Gabriel's Journal - Twitter 'Verse

[thewatchmaker]

For the first time in days I felt safe. Safe, warm and full of food that didn’t come on a tray in a soup kitchen or jail, mom made me a sandwich and stuffed me full of cookies. They were cinnamon and honey. Wish they were chocolate, but that’s ok. She said they were my favorite kind. I don’t remember that, but I don’t remember much.

Doing the dishes, putting them away, with Mom felt so normal, and it’s been at least 4 days since I felt normal. She was like a lioness protecting her cub when she came to get me out of jail. I told her I didn’t mean to hurt that man in the alley, just like I told the police, but Mom believes me. She knows I wouldn’t hurt someone. She knows that she raised me better than that. God would punish me if I caused another person pain.

I’m not sorry the detective who was questioning me died of a heart attack. He was trying to make me confess to hurting the man on purpose, and not defending myself. I wanted his heart to stop, for him to choke to death, but it’s not like I can make someone’s heart stop working. That would be silly.

Curling up in my real bed felt so good too, surrounded by all of my things. Everything I touched was mine. The memories that filled my starving mind were mine too, filling the gaps and reminding me who Gabriel Gray is. I don’t know what happened to me, and I don’t know if I ever will. I could hear Mom outside the door, see the shadow of her feet under it, I watched that square of light until I fell asleep.

Nightmares came at me in waves. There were people trying to hurt me. There was so much blood, lightning and so much death. I was locked up in a room made of cement, and they were experimenting on me. A man with horned ring glasses was screaming at me through the window, telling me I was insane. Another man was carving up a rabbit and trying to kill me. I woke up in tears, unable to breathe and I had to open the window to let in fresh air.

When I woke up this morning my room was so cold, and I was sleeping in the corner in the blanket my mom knitted me for my birthday when I was in high school. I could hear mom in the kitchen through the wall, they aren’t very thick in our apartment, making me breakfast. My stomach growled loud enough to make me laugh.

I hope this isn’t another dream or memory, and I’m still in jail.