Emman Jemuel R.

Velos PSYCH 1 BJ
Note: Im sorry this one took too long to pass, maam. I simply forgot about the deadline. I finished doing this last
last week but I just forgot about the Tuesday deadline. And I knew that you wouldnt accept it at that time so Im
just hoping that you accept it along with the other requirements. Enjoy reading, maam. :D
Five years. Five years Ive stood between these bars that make up this bastille; faint
drops of water echoing through the empty halls; holes in the wall that serve as a sanctuary to
vile vermin that roam the sewers; the smell of urine ubiquitous across the cells; an aura of
anguish and despair prevalent in the eyes of the convicts. And this has been my home for the
past five years. Five years.
Five years Ive been forcing myself to wake and rise only to realize that Im still living out
a nightmare. Five years Ive been looking up at a crack in the ceiling dreaming of the day I can
finally get out and feel the wind on my skin. Five years Ive been forced to remember, day in
and day out, the events that transpired leading to my incarceration. It has been five years since
then. My name is Robert Bernhardt. This is my story.
Goldilocks and the Three Bears
I was cheerful man. I was a happy man. I was a family man. I had a beautiful wife. Her
name was Mary Anne. She had the most beautiful hazel eyes Ive ever laid eyes on. She had
long, curly brown hair. When she smiled, I would feel that my heart would smile, as well.
We had a beautiful 10-year-old son named Robert Jr. He was a good son. He would
always heed my advice and he would always seek it whenever he needed guidance. I would
always tell him stories before he went to bed.
We owned a little fruit stand on the far side of town. And because of that, we were
always together. We would always eat together. And after dinner, we would always go on walks
together. And because we have always been together, the people in town nicknamed us The
Bers (Bears). I was called Papa Bear, Mary Anne was Mama Bear, and my dear Robert Jr. was
our little Baby Bear. It was fun being called all that. And because of that, out-of-towners would
rarely visit or just even come by our house because they thought we were real bears. But it was
alright. As long nobody hurt my family, it was alright.
And then came that day.
It was the beginning of summer. Mary Anne went out to the store to pick up some
groceries. We were getting bored at home so Junior and I went out to go harvest fruits for our
stand. It was at the northernmost part of our farm 5 miles out. So we packed lunches. 10
minutes into our journey, I realized that we had forgotten to bring our fruit picking equipment
so we went back.
Upon reaching our home, I saw that the door was unlocked so I realized that Mary Anne
was back from groceries. But no groceries were in sight. Papa, look, Junior exclaimed.
Somebodys been eating porridge. As I looked around, I saw that Mary Annes shoes were on
the floor. So we went upstairs.
As I went to our room, I saw that all the sheets were out of place. All the pillows were
on the floor. It was basically a mess. But one sight horrified me. I saw my wifes shirt and pants
on the floor. Mama, whos that? shouted Robert Jr. I raced to his room only to find Mary
Anne in Juniors bed, naked, with Goldberg Locke, our neighbors gardener. He had blonde,
curly hair, so all the people in town nicknamed him Goldilocks.
She tried to explain. Apparently she got sick of all the non-excitement in our life. But
everything she said was muffled with all the rage I felt at that point. And then, suddenly, I just
snapped.
Everything went blank. Everything went black. I couldnt control myself. I just grabbed
the nearest bat I could find and hit Goldie in the head. Mary Anne tried to stop me but I hit her
in the head, as well. Repeatedly. Repeatedly, I had smashed both of them in the heads,
alternating between Mary Annes and Goldies heads. When I came to, all I saw was a bloody
mess, with their naked, lifeless bodies, lying on the ground. They were so smashed in that it
looked like a bear just mauled them to death. And Junior was nowhere in sight. It turned out
that when he saw me grab the bat, he ran to the neighbors to call for help. And when the police
came to our house, they saw me there sitting on the floor, with a blank look on my face,
holding my wifes lifeless body.
In court, I pleaded guilty to two counts of murder and they sentenced me to 10 years in
jail. And Ive been here ever since. Junior, because of the trauma, was forced to undergo
psychological therapy for a few years and was adopted by a childless couple up-state. I never
heard of or heard from him again.

So that was my story. The story of how Goldilocks ruined my life. After that incident,
though, my fellow inmates raved on how it looked like a bear did it. So the name Papa Bear
really stuck. I like it. My name is Robert Bernhardt. Just call me Papa Bear.