I Didn't Do It by Brithney Malchan

Lilly walked slowly to the window, her bony hands resting against the cold wintry glass. She saw nothing outside; it was new moon and the streetlights were out. It was cold, her thin frame shaking violently. She waltzed out of the door and began to skip merrily down the building stairs. ‘Ashes, ashes, we all fall down,’ Lilly hummed, over and over again. “Hello Sherman,” Lilly said mockingly as she reached the lobby. Sherman stayed still; he continued to swipe the dull razor blade against his limp wrist. The blade wouldn’t cut through his skin and Sherman’s face twisted in distaste. Sherman the building manager wore his tattered blue uniform; the collar stained with blood, the blue velvet decorated with holes, the cuffs burned to yellow scratchy pieces of fabric. The air around her was stenched with the smell of decaying flesh. “Hmph,” Lilly exclaimed, unsatisfied with no response from Sherman. Out of the apartment, the wind howled with delight. A mocking ominous scream flew past her, the wind knocking her about. Lilly walked past the large rusted dumpsters, stopping to stare at the rats nibbling on crumbs. Was that blood on their whiskers? She approached the rats in delight and quickly grabbed one up. “Hello,” Lilly whispered. She stroked its head gently, continuing her tune of, ‘Ashes, ashes, we all fall down,’ she began to squeeze the rat, it’s eyes bulging out of its head. The rat froze, it’s heart stopped; “Oh, no fun,” Lilly whined. Dropping the rat aside, she continued to walk; the coldness wrapped its arms around her frail body, the darkness sucked at her soul. Upon entering the park, her body was illuminated by fluorescent lamps. The wind picked up and blew leaves towards her; the leaves seemed to cut her on her arms, her face, everywhere. The blood seemed to pour out from every incision made, flowing to the stone cold ground. Lilly stared at her blood in a daze, smiling maniacally, “ Well isn’t that pretty” Lilly purred.

Lilly began hearing voices around her, people conversing merrily, children laughing, birds tweeting; their eyes filled with nothing; not the slightest bit of emotion. She was haunted by cold and silence; going to the park was her escape. How could she be one of them? What would make her happy? Did anyone know what she did? Stumbling dumbfounded, Lilly banged her knee against a park bench. Blood began to ooze from the very spot she was hit, the old women sitting not too far from her stopped feeding the squirrels and began to laugh. The men, embracing their wives stopped looking at the starry night sky and began to laugh. The kids stopped their repeated chant of Ring around the rosy and stared with smiles stretching from cheek to cheek. She was succumbed to a world of laughter. People laughing with each other, people laughing at her, confounding her to scraps left on the dinner plate. “We know what you did!” yelled an old woman in her raspy voice. They began to approach her, the old women, the men, the children and the mothers. Lilly’s young face grew pale, her ice blue eyes staring blankly at the surrounding faces, her golden hair shimmering under the brightness of the park lamp. A mocking whisper escaped her mouth, “I didn’t do it.” They started to laugh louder and louder this time throwing punches, slapping her childish face. Lilly sat there absorbing the hits and kicks, the pain livening her. Her body was black and blue, her face swollen, her mind empty. Lilly looked up to see that there was no one in the park but her. Lilly started to laugh, a low giggle at first. She started to laugh louder and louder until the laughter filled the air, between the trees and under the park benches.


The park was no more; Lilly limped back to the building lobby with a big smile plastered on her face.

Outside the boundaries of her room, finger paintings hung on the bleach white walls; a sort of therapy for the patients confined within. “Doctor!” a nurse screamed. Dr. Pitts emerged with a color filled face.
“What?” he exclaimed.
“She’s unstable again.”
“For gods sake, it’s been twelve weeks.”
Dr. Pitts rushed to the room labeled door five, Willsberg Asylum. He looked in the small window to see her body black and blue, her face swollen. She was laughing loudly, tears streaming down her face.
“SHERMAN, I’M TALKING TO YOU” she screamed from inside the room. She was facing the wall; speaking to someone that wasn’t there.
“She needs more medication, she’s out of control,” the doctor said with sympathy leaking through his pores. Inside the room, Lilly stood, her arms trembling; she looked up and twisted her head, smiling at the nurses who looked inside. The nurses rushed in and saw Lilly’s fingers stained with blood; her self inflicted wounds pulsating.
“SHERMAN DOESN’T WANT YOU IN HERE,” She screamed and began to swing her arms violently; she laughed louder and louder, her voice beginning to crack. Dr. Pitts rushed in and stealthily injected her with haloperidol. The room went dark and was filled with an odd coldness that shook her frail body. Lilly lay on her cot smiling, the coldness enveloping her into a void of eternal happiness.
au revoir; Till we meet again