The Confused Prisoner

19 Sep

By Ellen Rogers
5th Grade

People’s angry cries bounce around in my head. As my feet hit the ground I begin to feel tired. Where am I? I try to remember my name but can’t. I trip and fall, skinning my knee badly. Blood gushes from the wound. I stumble to my feet and keep on running. “Stop her!” Someone in the angry mob shouts. Why is everyone after me? I can’t remember anything from any point in my life. Every time I try to remember there is a searing pain in the back of my head and my brain tingles, like I’ve just eaten a spoonful of wasabi. I look behind me. Two men lead the crowd. Shiny badges are pinned to their chests. I know who they are. Policemen. I know what they do, but I don’t know how I know this. I run faster, scared. Desperate thoughts flash though my mind. Help! I have to have a mom and a dad out there somewhere. This is just a dream. They can’t arrest me! I’m only…There it is again. The searing pain in the back of my head. How old am I? Suddenly I stumble. My head hits the ground. My vision is blurry. Then the world shatters into nothingness.

I wake up lying on a cot. Water drips somewhere nearby with the steady beat of a metronome. I don’t want to look. The policemen caught me. I just know it. I remember the angry mob chasing me. Why me? Had I stolen something. Or worse? I shiver and open my eyes. I am in a small room. Three walls are made of metal and one of steel bars. A toilet sits against one wall.I know I am in jail, but how I know is a mystery. I let out a sigh and sit down on the cot. A couple of hours pass, but I’m not sure how many. I wish there were a clock in here. I stand up suddenly. I hear the sound of footsteps and the jingling of keys. A tall man stops by my cell and inserts a key into the lock on my door. “Come with me,” he says. I follow him.

The man leads me though twelve passages. I try to remember which turns we take in case I see an exit. Zero, nada, zip. Not even windows. Finally we reach a metal door, which the man opens for me. I wander in, trying to act calm. In the room sits a desk and two chairs, one of which is occupied by a squat man. “Sit down,” he says. The man’s voice is deep and rough, but somehow I feel as if all my worries are melting away. But that’s probably because there is a window RIGHT BEHIND HIM. Problem solved. I pull a chair out and sit down. “I am Chief Rogers,” the squat man says. “I am just going to ask you a few questions,” I lean back in the chair, waiting for the first question. Chief Rogers pulls out a notepad and a pencil.

“What is your name?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I reply.

The chief looks baffled. “How do you not know your own name?”

“I lost my memory.”

The chief scratches his head. “Before or after you came here?”

“Before. The last thing I can remember is being chased by that angry mob,” I say.

The chief looks shocked. “How old are you?” he asks.

I shrug.

“Well, how old do you think you are?” What does this man not understand about I lost my memory?! Chief Rogers looks at me closely. “You look too young to have commit such a crime. You will be staying with us for the night. We’ll run some DNA tests and see if we can trace you from there. You are free to go.”

I stand up and head for the door. The tall man that led me here is waiting. He shows me back to my cell. Before I sit down on the cot I click off the light and soon fall asleep.

I sit up slowly. I am not even sure that it is morning. I yawn. I lay back down and shut my eyes. I stay like this for almost two hours before a man comes to my cell. I recognize him from last night. I follow him and he leads me to the Chief’s office. I sit down on one of the chairs. “The Chief will be here shortly,” the man says and closes the door.

Five minutes later Chief Rogers comes in. “We ran the DNA tests. I have successfully found out who you are.”

I hold my breath as he passes me a folder. I look at the first page. My mom’s name is Carol and my father’s name is Tad. I am 13 years old and, most importantly, my name is Sky. As I read this, I feel parts of my memory coming back. I shiver. “So did I commit the crime? What was the crime anyway?” I ask.

“Someone stole the Rosetta Stone.”

“Why would someone do that?”

The Chief scratches his head. “Recognition probably. That’s why most criminals steal things. But let’s get back to the point. It seems as though someone framed you. Last night I found a hair on my desk. Two actually. One was yours. One was of a man named Sam Trucker. I think he gave you some sort of drink made of… something that makes you lose your memory. I think as you see and hear more of your past you will start to regain your memory.” The Chief pauses to take a deep breath. “I am sending you home for that very reason. If you regain your memory tell me what you saw so we can track the man down.”

And with that I follow him out the door so I can go home. I guess I don’t need the window in his office to escape.


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