“I’m innocent I tell you. I didn't do it. I’m not like the others here. Why won’t you believe me?” All they do is look at me and laugh, it’s like I’m an animal to them. “Yeah, I’m sure you are” the first guard says in a joking manner. “Like I haven’t heard that one before,” he whispers to the second. It’s just like Shawshank; we’re all innocent in here. They both leave and shut the door; the sound of the lock turning follows them.

I’m new to this place and they already treat me like I’m a lunatic. My name is Thomas Crow and I was put in here because of a murder I didn’t commit. They say I’m guilty but mentally insane. I know I didn't do it. They classified me as “unfit for society,” what a load of s***. Instead of throwing me in jail, they decided to put me in loony bin for the criminally insane. I’ll be here for a while until my family can get a new lawyer for an appeal. Like they say, “It’s easy to get in, but hard to get out.”

It’s dinnertime now, and I wonder what exquisite cuisine they have in store. The chef dumps garbage onto my tray. Disgusting. I’m like a savage in here, no better then the rest of them. I wade through the tables trying to find somewhere to sit. I don't want to sit next to any of these crazies. There’s one guy smiling at me with an open seat next to him. Half his teeth are gone and the rest are rotten and yellow. His hair is gray and disheveled with wrinkles and spots all over his skin. He’s probably a meth addict; I think I’ll find somewhere else to sit. I find an empty corner with no one there; I guess I’m eating alone tonight.

I wake up the next day to the sound of someone banging on my door. It’s the doctor. I need to get on his good side because he has the authority to let me out. Pleading my innocence like I did with the guards won't get me out of here any sooner. “Mr. Crow, I am Dr. Jones, and I will be taking care of you during your stay.” I extend my arm in an attempt to shake his hand, but two guards quickly pull out their stun guns and aim it at me with lightening speed. I retract my hand. They think I’m a lunatic. I’m not like the others I tell myself. I’m sane. “Ok Mr. Crow I am prescribing some medications for you. You will start every morning with 100mg of chlorpromazine, and 50mg of aripiprazole and we’ll see how you respond to the treatment. Have a nice day.”

It’s been a couple months now since I got here and I still sit alone every meal. It’s not easy having anyone to talk to. It’s lunchtime now and this guy keeps throwing something at me. I’m not quite sure what it is but it feels similar to a pebble, possibly some food. I try to ignore it but he won’t stop. I do my best to control my temper. I’ve always had a bit of an anger problem. I feel each little chunk of food hit my back. It drives me up the wall. I can’t take it anymore, I get up and I scream, “Stop throwing your food at me!” He tries to act all confused and says, “What are you talking about? I wasn’t throwing anything at you, you delusional freak!” That mad me angry, real angry. I grab him by the collar, throw him down, and begin unloading on him. I start beating the life out of him until the guards pull me away. “He provoked me!” I scream as I try to wrestle free. “I’m the sane one! Take him away not me!” Then it all goes dark.

I slowly wake up to an unfamiliar setting. Everything around me is pitch black. I feel like I’m lying on the ground but I’m not sure. My head is killing me. I try to put my hand on my forehead but I can’t for some reason. My arm is stuck. I try to jerk my arm with all my force but it won’t move. I’m in a straightjacket! No! This can’t be! Straightjackets are for the crazy people, and I’m not crazy! The other guy started it not me! I’m innocent. Why don’t they realize that? Suddenly a bright light fills the room and burns my eyes. I tuck into a corner to try to shield myself. “Oh Mr. Crow, what are we going to do with you?” It sounds like the doctor’s voice. “Let’s keep him in here for a few more days and we might have to change his medications” he says to an assistant. They all exit and shut the door behind them. Once again, I am alone.

It’s my first meal since I got out of solitary. Being in there changes you. It toys with your mind. I get my food and go straight for my usual corner all by myself. As I eat my meal a stranger takes the seat right across from me. I’ve never seen him before; I look at him with a bewildered expression. “I know you’re innocent,” he says. “I saw him throwing little pebbles at you during lunch. I would’ve done the same.” I smile a little and say back to him, “Thank you. I thought I was starting to lose it in here but it’s comforting to know I have someone on my side.” “I’m Charles by the way” he says, “and you’re Thomas right?” As we talk I realize he doesn't seem like the other people in here. He has all of his teeth for one, and they’re white too! His short black hair is neatly combed. He seems like a very collected guy. I don’t see many people like him around here.

A couple weeks have gone by and Charles and I have become good friends. We’re always talking, eating, and hanging out together; it’s nice not being on my own. He keeps me in check. I have to go to a private meeting with Dr. Jones today. Charles walks with me to his office, and says he’ll stick around outside until I’m done. I smile and head in. “Who were you talking to?” Dr. Jones asks. “That’s Charles, I met him a while back and it’s nice having a friend here, you know?” “Hmm, that’s interesting. I would stop talking to him if I were you, just my personal advice. I’m going to change up your medication a little bit. Bumping you up to 150mg of chlorpromazine, 75mg of aripiprazole, and adding mellaril, 40mg. Just like before, every morning after you wake up, it’ll be on the table by your bed. Have a nice day, and remember what I said about your friend.”

“So how was it?” Charles asks. “It was ok. He changed my medications a little bit, nothing major” I say, careful not to mention anything that he said about Charles. “Thomas, I overheard what he said to you about me. You have to listen to me. I’ve seen people come through here that were just like you. Perfectly sane, but misjudged. They’re supposed to be here for a month, but then it turns to two, then a year, and now they spend most of their time in a straightjacket in solitary. This place is corrupt; you have to believe me. He’s trying to drug you and push you off the deep end so they have a reason to keep you here. Trust me on this; don’t take the medications. Spit it out. Throw it away. Don’t take it.”
I’m skeptical of Charles right now. Why should I trust him? Maybe the doctor is trying to help me. Charles seems so normal though, why shouldn't I believe him? All this time I’ve been here, I’ve never seen someone leave. Like I said when I first got here, it’s easy to get in, but hard to get out.

It’s the next morning and I face a difficult decision. The pills are on the counter and I am unsure what to do. Should I take them? It’s a tough choice. I decide not to. I toss them in the toilet, flush, and walk away with a brisk pace. I tell Charles we have to be careful now; I can’t risk Dr. Jones seeing us together. Whenever I see the doctor I always tell Charles to hide, and off he goes.

It’s been a while since I’ve stopped taking my medications. I feel like the drugs were closing my mind but now I feel much more open. I can think clearer, and really be aware of my actions. I think I might be able to get out of here soon. I don't care anymore that Dr. Jones does not want me to be friends with Charles. Instead of hiding him whenever Jones walks by, I just continue my conversation. We’re sitting at lunch now, just us two, having a normal discussion when I feel something hit my back. I’m sure it was nothing. Then I feel it again. I turn my head and see the same guy who threw the pebbles at me earlier. I ignore him. I feel another, and my anger is starting to show. “That bastard won’t leave you alone, will he?” whispers Charles. “What I would give to punch him in the face right now.” Once again I feel it on my back. It’s just a gentle touch but it drives me insane on the inside. “Hit him. He deserves it. If the guards try to take you away I’ll protect you. Just do it.” “No. I can’t. Not this time. I’ll ignore it.” Another pebble hits me, and it pushes me off the deep end. I grab my food tray, and turn to him. His back is towards me, acting as if he didn't do anything. I lift up the tray and in one motion I smash his head, rendering him unconscious. Boom. Blackness.

I wake up to multiple doctors standing over me as I once again am in a straightjacket. “Why did you do it? Why did you nearly kill him?” Jones asks. “He was aggravating me. He threw stones at me and wouldn't stop,” I exclaim. “No he wasn’t. I’ll show you the video from the security camera.” He plays back the tape and I focus on myself. Nothing was ever thrown at me. Not a single thing. No one even acknowledged that I was there. I would’ve paid more attention to it, but there was something else I could not wrap my head around. Where was Charles? He wasn't in the seat across from me like I remembered. “Where’s Charles? Where’d he go?” I ask. While shaking his head, Jones and his colleagues begin to exit the room. He says, “Charles doesn't exist, Thomas. He was never real,” and he shuts the door, expelling every last bit of light.

I guess we’re all crazy; some of us are just better at hiding it. As they say, one person’s craziness is another man’s reality and as I sat there, confined by the darkness, something strange happened to me. I let go, and lost myself in the darkness. Dark, silent, and complete, I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.