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Description
Word got out about the Master's death. The police had instantly linked it to Mekeke. They weren't sure what he had done, but the Master was dead and from something that might have been a heart attack.
Mekeke couldn't understand why he was being blamed for this, but he was. He had hurt his Master in some way and that had led to his death. He would be lying if he said he was upset about his Master's unfortunate end. He didn't think he was responsible though. Or was he?
They had a trial, but no matter how many ways Mekeke phrased, "I'm innocent", he was still found guilty. He wasn't going to go to prison. He would kill himself if they told him he was going to prison.
The judge looked down at him. "You have been declared mentally unstable by several doctors and officials. You will be admitted to the mental institution."
It sounded far more appropriate. He had gone a little crazy. But he didn't want to be thrown in the loony bin either. It was just a cleaner, padded prison.
The bailiff dragged him off and handed him over to some people who looked like doctors. They drove him to a building in the middle of nowhere. It had enormous walls all around the grounds. The grounds themselves had little walkways and fountains and generally calming arrangements of flowers.
Inside, the color scheme was white, grey and a dark blue-green. A few guards took away his knife and his string. They put him in a straitjacket, probably just because they could. It goes without saying that he didn't like it.
His room wasn't padded at least. There was a bed, a mirror and a sink. They let him out of the straitjacket, which was actually for formalities apparently and left him alone. The slamming door sounded like a death sentence.
"Well," he whispered. "At least I got away from Master." He laughed softly and lay down on his bed.

Description
Word got out about the Master's death. The police had instantly linked it to Mekeke. They weren't sure what he had done, but the Master was dead and from something that might have been a heart attack.
Mekeke couldn't understand why he was being blamed for this, but he was. He had hurt his Master in some way and that had led to his death. He would be lying if he said he was upset about his Master's unfortunate end. He didn't think he was responsible though. Or was he?
They had a trial, but no matter how many ways Mekeke phrased, "I'm innocent", he was still found guilty. He wasn't going to go to prison. He would kill himself if they told him he was going to prison.
The judge looked down at him. "You have been declared mentally unstable by several doctors and officials. You will be admitted to the mental institution."
It sounded far more appropriate. He had gone a little crazy. But he didn't want to be thrown in the loony bin either. It was just a cleaner, padded prison.
The bailiff dragged him off and handed him over to some people who looked like doctors. They drove him to a building in the middle of nowhere. It had enormous walls all around the grounds. The grounds themselves had little walkways and fountains and generally calming arrangements of flowers.
Inside, the color scheme was white, grey and a dark blue-green. A few guards took away his knife and his string. They put him in a straitjacket, probably just because they could. It goes without saying that he didn't like it.
His room wasn't padded at least. There was a bed, a mirror and a sink. They let him out of the straitjacket, which was actually for formalities apparently and left him alone. The slamming door sounded like a death sentence.
"Well," he whispered. "At least I got away from Master." He laughed softly and lay down on his bed.