take my car. Yes James, I know you like the white car.
Okay I’ll see you soon.
*
Officer, where’s my son?
A car crash… an accident.
It wasn’t just an accident. Death can’t be an accident.
An accident is spilling coffee or dropping a glass… cracked glass.
My son’s life was taken. It was no accident.
You took him didn’t you Sam. No! You can’t make excuses, you don’t get to make excuses.
Stab. Slice. Slick. Slump.
I’m here now because-
He had to die. I don’t regret it. I stopped him.
Sam was a murderer. A husk of a man. A ravaged man. A cracked…
Cracks in the window.
Cracks and red ink…
*
Sam I’m going to go grab some ice-cream with James.
I’ll take my car. Yes James, I know you like the white car.
Okay I’ll see you soon.
*
Oh my god.
Sam it was you! You killed him! It wasn’t me…. It couldn’t be me.
I…I…
Remember.
Click. Snap. Scream. Smash. Crack.
The silhouette of a tree in the mirrors.
And the thousands of reflections of his face splashed with ink.
His cracked face.
I was in the car. Me. Not Sam.
The white car. White walls.

I’m surrounded by red.