Shianne Liang “Four Blank Walls”

FOUR BLANK WALLS ____________________________________________________________ by Shianne Liang, Grade 8

I think I just murdered my mother. They calmly carry me out against my will as if it’s their daily habit. They’ve become accustomed. I don’t put up a fight. I let them drag me out, my soul left behind in the process. I’ve lost the desire to fight back. I’m outside now, shivering relentlessly as the winter frost bites into my skin. They tell me I’m free from myself now. Lies. Liars. I couldn’t be farther from free. There will never be another day where I’m not haunted by the act I committed. I dread waking up another day to the four blank walls that surround me. I’ve been in confinement for what feels like decades, removed from society. I heard stories about being a menace to society, but I really can’t recall what I did to make them believe that. Nevertheless, it’s been ingrained in my brain permanently, and I can’t deny nor claim my past actions. I’ve forgotten them all. It’s a shame, all these blank walls, and not a single memory to paint onto them. You may think one might go crazy trapped in here. Well, you’re not wrong. Today, I hesitate to wake up. I don’t open my eyes. I want to remain a corpse, lifeless and still. Distant from the horrors of the day. Suddenly, a warm voice envelops me. “Good morning, son.” Silence follows, but I feel an itching sensation louder than a bomb. “What the hell?” I think to myself in denial. I keep my eyes closed. This can’t be true. I haven’t heard a human voice in ages. No, I have to reject this. I can’t let myself out, can’t be free. I’m a hazard to civilization. I must heed the last words I heard before I was placed in isolation.

“You are dangerous. You must not exit these boundaries, for you will put the human race in jeopardy. Freedom is not a choice for you. It never will be.” Regret soaks up my body. How I long for human compassion. My body aches to run into the tender embrace of my mother. To feel the heat of her exhales as she coos me to sleep. To cry out desperately and feel the tears trace down my barren face as I do so. I peel my eyelids open. I don’t recognize this woman. This is not my mother. “Come on, son, let’s go. We’re going outside.” The desperate need to escape these white borders overwhelms me. On a whim, I rush out with this unknown woman, not considering what lies beyond. I must escape. The day is beautiful. Blue skies, with only a few clouds accompanying the sun, which is shining brightly, glistening on my face. I feel the warm gusts of air brushing through my hair. The four walls that have restrained me for years expand and flood with colour. My ears tingle, hearing the gentle chirps of birds fluttering effortlessly. I take in the newfound scenery in its entirety, running along the soft grass and breathing in the fresh air, scented of lilacs. I’m free. My soul has found its way back to me. It feels as though that missing part within me has returned. My humanity has been regifted. I forget all that’s haunted me in that box that has jailed me for years. In this state, I realize that the woman who led me out of my misery has vanished. I don’t panic. The feeling of freedom triumphs, blocking out any worry that may appear. I lie

FOUR BLANK WALLS ____________________________________________________________ by Shianne Liang, Grade 8

down, keeping my eyes open, wishing this moment will never leave. I’m convinced that this picture will remain for as long as I live. Forever at peace. Islands away from the confinement that’s preyed upon me for the last 4,194 days. A distant yet soft voice whispers into my ear, “Freedom awaits,” and at last, fatigue takes over. I give in, slowly closing my eyes, not even trying to block them from doing so. I know my place in society, I should return.

I hear a blaring voice. “Patient #42, please come get your pills.” I walk up to get the tiny capsules that treat my hallucinations and return back to the empty confinement of my four, soulless walls. Freedom is a dream that will not be achieved.

artwork by Yolanda Jin, Grade 11