Drifting.
Endless drifting.
Sometimes I feel I could sit here for days and I would still be drifting.
Not only in my mind but as a person, within a system.
These walls, no longer white but a dirty grey, they hold me prisoner even in my salvation. Some days they seem to close in around me, comforting me with their presence, their constant stability. They will not fall.
The clock flashes, it's digits red, albeit time does not change. Perpetually flashing 20:15, I have to look out the window for the time of day. Days are one and the same here.
There are occasional murmurs, changes. New people arrive, while some, the lucky ones, get to leave. I wish to leave with them.
The fence, with its wire tendrils crossing one another until they form points along the top, I am unsure of it. I do not know if it is meant to keep us inside, hidden away from the world, or others outside, so they do not see what happens here.
It is not a pretty sight.
I have not seen anything pretty in a long time. Even before I ended up here, I wasn't anywhere special. But it was home.
Home.
The word means so many different things to so many different people. To me it was my family. My mother, my father, my sister. Nothing else mattered, we were home to each other.
Until we were not. Now they are gone, lost to the sea and I don't know what home is anymore.
YOU ARE READING
Asylum
General FictionWhat would you do if you lost your family? How would you cope in a place you cannot leave? This is the story of a boy who has nothing left to lose. Step into his asylum, his hope and his hell.
