The Glass Wall

 

  The glass wall had been surrounding me when I started to remember things.

   I was in a glass cage everyday. The cage was round and completely transparent. I wasn't sure whether it had ceiling.

  One thing was for sure, that I was not imprisoned. The glass wall always went with me. It even changed its shape when I was sitting or lying, though it was made of hard glass. That was why I had no problems in moving.

  I had no idea about who had sent me into this cage. I didn't know why I had to stay in the cage, either. But I wasn't complaining. In fact, I thought the life in the glass cage was quite fine.

  I could even get things that I wanted. There was a square hole at the bottom of the cage. The only thing I had to do was to ask people to put things in front of the hole, then I could get them in by my self.

  When I went to school, I found out that living in a glass cage is special, even weird. I hadn't seen a person who had a glass wall like me, I was sure they hadn't, either.

  The first grade was the worst. Some of the students kept looking at me just like looking at the beasts in the cage, and the others stared at me commiseratively.

  It got better as soon as they found out that I could do things as well as other students do.

  "How can you get out from that?" a girl once asked.

  "I don't know. I haven't tried."

  "Haven't tried?" she said, looked surprised, "if I am you, I'll try thousands of ways to get out from that thing!"

  "It isn't that bad," I murmured. But she seemed not listening.

  Several years had passed peacefully. But I soon knew I would not be lucky all the time.

  It happened when I was ten.

  My English teacher was a terrible woman with straight, black hair. At first, I didn't know how terrible she was.

  She often stared at me with a strange look when I was reading poems or doing reports. I couldn't describe the look. Was it sympathy? But it was a bit different from other people's looks.

  One day, when the English class was over, and all of the students were walking out from the classroom, she suddenly called me.

  "Lend me a hand, Dawn, will you?" she said.

  Without letting me answer, she pushed me into the elevator. 

  "We'll need some dictionaries next week," she said briskly, "so I need someone to help me carry them."

  The doors opened, she led me out and walked immediately to her office. I followed her and went in.

  "Come here," she called. I did so. The glass wall kept changing its shape to dodge the bookshelves.

  The teacher was busy removing those dictionaries from the shelf, and placing them in front of the hole of the glass wall.

  I picked all of them up. When I stood up again, the teacher disappeared.

  Then the light was turned off. The teacher went back.

  "Poor you," she said, shaking her head.

  "I'm sorry?"

  "No, no, you should not be sorry, you don't have to be sorry for anything, my dear!" she said softly, "but I feel sorry about you."

  "Me?" I asked, getting more and more confused.

  "Don't be sad, dear, but look at you... always imprisoned in that thing! This isn't fair, isn't it?"

  "No — I mean, I'm not imprisoned — " I denied, but my answer didn't satisfy her.

  "That's your illusion," said the teacher, "you're laboring under your illusion, my dear! Of course, the bad things always do — create the illusion. They make you think they're good."

  "The glass wall doesn't make any harm."

  "Really?" she said with a smooth, sweet tone, "think again, dear, what keeps you separate from the whole world? What makes you cannot touch people?"

  "I don't want to touch anyone," I murmured.

  "Come on, don't be shy," she laughed, "no one likes to be separated!" she smiled, and said gently, "now just relax, my dear, let me help you."

  "No, thanks," I said quickly, "I don't need any help, Miss — "

  "Do what I said! You will know that I am right!" she screeched.

  I dropped the dictionaries on my feet, but I could hardly feel pain. The teacher kept screaming and shouting, I didn't know what was she talking about, because it was too loud to understand.

  The floor was shaking. The teacher screamed even louder, all I could do was to cover my ears. I began to shake too; she spurred my heart to beat like hers.

  The teacher screamed as loud as she could. Her voice became keen and thunderous. I was kneeling on the floor.

  After a few painful seconds, the glass wall exploded.

  It was silent, but silence seemed odd now. The teacher disappeared again. There were pieces of broken glass everywhere. 

  I stood up, then I suddenly knew: 

  I was out of the cage, but liberty had left me forever.

  The light was too bright, and the voices were too sharp. I got more dizzy when I placed another step forward.

  "Wow, Dawn, you get out from that?" cried a girl, "hey, look at this! Dawn gets rid of that thing!"

  I narrowed my eyes. Gets rid of?

  Lots of student gathered around me, I could hear them saying:

  "Congratulations!"

  "Good for you! Oh, I really hate that damn wall!"

  "How did you do that?"

  "It feels like we finally meet you, Dawn!"

  "You made my day!"

  "Excuse me," I murmured, getting through them. They looked at me in astonishment.

  I rushed to the teacher's office. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

  "Come in," said a delighted voice. I opened the door.

  "Oh, it's you, Dawn," said the teacher briskly, "have a seat! Let's have a pleasant talk."

  "I don't think so," I said, shivering with anger. 

  "What do you mean, dear?" 

  "Why did you do this to me?" she said nothing. "May I ask?" I added.

  She looked me in the eye. "Don't you understand? I am helping you. I am trying to set you free."

  "It doesn't look like you are."

  "You don't have to understand it now. It's okay. At last," she paused, took a sip of her coffee, "you would know that I am right."