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Free Me

Free Me

The scratching on the walls were driving me crazy. Everyday I search the house for rodents, I called a half dozen different pest control companies and they found nothing. Tomorrow I am going to break the wall down and finally find out what is causing that annoying scratching sound.

I opened my eyes, and stared straight at the bane of my sleep. The wall in front of me, so innocent. Just a wall with a painting of a girl running through a field of jasmine hanging on it. The real estate lady said it was a painting of the previous owners daughter. As I lay here looking at the painting, I can still hear the scratching behind that wall. It sounds like something is trying to gnaw its way out. Soon the sun will rise and I will take a hammer to it.

At last, the sun is rising. I rush out of bed straight to the garage to get my hammer. As I rushed back into my bedroom, hammer in hand. The painting, it has been turned around.

I stand there staring at the back of the painting for what seems like an age. There are two words scratched into the back of the painting “FREE ME”.

I don't understand, I look out the window and see my neighbor walking out to his mailbox. I shout out to him to come over. He hears the panic in my voice and rushes over. When he sees the back of the painting. His reaction surprises me, his eyes start to tear up. He turns to me. “The Painting needs to be burned” he says, it sounds like he is in pain, the grief makes him sound hoarse.

When I tell him about the scratching, he doesn't seem surprised.

“they didn't tell you about what happened to Sue did they?” he asked me in a low voice.

“she was 10 when the accident happened, it was a drunk driver, Sue and her mother survived. But Hank didn't make it and Sue was paralyzed from the waist down. She would lie in bed for hours looking at the painting of when she could run in the fields. Until one day she couldn't take it anymore and she took her mothers sleeping pills”

I asked him if he knew them.

“Me and hank were old drinking buddies, until the night of the accident. I haven't had a drink since the night I hit their car on the way home” He told me, his eyes shiny with unshed tears.

We took the painting into the yard, and as we watched it burn, I swear I smelled Jasmine.
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