Confined

There was a time when I was not always so afraid.

For the first five years of my life, I actually loved everything around me, even the darker parts of the world. When I was that young, I knew not what fear was, nor its restraints, and the feel of freedom must have been amazing, but I can't remember it too clearly. All I know is that it once existed—along with a smile. And, even though there are lots of things that I have forgotten or can barely remember, there is one memory that I can recall like it happened just yesterday, one that I'll never forget—because it's the reason why I live like this now, under the spell of my own curse.

I was five and I wasn't aware that there was a word such as "pain." I didn't know what it meant and I had never experienced it for myself, so I didn't know that something could feel so terrible. I didn't know that beautiful things could turn around and bite you in such violent ways, but I learned quickly and in the worst way possible. After all, someone had once told me that a human being can never fully understand something until they feel and experience it for themselves. And I felt a lot that day when no one had cared enough to keep a close enough watch on me—Mom had been too busy at the moment.

I remember the way her eyes flickered around the room as she paced back and forth, the phone pressed tightly against her ear as she talked on and on. I had been at her side the whole time, tugging at her skirt, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Mommy! Mommy!" I had cried again and again, just wanting to get a little attention, but she refused to spare me a single glance.

And, when I finally grew frustrated with continuously trying to attain her acknowledgment, I turned toward the refrigerator with wide determined eyes, deciding to get what I wanted with my own two hands. At the very top of everything, I could see that big box which I knew was filled with tempting things like cookies and candy. And now, thinking back at the whole event, maybe it was because of my own greed that I ended up this way. Maybe if I had been a little more patient, then I would still have my hands.

I never acknowledged any danger in anything I was doing, even as my small fists grabbed at the ends of the counter and I began to pull myself up, struggling to climb upwards towards that box. I didn't tremble or shake or worry in the least about the obstacles that were in my way and I never thought once about the chances of something going wrong. In the mind of a five year old, there is nothing that can hurt them so, when I approached the stove on my hands and knees, my next obstacle to cross, I never would have imagined that Mom would have left it on.

I could still hear her voice echoing in the background, but she obviously didn't see me, otherwise she would have tried to stop me, right? If I had taken the chance to glance down and see those large red ringlets, then maybe I would have hesitated out of curiosity, but he eyes were only focused on that box, shimmering anxiously with a wide smile on my face. So, without a moment to lose, I put my hands forward to slide myself across and, the moment they came down on those ringlets, my smile was gone.

I can still remember the feeling that passed through my body from the very moment I felt that heat seep through my palms and run along my fingers. I remember the way a sudden jolt shot through every nerve in my body, how this terrible sound filled the air—which I later recognized to be the sound of my own voice, sounding stranger than I had ever heard it before. Mom jerked around, her eyes widening when she saw me, and the phone slipped through her fingers and collided with the floor as she raced toward me—a bit too late.

"Oh, my God—Jacob! What happened?!" her voice had shrieked as her arms wrapped around my waist and tried to pull me upwards.

I guess she had only been trying to help me like any mother would have but, because of her clumsy movements, when she tried to pull me away from the stove, she ended up dragging my bare legs across the rest of the hot ringlets, making my eyes water as I felt the heat spread there as well. I could feel it as it burned away my skin and I could only scream and cry as Mom freaked out suddenly and rushed with me towards the bathroom. She had the faucets turned with cold water pumping out in seconds and then she threw me in, not knowing what else to do to help me.

She mustn't have realized how much it hurt because, when she tried to press my wounds against the cold water and wrap a small rag around it, it didn't make the pain go away—it only made it worse. The places where I had touched the ringlets felt like they were on fire—even when they were under the cold water. And, even when they turned numb moments later, I could feel my blood pounding against the burns and, when I turned my hands over to inspect them, I was horrified when I saw the clumps of skin that had peeled off and the funny color that the remaining skin had inherited.

"Mommy! It hurts! It burns!"

"I know, Jacob, I know—I'll make it go away, I promise."

Mom was never one to keep her promises—even at the age of five, I knew that it was all a lie. I don't know what had happened after that. I remember being rushed to a hospital and overhearing the voices of doctors whispering reluctant words to my mother, who had barely managed to keep me after that, for I had nearly been taken away because of her ignorance and neglect. All I know is that, for the next ten years of my life, I would live with something new that I had learned that day. Through the burning, I had felt pain, and through the pain, I had felt fear for the first time in my life.

This fear, as a result, confined me forever from a world that I had once loved.

I could only remember that burning feeling and the way it had spread through my body, so I developed a fear for any sense of heat, no matter how small it happened to be. And, as though that wasn't enough, I discovered that this fear had created other fears as well. The one that affected me the most, the cruelest one of all, was the fear that I developed for the sun.

From the first moment that I had tried to walk outside and felt the light of the sun run across my skin, I had completely lost my mind. I didn't notice right away, but then the heat from the sun's rays spread across my skin, just as it had from the stove, and I was back in the refuge of the inside of my house before I could stop and think about what had just happened. But that was a long time ago—now I know what the sun feels like and I know to avoid it.

"Stop! Let me go!" came my voice from the back of my throat, choking on the very air that entered my lungs as I tried to defend myself, but there were too many of them.

Before I could do anything, they had tied one of my hands to the center bar of the merry-go-round and the darkness that clouded around the abandoned park began to cave in around me, but I knew that it wouldn't be dark for long—and that's what frightened me. My sleeves were long and stretched down past my fingers so that my hands were unseen and I tugged them down some more before I tried to dash away, just to be pulled back tightly by the rope around my wrist. Laughter echoed all around me and I began to shiver in tremble in anticipation as my eyes glanced out across the horizon where the beginning of the morning sun was slowly beginning to rise.

"What's the matter? Are you scared?" one of them mocked, shaking the edge of the device to make me jump.

"Vampires are scared of the sun, aren't they?" they mocked, laughing obnoxiously to each other like this sick little game of theirs was supposed to be fun.

As they shook me around in the prison that they had set for me, my mind couldn't help but be in a million places at once. Aside from being afraid, I was mentally tormented by the flashing images that I had seen throughout my life. After my accident, Mom had sympathized for me, but when I refused to take a step out of the house, I had no choice but to drop out of school all together, because she couldn't get me to go. As soon as the sun would touch my skin, I would remember that burning feeling from that day, the heat that had melted my skin, and I would throw fits and tantrums like a child, screaming and kicking.

She had gotten doctors and therapists to take a look at me, but all they could say was that my experience must have scarred me mentally and that they couldn't help me. All of those pitying eyes around me were enough to make me sick because everyone already knew that I would live with this curse, that this fear, this condition would never go away. And, because of that fear, I became a burden to everyone around me—especially Mom. It's like I was nothing but a mistake after that, and I could see that every time she glanced in my direction and her eyes went through me as if I didn't exist, as if she didn't want me to exist.

After all, a child that couldn't even leave the safety of his own room was a child that would never have a future.

I don't remember the last time that I had seen or felt the sun after that day. Maybe I had seen the ways of light across the grass when accidentally glancing out the window, but I would cover them with curtains and isolate myself in the cold darkness—it had to be cold, otherwise I would become frightened again. My skin had grown pale simply because it had forgotten what the sun had felt like, though my memory knew just fine, and I became sickly and unhealthy. I always wore pants that covered every inch of my legs and long sleeved shirts so that the scars from the burns were never seen and I spent ten years that way, locking myself away during the hours of the light.

However, when night time came, I was free to wander around to my heart's content. The moon became the prettiest thing I would ever get to see, mainly because it didn't burn me like the sun did. At least I can say that I didn't spend all of my life indoors, for I can vividly describe what the cool grass feels like beneath my hands as it's illuminated by the light of the moon—the only light that was safe.

"What's the matter? Aren't you having fun?" one voice sneered, too many grinning faces around me as I circled around, trying to find an open exit, but there was someone staring back at me within every direction that I leaned towards.

Even though I never went to school and I was scarcely seen, everyone knew who I was because of all the gossip that would spread around town—the gossip about the poor little "vampire" kid that was afraid to come out into the sunlight. I had heard the talk and the rumors and I had never minded too much, but then there were kids like these that took bullying to a whole new level. I had been picked on before by them, but they had never gone this far—never.

I don't know why they found it so entertaining to hurt me like this, especially after all I had already been through, but they had actually dragged me all the way out to the small neighborhood park and done this to me—just for a little bit of fun. And, here I was, hours later, frightened and shaking, still enduring their torment and games. I had thought that Mom would have noticed that I was missing by now, but no one was out looking for me, no one was coming to help me. Maybe Mom was finally glad to be rid of me, relieved that someone had taken the heavy burden off of her chest.

That burden was me, the kid who was too cowardly to face up to his fears, even for the remaining happiness of his family.

"Let me go! Let me go!" was all that I could cry again and again and again.

I didn't know what else to say other than that. I pulled and tugged at the bind that they had set me in, but my trembling hand was weak and could barely loosen it—even a little. And, when they saw me try, they pointed and laughed at me some more like I was some circus attraction.

"Do you need help with that?" one of them teased, tugging roughly on one edge of the rope, forcing it to pull me down onto my knees.

I was an easy victim, I'll admit, but I never thought that I would deserve this kind of treatment, even if I did happen to be some kind of burden. I had never gotten to have the childhood that normal kids woke up to every day and I never got to enjoy any kind of lasting happiness. I had never even done one thing to call my life worth while—not yet, anyway. There was still much that wanted to accomplish, even from the four walls that I dwelled in, but as I felt my heart race faster, I somehow knew that I would never get to finish what I had planned to start.

In the distance, the sun's light was already slowly beginning to cast its golden colors across trees and buildings, and it was coming closer, closing in on me like a suffocating shadow. I bit onto my lip and let out a small whimper, not caring how shameful I appeared to everyone around me. I tried to dash forward, but I felt the device jerk at a sharp angle from beneath me, making me stumble and fall. And, for the first few times that I attempted to free myself, they would do that to me again and again, laughing as they did so, to the point where I was constantly flat against the cold metal beneath me.

The sun's rays were beginning to touch the start of the street, brushing across the swing-set, stretching its fingers out for me, like this was supposed to happen.

"Please, stop!" I screamed, angrily, desperately, somehow about to cry if I was pushed too far. "This isn't funny anymore, so cut it out!"

It had never been funny in the first place, but they were still smiling and laughing and tossing me about like I was something fun to play with. I tugged my sleeves down below the tips of my fingers again, growing nervous, but this time, one of them noticed this and leapt forward to grab onto my sleeve.

"No! Stop!" I growled, trying to thrash away from him, but he gripped my wrist hard until it hurt.

"What are you hiding, huh?" he asked curiously, tilting his head at an angle so that he could see clearly as he began to pull my sleeves back. "Let's get a good look at this."

I tried to scream, to protest, to pull away, because I knew what they would think when they saw it, but I couldn't stop him from ripping up my sleeves and letting them all lean in to see the hideous scars that had left deep ringlets around my palms, disfiguring my skin and staining it with that dark, ugly color. I felt their curious eyes gazing at it before the repulsion and alarm came—but I had already expected it.

"Oh—that's disgusting! Check this out!" he said as they all gathered around the circus attraction. "I bet he did this to himself, too. Man, he really is some kind of freak!"

Everyone around him snickered in response after discovering a secret that only Mom had known about. I felt my limbs go numb, my eyes turn hollow, and my face turn pale—if it could get any paler in the first place. This had to be the worst feeling in the world—being discovered and ridiculed for something that you couldn't help. They were looking at the real me and couldn't stand the sight of it. Already, I felt my skin start to turn warm from the fast pace of my heartbeat and the sweat that began to spread across my flesh in small beads. And, along with the heat, came a small piece of insanity that had been released from the only instincts that I had learned to develop.

I learned to hide and to cope—to stay away for as long as I can and then, when I had been cornered, I would try to claw my way out through the only means necessary.

I shoved them away from me with one hand and jumped to my feet, trying to get past them, because the sun was still coming and I was running out of time, but one of them roughly pushed me down onto my back in the center of the merry-go-round.

"Don't vampires die in the sunlight?" one of them asked mockingly. "I guess we'll see, won't we?"

Before I knew what was happening, my whole world was spinning, but when I managed to catch my hold on reality, I realized that the only thing spinning was the device that I was one. Four sets of hands just continued to spin me around and around until my vision began to go blurry and the surroundings rushed by so quickly that all I could see was a bunch of colors running past. I tried to block it all out and think of happy things so that I wouldn't be frightened, like my family and friends, but then I realized that my only family had shut me out.

And, when I thought some more, I remembered that I had never had the chance to make a single friend, though I had always hoped to.

The pressure of gravity kept me down against the metal from spinning around too fast and my heart began to race in my chest harder, faster, as did the blood in my veins. I could see the blurred images of grinning faces passing by me quickly and their laughter rushed all around me as they had their fun. The colors were getting brighter and I knew that this could only mean that the sun was almost here, just a little ways off now. And, when I realized this, I felt my lungs tightening and releasing quickly as I began to hyper ventilate, losing control of myself.

My fear of the heat of the sun was what aided me for a small while afterward.

I was able to slide up along the bar and claw at the rope with my free hand, somehow managing to loosen the bind a little as adrenaline fueled my veins. My eyes were wide as I thrashed the rope away from me, suddenly losing my balance from all of the spinning going on around me, and I stumbled backwards, with nothing to catch or support me. Time seemed to slow down a little just to emphasize the moment my feet lost ground and I began to fall backwards. For one passing second, just one, my body was dangling in midair in a certain position that allowed me to gaze straight up into the sky, where the darkness was beginning to seep away and the blue and orange were coming through.

It was the first time that I had seen it with my own two eyes—and it didn't look half-bad—but its image quickly faded from sight as gravity tossed me to the ground like a fallen meteor.

However, instead of feeling the mercy of the ground, I felt the edge of the metal clip me in the back and the force of the fall, along with the spinning sensation around me, caused my back to arch upwards too quickly and there was a loud number of cracks that ran down my spine and filled my ears as my eyes widened. My head fell back and dangled off the side of the merry-go-round, feeling the brush of the grass as I continued to spin around, the metal practically stabbing me in the neck.

I'm not sure what I must have looked like or even what had happened exactly, but I knew what it had felt like—and I began to burn.

Everything was quiet after that, no laughter, no voices—only the pattern of screeches that vibrated into my ears as the merry-go-round slowly began to come to a stop. I couldn't see it very clearly, mainly because I couldn't move my neck or my head, but there were four pairs of wide eyes around me, staring down at my helpless remains with horrified glances. I would have asked for help, for a little bit of mercy, but I had no voice, and soon I found that I had nothing else either. One by one, each of them fled from what they had done, leaving me all alone to myself in a numb, throbbing state.

My eyes felt hollow and dark and there was something wet and hot filling me up on the inside, like filling up a water balloon. It was running to my head even and I couldn't breath, couldn't move a muscle. Something was wrong—I didn't feel that same life that I had felt before, even though it was hardly a life at all. My thoughts were fuzzy and my body refused to listen to me. It didn't feel that bad at first—and I didn't mind it that much either because it felt more like I was sleeping—but then something touched my skin that made the voice in my head shriek and cry.

Ever so slowly, I felt the sun finally touch me, eventually bathing every last inch of me in its light, and I imagined my heart to burst out of my chest, but I didn't even feel a heart beat in the first place. Its warmth began to spread across my flesh and absorb into my skin and I couldn't even move to shield myself or run for shade. My biggest fear was staring me in the face and I couldn't run from it now—I had broken too many bones to move.

Ironically, my world turned black at the mercy of the fear that I had never managed to overcome.

What was even more ironic than that was that it wasn't the sun that had killed me—it was my fear of the sun that had.