I awoke to one of the hospital rooms. The white lights blinding my eyes. I sat up, confused. ‘How had I gotten here?’ The last thing I had remembered was being out in the field. I looked around for a nurse but found no one. I pushed the covers off and sat at the edge of the bed. I tried to stand up but fell face first. I gathered myself up and tried again but once more I fell. I looked back at my legs and screamed at the sight before me.

“My leg! Where is my leg?” I yelled out. The sight was horrific, my left leg was gone. All that was left in its place was an ugly stump where my knee should have been. Fear rose in me at the sight. My leg was gone, and I was destroyed. How was I going to make my family proud now? A nurse came running by and tried helping me up. I pushed her back. “What’d you do to me?” I screeched at her.

“Sir, calm down...”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down, I am missing my leg!” I interrupted her. “What have you done to me?” I screeched once more. My heart started to pound against my ribcage, panic rising in me.

“I need help over here!” the nurse yelled out.

I started to panic; my leg was gone. My body was destroyed and for what? I would never be able to serve my country again.  A group of nurses held me down. “What’d you do to me?” I screamed out before feeling a slight prick and becoming sleepy. Everything became calm as I closed my eyes and fell into the darkness.

When I woke up, I expected it to be a dream. Being at the nurse’s station without my left leg. It had to have been a dream; I needed it to be, but it wasn’t. I threw the covers off only to still see the ugly flesh stump that replaced my leg. It still felt like my leg was there, but it was gone.

A nurse came by, “How are you feeling Mr. Capenter?” she asked me. I felt anger at her, though she probably wasn’t the one that mutilated my body. My rage was relentless.

“Where is my leg?” I asked harshness in my words.

“They had to cut it off to save you. It’ll be an adjustment when we get you a new one. Now I’m going to take your temperature.”

“A new one?” I questioned angerly, “I don’t want a new one, I want my leg back the way it was.” I demanded.

She looked up from the clipboard she held in her hand, a little taken aback. “I’m sorry but your leg is gone. There is nothing I can do about it.”

“Why’d you have to take it anyway? It was perfectly fine!”

“When you came in you were injured severely,” An old looking man wearing a white coat said as he walked in. “You had been shot in the leg. We had to perform surgery. We did everything we could to save your leg, but the damage was extensive. The blood supply to the leg was compromised and there was severe tissue damage. The infection set in quickly, despite our efforts to control it we couldn’t save the limb. The infection was spreading, and if we hadn’t amputated it could have spread to your blood stream, and you could have lost your life. We had to act fast. Saving your life was the priority. Now, how are you feeling?”

“Like I want to punch something! I never got hit, I don’t get hit. I’m the best out there, there is no way that I got hurt.” I harshly said trying to understand how everything happened. The last thing I remembered was being on the field talking to one of the soldiers. I think he was a Messager sent to me from one of my generals.  He was telling me about something important, but I couldn’t remember what.

“Even the best soldiers get hurt. Now if you don’t mind letting my nurse take care of you,” the man said. He turned to the woman and whispered something that I couldn’t make out. “Don’t worry Mrs. Hart is the best nurse we have.” He left leaving me and the nurse. She set the clip board down and grabbed the thermometer.

“I’m going to take your temperature now,” she said. “You know, I know what it’s like to lose apart of yourself.” Her voice was soft and kind sounding.

“Sure, you do. I highly doubt that you’ve lost your leg.” I harshly said rage hiding behind my words. Silence filled the room.

Her face dropped. “Your new leg will be here a couple hours; the doctor is going to want you to test it out.” She said monotoned.

“I don’t want a new leg!” I demanded. She looked away awkwardly before closing the door and turning towards me.

“Look, I get it. You want your leg back, you're angry, and you have the right to be, but I am just a nurse. I didn't cause you to lose your leg. I didn’t cut it off or shoot it. I am just here to help make sure that you are ok and help you adjust to your prosthetic leg. I get that you need somewhere to put all your anger and grief, but I am not that person. So, make my job easier and suck it up.” she whispered yelled.

“I’m...” I stuttered a little shocked by her outburst, “I’m sorry.”

“Good, now I have other patients to see. I’ll be back when your leg comes in. If you need anything ring that bell over there.”

The hours I waited were the slowest in my life. Everything seemed to be going at a snail's pace. The world was bleak and dark through those hours. I tried sleeping to pass the time but every time I closed my eyes a sharp pain would hit my missing leg. I kept checking if my leg was missing or if it was all a horrible nightmare. Seeing that ugly stump that replaced my leg shattered any hope I had of it being a dream. My world was crumbling around me the more I checked. The weird thing was it still felt like my leg was there. I could feel my toes move and my knee bend, but all that was there was that ugly corpse of my once living leg.

“Mr. Capenter, your prosthetic leg is in. You ready to try it?” Mrs. Hart asked, opening the door.

“Do I really have a choice?” I asked my tone still harsh.

“Not really. The doctor wants you to at least try it on, so we can see if it needs adjusting.” She walked in holding a box I could only assume was my new leg. She set the box down next to one of the tables. She sat at the edge of my bed and softly spoke, “Look I know that this isn’t ideal, and I know what you're going through is hard, but you have to try. I promise that this will help things feel normal. Once you get back into the pattern of things everything will fall back into place.”

“No, it won’t. I can never do the one thing I was good at anymore. I can never make my family proud. I’m literally incomplete.” I pushed myself to the edge of the bed. My one foot touching the cold tile floor.

“That’s what the prosthetic is for, to make you a complete person. I know things won’t be perfect immediately, but it will get better I promise.”

“And how would you know?” My eyes started to burn with tears. I felt completely and utterly alone. My world was a shadow amongst everyone else's. I was nothing but a failure now.

Mrs. Hart paused, her face softening as she looked at me. For a moment it looked like she understood what I was going through. We both sat in the silence of understanding.

“I know what it’s like to be in your shoes, Mr. Carpenter. To lose a part of yourself and feel hopeless. Like the world is overshadowed by the lost,” She finally said. “But things don’t stay that way, they don’t stay lost forever. It might take time, a lot of time, but you’ll find a way forward. It’s hard, trust me I know, but you’re still here. That has to mean something. Don’t let this one little thing stop you. Not while you still have breath in your body.”

I couldn’t meet her eyes, the tears threatening to spill over, but I held them back. I was still shaking with the weight of it all, trying to process that the man I was, the man I had been, was gone. She didn’t wait for me to respond though. She simply opened the box, revealing the prosthetic, a sleek piece of equipment, practical but cold. She put it beside me gently, as though it was something precious.

“Look,” she said softly. “This is just the first step. We’ll take one step at a time together. I’m here with you. You’re not alone on this journey.”

I swallowed hard, feeling the suffocating weight of everything I had lost, but as I glanced at the prosthetic, something in me shifted, just the slightest bit. Maybe my life wasn’t over. A small bit of hope grew in me. I took a breath.

“Alright,” I muttered, barely above a whisper. “One step at a time.”

Mrs. Hart smiled softly. As she helped me try on the leg, I felt a sense of hope fall over me. I wasn’t whole yet, but maybe, just maybe, I could be.

The kitchen is small,

Cold,

Evil.

The back door lets the kitchen freeze.

Tile floors hold the anger of the past,

Old arguments long forgotten,

Spills from overfilled cups,

Tiny glass shards left from a broken face.

Cabinets join in with their hidden secrets,

An overfill of medicine,

Too many blue boxes of pasta,

Spices overflow onto the counter and on top of the fridge.

The sink fills with undone dishes left from the week’s meals.

And what looks like a mess soon transforms into a studio.

Where artists can paint, write, sing, or dance.

Where the chef can cook,

As they try not to burn the food.

Soon the once cold floor lights up to the sound of music.

The smell of brownies baking fills the air,

As the kitchen becomes vibrant.

And as quickly as the kitchen comes alive it can become,

Overshadowed.

Blurred eyes,

Muffled yelling,

The smell of anger and rage lingers in the air.

The kitchen becomes a court room,

With only one person on trial.

Beat by the words of one voice.

The kitchen becomes the electric chair.

Once a homey room that brought joy,

Now ruined by dim lights,

And loud brothers.

Oh, how boring can a class get?

I hate being bored.

I watch as the clock ticks by,

The seconds getting slower,

And slower,

And slower.

My eyes flutter open and shut,

The blanket of tiredness wrapping around me.

I hate being tired.

The teacher told us we’d be working on an essay today.

Oh, how joyous I thought it would be.

Until my mind went blank,

The wall of ideas shutting down.

I hate having writer's block,

The infinite blank page staring back at me,

Waiting for the right words to appear.

I hate not knowing what to write.

I hate staring at this blank page.

I hate a lot of things,

And right know I hate this,

The class,

The boredom,

The endless suffering of not being able to think straight.

I hate the sound of the kids around me,

Laughing,

Talking,

Working.

I hate just sitting here,

Though I also hate standing.

I hate the electric hum coming from my computer charger,

And the noise of the fan.

I hate the smell of sweaty teenagers,

The sight of people walking by.

But most of all,

I hate that the blank page stares back at me,

A silent judge of my failure.

I looked around trying to figure out where I was. The place was familiar but yet strange.

I was standing in a circle like structure, if you could even call it a structure. There where walls that seemed to just go up continually. The floor was made of grass and looked more like a field then a floor, wildflowers spread throughout the uneven blends.

I looked around some more to find a small low to floor table. It was clearly set up for tea, with a blue teapot and mismatched teacups. I looked around some more and found a piano. The black and white keys calling my name. I ran my fingers along the keys. The distant memory of taking a lesson played in my mind. Next to the piano stood a violin and bow. I picked it up and gently started playing. The sweet melody echoed against the walls. I carefully set it back down.

I looked some more only to find a desk with a pen and paper. I picked up the paper and read what was written on it. "The vines of a crying child. Chapter 1, That night." I shoved the paper in my pocket, saving it for later.

I looked around at the seemling empty space. That's when I noticed the hallways. Long hallways leading to nothingness. I started walking down one. Doors covered either side, each one a different color and decoration. I stopped at one that was light pink. It had little hearts all over it and string lights hanging above it. I opened the door only to find the precious memory of falling in love for the first time behind it. That's when I realized the doors held my memories. Each one the color of the emotion and the decorations the importance.

I decided to go back to the circle area and try a new hallway. I felt myself being drawn into one the seemed dark and evil. I walked down it, the bright and colorful doors slowly fading into darker ones. Till there was no longer light or color, everything was pitch black. I kept walking even though it was dark. Finally I saw a light, I followed it as it got brighter. When I reached what seemed to be the end I found myself back at the circle, back where I started.

The woods have always been my home, and no one can take me from them, or at least that was what I thought until I met a man who tried to convince me to leave, and when I said no, he became mad, and forced me out. Now the woods won't let me back in, they've abandoned me to the world of the unknown, even though they know I will die out here all alone.

Rage, I had written about it a lot, but I never truly understood how powerful it could be. How much of a motivator it would be to do something I never thought I would do. I never could have imaged that it would give me the strength to kill my brother.

We were in the kitchen, he was looking around for something to eat and I was doing the same. School had just gotten out so, it was only me and him home. That's when he started his little speal about how horrible I am, and all over the fact that I took the last bag of popcorn.

"This is why no one likes you, you fat pig!" He screeched. I ignored him or at least was pretending like it. His words had always cut deep, but if I showed or said that to him he would eat me alive like a tiger. "God, you're so annoying. I don't see what your boyfriend sees in you. You're just a gold digger who is in a loveless relationship. Your such a puppet I bet you don't even really love him." That was my breaking point.

I had already heard this crap but, for some reason today it broke me. "Why can't you just let me be happy for once in my sad and pathetic life?" I asked. I could feel the tears starting to build up.

"Why can't you just go away?!" He started to yell. He reminded me so much of our father. He had his voice, his look, his anger.

He continued to yell such horrid things and the more he spoke the more my thoughts went dark. All I could think about was stabbing him and kicking him and taking a gun and shooting him. Then I did. I was so filled with an almighty rage that I took a knife and pointed it at him. "Ha, you think you're going to stab me, you won't you pussy," he mocked.

I started laughing at the thought of backing down and him getting his way, again. Not this time. "I hate you! You've done nothing but be an asshole to me since forever, and I'm done with your bullshit!" I screamed at him anger riding with my words. That's when it happened, I stabbed him in his stomach. He looked down at his belly and seemed shocked, and afraid.

"I'm...." He started choking on his own blood. I watched as he fell to his knees. Then he fell onto his face. His chest stopped moving, and his face became dull. I looked down at him. He looked so pitiful. He looked agonizing.

I sat on the floor of that kitchen for a while before I realized what I had done. I was in so much shock that I couldn't even process it. "What have I done?" I whimpered. I wanted to cry, or better yet join him. I couldn't not yet. I decided he deserved it for ever bad thing he has done or said.

"I have to hid the body," I told myself. I called up a friend who I knew wouldn't ask questions. I put him into a bag and got into my friend's car.

"So, where to?" They asked.

"The woods" I replied looking back at the bag.

When we reached the woods I was ready. I knew how I wanted to say goodbye. I brought his body to an off trail that often times had coyotes. They would eat the body and it would look like that's how he died, hopefully. That's if anyone finds him. I dropped the bag down and moved his body to sit up at a tree. I bent down on one knee and said, "I'm sorry it had to turn out this way. Please forgive me. I never wanted to hurt you, but you made it so hard to control myself. Goodbye brother, I'll see you in the next life." I walked back to my friend's car and went home.

They assumed him missing and then dead when he didn't show up after a month. My mom changed, became a shell of herself. I feel bad for her. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if she found out the truth. Would she hate me? I got put back into therapy. My mother noticed a change in my personality. I've become darker, more distance, but that's because of what I've done. She thinks it's because I'm grieving. I still see my brother, he shows up in my dreams. Sometimes he just shows up, whispering something under his breath. I think it's my conciseness trying to make me feel guilty for what I did to him.

I am guilty but it was his fault, too. He should have never been the way our father was. He should have changed, but he didn't so, he got stabbed.

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November 30th, 2020 Monday. Before you ask my therapist told me to write this. Something about it being a good way to share emotions. Besides the point. My name is Olswald J. Davison. But everyone calls me Oli. I'm 14 and a freshman at Brown Burrow High. I don't care for school. It's too boring and easy. My school counselor says that's no reason to fail. By why do the work if it doesn't challenge you. At least that's what Johnny tells me. He's my manager, and kind of my only friend. I work at Maryland's Weapons Museum. We're like one big family there. I know what your thinking "A WEAPONS Museum? Your 14 how are you handling weapons?!" First I work as a tour guide. Second I don't touch the weapons. I'm not even aloud to clean them. Which is probaly a good thing. Since you know, I'm a minor. Which is fine with me besides I've got to make a living somehow. You're probaly wondering why I don't just let my parents deal with that. Well, one my dad's dead, and just a few months ago me and my mom got in a car accident. Mom thought she saw someone in the middle of the road and ran us off into a ditch where she hit her head against the dashboard. Now she is in a coma. Doctors don't know if she'll make it out of the coma. I hope so. I miss her, a lot.

December 1st, 2020 Tuesday. My therapist told my that avoiding things aren't how you deal with things. But when your life is just bad, wouldn't you want to stay away from the worst bad things. I mean truly, if life is horriable why go and make it worse. That's like burning your hand and being like "Welp time to chop it off." Besides it's better I avoid things rather than do what I want. I have a horriable curiosity. You know the saying "Curiosity killed the cat." If I was able to avoid things then life would be easier. But sadly my curiosity is the death of me.

December 2nd, 2020 Wednesday. Something weird happened today. A man came over to my house. He said that he was pest control and that one of my neighbors had a pest problem and he wanted to make sure it hadn't gone into the other houses. He said it was free so I let him in. I know that's a stupid reason but I hate bugs so it's fair. Anyway he was very strange. Muttering about finding some book, looking like he was about to scream. Worst of all he gave serial killer vibes. Don't worry I made sure to follow him, and we don't have a bug problem. He was just weird and gave me the creeps.

December 3rd, 2020 Thursday. My therapist says it's rude to call people weird for doing their job. She hold me I was being paranoid also but that doesn't matter. What matters is I never have to see her again. That's right, I quite therapy. It was getting a little expensive. I think I made a good choice too. Cause my last day was also her last day. Which is weird cause she never told me. Who knows, probaly just a coincidence.

December 4th, 2020 Friday. It snowed today, like really snowed. I had to call out of work it snowed so hard. I couldn't even open my door. Thankfully the power didn't go out, that would have sucked. It's weird though it feels like everyday since the accident the weather has gotten worse, harsh even. It's like my mom said "You never want to make the sky mad." Seems like someone didn't listen.

December 5th, 2020 Saturday. The snow has gotten worse. When I turned on the news they said we were going through a blizzard. The first in years. My mom once told me that the last on happened the day I was born. I called the hospital to check in. They say she is doing the same as always and not to worry because they have a backup generator. Hopefully the storm will pass soon.

December 8th, 2020 Tuesday. I haven't wrote in a few day. The power went out on the 6th and only a couple of hours ago turned back on. Sadly, that means all of my freezer and refrigerator food have gone bad. Which sucks. I called the hospital to make sure that everything was ok over there. They said that the power never went out over there. Thankfully.

December 9th, 2020 Wednesday. The sun is finally out. The news says that the snow should melt soon. I hope so. I need to work so I can make back the money I lost on groceries . A whole 250 down the drain. Which is sad, cause I had leftovers from grandma in there. I wish I had taken her offer. She offered to let me stay with her till my mom gets out of the hospital. I should have took it instead of thinking I could be an adult. I'm just a child. What was I thinking?

January 8th, 2021 Friday. On the 11th the snow finally, fully, melted. I've worked almost four weeks since then. I tried and make back some of the money. My first check back ended up going to a plumber to fix the kitchen sink. It froze, sadly. Now, thankfully I've made enough for groceries and bills. All that's left is to buy and emergency kit. Just in case this happens again. Hopefully it doesn't.

January 9th, 2021 Saturday. I've realized I haven't been that truthful about things. So, I'm gonna clear somethings up. First, yes I live alone even though I'm only 14. As far as the state knows I live with my grandma. Which is why she pays the house bills. As for me I pay the hospitals bills and anything else I need. Second, I'm taking a break from school. Besides who really needs school. School is just a boring mess of kids wanting to leave. So, I did, for now at least.

January 21st, 2021 Thursday. Today was stressful. I had a doctors appointment. My grandma was out of town so I had to go by myself. I got a lot of judgy looks from people. I know it's just a check up but it still makes me anxious.

January 22nd, 2021 Friday. Today at school I found out I got the highest final test score for math in my grade. They congratulated me and I got to keep the test grade paper. I hung it up on the wall next to the picture of mom. I miss her.

January 30th, 2021 Saturday. I got in trouble today. I came into work late. Normally Johnny is alright with it, that's cause he knows I can't drive and have to take the bus. But sadly he wasn't there today, Carly was. She is the other manger and she is strict. Everytime I try to explain to her that the bus was late and there was nothing I could do she writes it off as excuses. Which is stupid, I can't control the bus. I got two more years before I can drive, lady. At least Johnny will be back this week. He went to see his parent's farm for the holidays.

It all started on one sunny day. It was mid June. It was a swelting hot day, and everyone was heading for the pools. It was nothing but a normal day for James. He was working hard at the white house trying to get the president a coffee. He was the errand boy, his whole job was basically running around getting food or drinks, sometimes running the president's suits to get dry cleaned. Today however he was to get a french vanilla coffee from the President's favorite cafe, that was on the other side of town. James didn't care for his job much. Anyone who knew him would always talk about how much he complained. His job wasn't really hard, it was just boring. The pay wasn't great either. He only got a little more than minimal wage. Not only that but he had to sit and wait for hours on end. A never ending wait as he called it. But that day he was tired of waiting. So, when the first drink was slide unto the counter with the name James he took it. He knew he hadn't ordered yet, but a part of him couldn't wait. To make things worst no one stopped him. Once, he drove back the president was too busy to even notice that it wasn't a french vanilla coffee. Instead he only commented that it was cold. A few mintue later and James started is waiting. Waiting for the president to get done with his speech. After only being there for a few mintue a loud noise startled everyone. James got up and looked around. Then he saw people start to rush out of the theater. Once the crowd had moved he got a chance to ask one of the guards what happened.

"The president collapsed on stage. We're bringing to the hospital now. Why don't you head home early?" The guard said. James wasn't sure why but he felt as though it was his fault. Deep down he felt he did something wrong. He ignored it though and left for home.

The next day he got the call, the president had died. "What?! How?!" he said as he held the phone close to his ear.

"Poison we think. We're waiting for the blood results to come back. Your his errand boy, what did he have you bring him?"

"Well, for breakfast he had his normal coffee and that was all he had. As far as I know of course."

James waited all day to learn what had happened. Once he did, it wasn't the way he wanted. He got a knock on his door and opened it to the police. There to arrest him. What the had found was poison in his system, and as for where they found it. The coffee cup that James had given to him. James was taken away for murder. Even though he didn't kill the president. It was a case of wrong time wrong place.