Just get the idea down. Those were the exact words that flowed from his impertinent mouth. Right before I strangled him to death. Right before I watched the blood flow gently from the corner of that mouth. Right before his body collapsed to the floor with purple abrasions around his veined neck and the glass shards protruding from his balding scalp. It was the last time he ever pushed me. I hated him and I hated that building. Everybody was forcing me to do things. Swallow pills, paint leaves in the garden a blanched white, keep a daily journal, and worst of all, share a room with an incomprehensible roommate; a roommate who snored constantly. It didn’t take me long until I officially cracked. I felt the need to escape physically, not mentally as they were demanding. I believe that is their ultimate goal. Right above shoving pills down a person’s throat at least three times a day. They obviously feel the need to prove their superiority to everyone around and their mental stability.
I decided to make my break during English class. It took place every Thursday afternoon after lunch. I was sitting patiently at my desk staring promptly at the blank sheet of paper lying directly in front of me, if not a little to the left. I was waiting for the old man to arrive at my desk after storming the aisles in a manner derived from a military academy or something. He eventually arrived at my work station where his march came to a halt and his head took a turn to my clean sheet of paper. He swivelled on his heels and asked me politely why I had not written anything for my daily reflection. I did not answer. He repeated the question a little more bluntly. I turned my head in the opposite direction and watched as a yellow butterfly playfully flew through the midsummer air as it tried to fight the opposing wind currents in a little game of struggle. The old man began mumbling something; it may have been on the premise of my ineptitude of writing. I turned to him and his voice became clearer. His final words were, “Just get the idea down.” I stood up from my desk and wrapped my hands around his neck. His eyes bulged from his head and tiny blood vessels appeared among the white space. He gurgled a little and stumbled over Joseph’s desk. Joseph managed to escape from the confines of his wooded area and seemed to understand my intent. He grabbed a glass vase from an ornamental table and swung his hands in an arc through the English teacher’s head. The glass made contact with his skin and shattered immediately. His body slumped in my hands. I let go of his body and avoided his downfall to the linoleum. I made a dash for the door. Fortunately, the guards weren’t able to respond to my cat-like abilities as I pounced through their attempted grabs. I sprinted through the mopped halls and out into the courtyard. The fence was no match for me and I bounded it with ease.
I made it to this forest where I stumbled across you and your charismatic presence. I hope you liked my story Mr. Frog. I sure don’t want to go back there. I was hoping I could stay here with you. We’ll get along just fine.