I have begun to hate that look on your face. The look that says, “This is a complete and total waste of my time.” I have begun to hate those smooth white walls as well, the ones that scream insanity. I blame you for those walls, although I know you have no say in the color. You’re head doctor hear, but you don’t get to choose to change those white walls. I hate that look.

I wonder, for just a second, if you ever give her that look. No. No, you wouldn’t, would you. She’s always been a good girl. She probably participates.

“Well,” You say in that bored voice. “Where shall we begin today, hmm?” You flip open that strangely thick manila folder and flip through it. I don’t talk to you, or anyone really, so I can’t imagine what that folder contains. Police reports? Testimonies from class mates, co-workers, neighbors? I want to ask you, just to satisfy my curiosity, you see, but that would mean talking to you. And I can’t do that, of course.

“Shall we start with your mother?” I flinch, but you go on as if you didn’t notice. I know you do. You always notice. “She died when you were twelve, yes?” I don’t answer, so you do it for me. Like always.

I actually tire of this game we play. I can see on your face that you do too. Maybe, that’s why you lean forward and speak out of context. “Look, James.” You say to me, your voice tired. “Evelynn is leaving in one week. She finished her part, did what she needed to. I know both of you are perfectly fine citizens, and I know that the only reason you were brought here was because Adam and Sarah were worried. They still are. You can leave too, James, if only you talk to me.”

This is news to me. Evelynn leaving, I mean. I knew she’d do her participating, but I always assumed we’d leave together. Nonsense, I know. How can we leave together if I don’t talk?

“Adam and Sarah want you to come home, James. They don’t blame you. They aren’t mad at you. They miss you. They say you won’t even talk to them when the come to visit. They’re scared for you.”

Of course I don’t talk! I want to shout. They wouldn’t understand, and, anyway, what could I say?

I take a deep breath and look into your eyes. They are such a deep blue that it startles me. You sigh.

“Alright, James.” You say, leaning back in your padded chair. Everything here is padded. “Have it your way. But you have three months of participating in this program before you can leave. Think about it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You dismiss me.

I leave the white room, only to enter a white hallway. My body guards- two male nurses in white scrubs- appear instantly out of nowhere to escort me to my room. Not that I need escorts. But, I suppose all inmates get escorted around.

My cell is small, and not far from your office. Recently I got a room-mate. He calls himself Gustave and, like most people here, he’s not really crazy. He’s actually very smart. He killed his neighbors, the whole family, and pleaded out on insanity. They could neither prove nor disprove it, so he got sent here. For whatever reason, the warden figured we would get along so I got stuck with Gustave.

I want out of here. Medowbrook is probably the nicest prison ever, but that’s only because it’s also a mental ward. A looney bin. It’s meant for people who know that they’ve done wrong, but are either too mentally or emotionally unstable to survive in real prison.

It’s nice. But I want out. I want to go home to my family, to my sisters and brother. To my dog and cat. I want to go back to work. I want my life back. I guess that means I actually have to talk to you.

“Hey, Jimmy.” Gustave greets me happily. “How’d therapy go?”

I shrug. “Evelynn’s leaving.” I say.

He frowns. “Lucky bitch. “ He says it appreciatively. “Of course, it’s gonna be hard for her out there. You know,” he noddes towards the tiny barred window, “out there in the real world. She can’t get a real job. And if she ever gets in trouble again . . . “ He shakes his head. “Nah. Better to stay in here man. Still.” He glances at me. “Lucky bitch.”

I don’t say anything. I don’t really know what to say. Part of me agrees with Gustave. But the other part . . . I want to go home.

“Hey,” He says, sounding surprised. “You never did tell me what you did to get in here.”

I force a laugh. “I’ll tell doctor Wexler before I tell you.”

He shrugs.

I think back to Adam and Sarah. It’s been weeks since they saw me. I wonder if they visit her. It hurts to think about. My brother’s and sister’s support has always meant so much to me. It hurts to think that they may have given up on me.

I make my decision. I’ve tried breaking out and running home- all that gets you is solitary confinement. I need to get out the right way. That means, I need to talk to you. I need to tell you everything.