When we got back from the lunchroom I went to check my stuff. I didn’t have much, a couple of shirts and pants and a stuffed animal that had a picture of my mother and sister attached to it. I wore my jacket and carried my comb and toothpaste on me. If they were stolen I would likely have to wait a day or two for replacement . Damn thieves, it’s bad enough being locked up in a mental institution, but when your shit is always getting stolen it really sucks.
Sure enough, my stuffed animal was gone. Damn, damn, damn, that was all I really owned. It was a symbol that I knew someone and someone knew me, even though my family may have well of been ghosts. I was alone in my mind and I was alone in the world and someone had just stolen my…… life. This was the last straw.

Experience told me who was behind it. I walked down the dark hallway(it was always a dusky gray in there) to the day-room. My anger rose with every step I took. My anger was so huge that only calmness could be seen by others. Not the calmness of someone relaxed , but one of such twisted importance that everyone must have seen its instability. “Where’s my bear?” so calm, so easy.
Laughter…denial…...this was not what I had hoped for. I removed my jacket, folded it and placed it over the back of the plastic coated cement furniture. I am not sure why I did that but at the time it seemed necessary. I turned back to her and she laughed again. I do not think my expression faltered or I even took one breath deeper, I just hit her in the face with a right hook that sent her flying and crashing to the floor. “Now, I calmly said, if anything else of mine ever gets stolen I am going to beat your ass even if your not the one who took it.” I turned, put my jacket back on, and although this was witnessed by Staff not one word was spoken as I walked back to my bunk.