Love was something the society didn't want, something they had taken away a long time ago. I remember the flames bursting inside of me as they dragged me from my family to the insane asylum. I didn't understand why, why they could do such a thing to me when I only had feelings for people, and cared about others.

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     Rick looks up and shrugs. "If you're asking about feelings," he says, "I wouldn't know."
Rick is probably the most annoying bunk mate in the world. "Besides," Rick says, "Feelings are complicated and you're only 13."
     I swing my feet over the side of the bunk bed and sigh. There has to be someone who knows. The huge, grey, metal gate in the front of the room swings open, and in walks Garret. "What's the matter?" Rick says. Garret has purplish-blue bags under his eyes, and he looks like he hadn't slept in weeks. Rick stands up and pulls on the tray of food that Garret was pushing. "Bad pay check this week?" I ask, knowing it probably was, as usual. Rick continues to pull on the cart. It was a game they play, battling for the food by pulling it away from one another, although Garret works at the asylum and can get all the food he wants.
     Garret looks at me and shakes his head. "The master killed another one," he says, and we all go into a silent shock. It's so dead silent that the nothingness seems to bounce off the walls and hit us in the face. "Who was it?" I ask, breaking the silence. "It was that shy man, the one who made everyone those odd bracelets," Garret says. "Ty," Rick and I both say at once. He was greatly known for making weird things, like bracelets as Garret suggested. It was weird for a man I guess, and although he had a broad figure, many at the asylum thought of him as feminine, gay.                        
     A sharp voice calls out from the hallways, past the metal gate. Garret shrugs. He hands Rick and I each a steel bowl full of soup. They claim the steel bowls are just to save money, because they're unbreakable. We all know the real reason is because if they were glass, we could kill each other with the cold, sharp, shards. Some people at the asylum are actually crazy and will kill to escape. I look down into my soup. Great, chicken noodle soup leftovers. Again. I flop back down on the stiff mattress and try to remember the last time I saw real glass.

     I wake up to the ear-piercing sound of a whistle blasted in my face. Turning my head to the side, I wince at the sight of a perfectly shaved tan man in a track suit. "Good morning," he says automatically. I sit up in my bunk bed, almost hitting my head on the ceiling. "Please be careful while sitting upwards," the tan man says. I nod as I hear groans coming from below me. Rick is awake. "Hey Prince," He shouts up at me. "You awake?"
Still expressionless, the guy in the track suit bends down to talk to Rick, who's now sitting up on his uncomfortable mattress scratching his head in a morning wonder. "Please," the tan man says, "Call Princeton here by his full name." Now, his eyes wide open from the unexpected visitor, Rick nods. He knows, we all know, if he we talk back or make any smart remark, there will be consequences. The guy hands me a daily schedule. I pretend to actually look over the creamy colored paper, but the truth is, they waste their time printing out a new copy for everyone in the asylum every day. Everyone has the same stupid schedule memorized.
     I carefully climb out of bed, knowing that the perfect man's eyes are still on me. "So," I say politely, "what brings you here to cell 355?"
The man gives his answer in a short, clear response. Any imperfections or emotions are against the law, and that's why I'm here. All because I broke the stupid law. Everyone is supposed to be perfect here, and if not you are put into a selected insane asylum to be what they call, "mentally repaired."
"I am not sure if you remember, Princeton, but I complete small checkups with each cell every year. If you do recall, there are 365 cells at this insane asylum, and every day I visit a single one of those cells. If I am correct," he continues, "you have been here for about a year, starting on the first day of January. That means that you have been here 355 days." I nod, my head still dizzy from processing all of that. I nearly jump out of my skin when Garret enters with the morning meal, slowing his pace as he realizes the presence of the man in the track suit. "Good morning sir," Garret says awkwardly between side-glances with Rick and I. Carefully, he picks up a heavy steel plate with two red pills balancing in the center. "Your morning meal has arrived," Garret says, trying not to make any clumsy actions.We get served pills for breakfast, and actual food for luch and dinner. "I should get going," the perfect man says. "I will see you next year," he adds, with a final nod. He pulls open the gate, and then he's gone. I see Rick and Garret's shoulders relax, but my mind is wandered off to another thought, the thought of still being here next year. The man had basically just said "we keep people locked in these cells forever," right to my face. It might as well be forever for me, because I don't think I can wait another year to see my family.

     On Monday morning, the guards at the front of the building line up all 730 prisoners. "There has been a weapon found in the building," a guard says, trying to keep a straight, calm, tone. A wave of excitement and confusion builds over the crowd. Rick nudges me and points to the perfect man, standing in the corner of the yard. There is silence once again as one of the guards, dressed in a navy suit, puts his hand up as to signal for everyone to be quiet. Rick nudges me again. I look at him, and through clenched teeth I say, "do you really think this is a good time?"
He shakes his head violently, and points again, quickly. This time I see it. Simply an imperfection.

     I almost laugh. Between the perfect man and the trimmed, green grass, I spy the gate. No one else seems to notice, but the gate is wide open. I squint my eyes and strain my neck in that direction. All I see is green, tall green grass and wild forests with overgrown vines and untrimmed trees. Thats not the home I remember. Rick and I look at each other in confusion. As I remember, the leaves on all the trees were always trimmed into neat circles or triangles, an illusion of perfection that almost seems to dance in the back of my eyes. Now, they were overgrown and bushy.
     "Do you think we can escape?" Rick asks. I look at him like he's gone mad.
"Seriously?" I ask, feeling like the track suit guy is watching me. "Come on prince!" Rick whispers. He points to his bare feet, which he is now straining. Rick flexes his foot so hard, so that it practically grows a size smaller. I grin, looking at how big the shackles are compared to his feet. Rick easily slips one out, and we try not to make it obvious that we're excited. Quickly, I glance at the guard, who is still talking to all of the lined up men. The shackles are on every ones feet, so that if one person escapes, well, they can't. I look down at Ricks feet. He has both out, and now stands on top of the shackles.
     As soon as I get out of my shackles, I can't move because my feet hurt so much from straining.
My heart beats; and Rick looks eager to go. We check to see who is standing by the gate, and I practically go into shock when I see that the perfect man has moved. I look around for him, and see that he is now at the other end of the yard, watching the people on that side. Rick and I giggle, although I'm to old to giggle.  This day is just too perfect to be true.
"On three we make a go," Rick whispers. No one has noticed the gate yet.
"One..." Rick says, impatiently.
"Two..." I say.
"Three," we both nearly shout.
   
     Heads shoot our way, and before I know it I'm running, with this blast of energy bursting inside me like a weed planted deeply into the ground that refuses to leave. I hear shouts behind me, but that also seems to be behind the noise of my heart beating rapidly. The gate is a few yards ahead, and Rick is sprinting into the forest, touching everything with his hands spread out like a soaring eagle. As I speed past the cold gate, I feel a sharp pain in the back of my foot. It makes and earsplitting sound, and immediately I know it's one of the guards swinging at me with a wooden bat. I ignore the pain, and keep running, speeding up as I think of my family. I did it. I reached the gate.
     I slam it behind me, knowing that it automatically locks. It would take several minutes for the guards to get that open. Behind me I hear cheers coming from the prisoners, and In front of me I see freedom.