Quitting

I wanted to quit. All I’ve ever wanted to do was quit. I’ve spent my entire life a corporate ward in some boarding school, and after sixteen years of it I’d had enough. Never have I had control over my own life or destiny, and every decision, big and small, others made for me. From when I woke up to when I ate to what I learned and read all the way up to my future professions and employers, all chosen for me by some company board. I didn’t want to play that game anymore, so I decided I’d leave.

It didn’t take the school long to figure out what I was attempting. Small changes in your daily routine add up, and I underestimated their attentiveness. Regardless, the authorities didn’t come and knock down my door and drag me away for “reeducation”, rather they took a more subtle route, one through my friends. Through the years I lived in my school I made friends, and we all suffered through the same trials together; it’s the only way you can maintain your sanity in tough situations. When I planned my escape I didn’t think about them, selfishly of the opinion they’d slow me down. That was my first mistake, I didn’t think.

The funny thing is I usually think too much. I spend a lot of time watching people, studying the intricacies of human nature as they unfold. All of my friends I find interesting, and even the school administrators have their human side. Those in charge wear clean suits and act the parts handed to them by those even further up the chain. They’ve all read the script and expect you to know it by heart as well, and when everyone plays the game the show goes as planned. But if you haven’t read the script or don’t like your role, then problems arise.

There was one person in particular the administration targeted, a girl named Cassie. Cassie and I grew up together, and we helped each other deal with otherwise unbearable tribulations. We were close, but like any relationship we disagreed on some issues. I prodded her with the idea of escape, but she never took to the idea and I feared telling her of my plans might lead to their inevitable failure. I didn’t trust her, but I suppose I trusted the school to only come after me if I tried to escape. That was my second mistake.

All of the friends I’ve met interest me, but I never felt close to anyone else. At the end of the day no one could be trusted to protect my interests but myself, so I was alone. The first person I ever got to know, the one who didn’t put on some act in front of me was Cassie. I first met her in class when I was eight, but she sat alone in the back of the room as far from the other kids as she could manage.

We all had our quirks, but hers handicapped her in a most terrible fashion. Through some force unknown to any of us around her Cassie shared with us her deepest emotions. She didn’t mean to though; it was less voluntary and more being forced out into public naked. Cassie couldn’t hide her feelings, yet she never betrayed them through words or action. Instead we just knew how she felt. To defend herself she projected negative feelings, maybe consciously or maybe not, I don’t know, regardless she was unpleasant to be near.

I wasn’t fazed by Cassie’s demeanor, and I was curious as to who she really was. Up till that point I’d been a loner, but this girl drew me in. I worked up the gumption to talk to her one day in as nice and nonthreatening manner as I could muster, and the unpleasantness melted away. She didn’t trust me for awhile, but she mellowed, as happy to have someone close as I was. We grew up together, and I never wanted to give her up to anyone or anything. I valued her friendship more than my own life, but I when time came to choose between her and escape, I at first chose escape. Trust is still a problem I had with others, and it bit me in the ass in the end. Cassie gained more control over her condition, but it plagues her to this day and hurt her worse back as kids.

Everyone attending the school came to the place with defects of some kind or other, though they never told me from what I suffered. Hell, I don’t know how I got put in this school in the first place. All I knew was I needed to remain in the school compound for my and the general good. Cassie’s ailment stood out clearly though, as she had a number of mental breakdowns related to a condition I to this day don’t fully understand. Medicine kept Cassie healthy and functioning, and it only took a day or two of missed doses for her to take a turn for the worse, a turn that derailed my escape if only for a moment. But when really important decisions need to be made a moment makes all the difference.

I walked down one of the classroom halls of our school one evening, and as I passed through heard someone crying in one of the rooms. I wasn’t supposed to be in that hall, but a small deviation from my normal path from the classrooms to the dorms proved necessary as I needed to “requisition” some supplies from the janitorial closet nearby. I hesitated and with the cries sounding familiar my curiosity got the better of me, so I peered into the window of the offending classroom. Inside Cassie sat on the floor ranting incoherently, struggling against some invisible force assaulting her. I wondered how she got left behind here and why no authority had come to collect her. No one was anywhere to be seen, so I decided to help her. That was my third mistake, deviating from the plan, but I don’t regret this mistake. I shouldn’t regret it.

It was a trap. As soon as I entered the room, the door closed and locked behind me. I turned in a panic and ripped at the handle, but to no avail. Gripping my book bag filled with items I shouldn’t have thoughts on how I’d be locked away with no opportunity to see friends, to see Cassie ran through my mind. The classroom felt haunted, devoid of the usual life present and served to deepen my fear. Being in a strange hall after hours isn’t a punishable offense, but being in possession of contraband is. The whole affair ended quietly with the door unlatching and swinging open to reveal two medical staff. They picked Cassie up, hauling her out of the room while two men in navy blue suits entered and stood before me.

One of them adjusted his tie, an alternating red and black stripe affair, and said, “Shall we?”

Too afraid to do anything else, I followed them out of the room. I could have fought or I could have run, but I submitted. I felt tied down by the circumstance and my emotions, and the only thing my mind would let me do is follow. I’ve hated myself every living moment for that weakness, and it still eats at me. My head mired in a blur some rough men searched me and took the supplies I’d lifted from the closet and following a short medical exam found myself sitting in a foreign room. The walls leaked some liquid I hoped was water running down the bare concrete. The floor tiles cracked under my weight and a single light almost illuminated my chair and the steel table in front of me.

I waited some time before anyone else entered the room. The two men from before came and took seats across from me. Nothing was said, and I continued to wait. What felt like hours passed as I grew tired and thirsty, but they did nothing. They sat me out; it was left for me to take the initiative, so once I couldn’t bear the deafening silence weighing me down I spoke.

My first words shook the room but quickly settled, and I asked, “Is Cassie alright.”

The answer came slowly from one of the men, I couldn’t see who telling me she’s fine. The other pushed the conversation in another direction, asking me if I had anything to confess and that if I did, I might get away with a slap on the wrist. What do you say in that situation, what do you do when asked such a question?

Me, I just asked, “Is Cassie alright.”

One of the men sighed and told me to wait a bit. I’d had enough waiting for one lifetime, but he stood and excused himself from the room for a moment. Upon returning he informed me that I could see her, for five minutes. Stressing the word five, I perked up at the man’s statement, and shot out of my seat. He ushered me down a dreary hall and into a similar room to the one I had just left only instead of a table and some chairs doctor’s equipment furnished the area, and I imagine the room looked the part of a first aid depot buried in some military bunker.

The lighting improved from the previous room, and Cassie sat huddled in the corner frozen. Her eyes glazed over the two doctors who removed her from the classroom before muttered to each other about their inability to illicit a response from the girl. I looked into her eyes and knew without any words what she wanted to say. I understood perfectly how she felt and what she wanted despite her catatonic state, she wanted the two men to leave her alone.

I walked up to one of the doctors and kindly asked them both to leave. The doctor brushed me off and told me I should spend my time with Cassie wisely. I felt the pangs of her anger and frustration with the two intermixed with her will to push them out of there. I noticed her eyes roll onto me, and in our shared desperation grabbed the doctor’s arm, telling them both to get out. They both stared at me as if I had three heads yet refused to budge an inch, so I clamped down harder on the man’s arm. His face twisted with pain and surprise as I crushed the bone, letting go only when he finally howled.

I made myself understood with one final command, “Get out! Leave now!”

The two evacuated, one nursing a broken arm. Cassie leaned forward and stared right at me. A wave overcame me, of what I don’t know but suddenly I found myself drowning. The air in the room left with the doctors, leaving me to gasp for every ounce of breath. Panicked, I stumbled and grabbed Cassie, but with that action my breath returned to me. I released her and while she doesn’t speak she tells me something I can’t describe properly with words but best translates as, “It won’t happen again.”

Then and there I noticed something creeping up on me, or it already had crept up on me. Whatever it was it felt its way through the nooks and crannies of my mind, consuming the pain, sorrow, and fear I felt along with the recent joy, relief, and pity from reuniting with Cassie. It devoured every feeling, feasting on the cocktail of emotions swirling around in my head. I’m left tired and drained when I realize the source of the hunger, the one eating away at my emotions is Cassie. Too distracted by the churning in my head I failed to notice Cassie holding me, and we had both fallen to the floor.

Cassie communicated to me in that state of delirium, but I didn’t completely understand what she related to me. She said either stop doing this, or she said give up. Maybe she said both, it’s hard for me to untangle my thoughts at the time and process what went happened. I do remember my pride swelling up at her suggestion though, but she took that pride from me and shoved it back down my throat. I choked up and gave in with reluctance to Cassie, but it was hard not to do so choking to death on my own pride. I got up, swallowed the lump and staggered out of the room back into the hands of my chaperon the administrator.

Back with the two men I found myself hungrier, thirstier, and more tired than before. Much of my will stripped from me during the short time I spent with Cassie, I wished I could just go back to my dorm. This time the two men did not wait, instead they listed the crimes for which I stood accused and the punishments attached. If I turned myself in I could look forward to six months of kitchen duty, a far lighter sentence than the alternative, spending the next two years in isolation quarters.

I had but one request, “Help Cassie.”

The two men gave me their words she’d be taken care of, and that the problem stemmed from her refusal to take her medication for the past few days. I wondered if they lied to me or not, but it didn’t matter anymore. I emptied my bag onto the table and as contraband spilled all over the place the two men smiled at congratulated me for doing the right thing. So I did quit in the end, I quit my dream of escape and chose to live on in a place I hated, but with the people I couldn’t be without, with Cassie.