I wake up to the sounds of screaming. But this screaming is not the type of screaming that could be heard on the outside. Nor is it the screaming that terrifies me. It's what they say and do that cause my body to tremble and my mind to go to a dark place. My mind enslaves me from the inside. Something that I can never escape. No door, no window, not even a flower to brighten the scenery. Sometimes this prison is made of stone walls and floors, empty, cold, and wet with a since of darkness. Other times, it's so loud one thought can't get out. It's like monster trucks crashing into one another, but amplified. My ears feel like they want to bleed. 

Sometimes this prison is so small, I can hardly breathe and is only big enough for me. I'm told to plant a flower, but how can I when I have no dirt? No water? And when this prison is ever changing? All I have in my hand is this seed of empty promises of beauty and light. 

I find that sometimes this prison never stops speaking, but the voices come from no where. The atmosphere produces them and it's my own voice, but a voice unrecognized nevertheless. My mouth remains still and yet, these voices are never happy, never calm, never silent. I try and talk back to them, but their words overpower mine, my voice is louder than mine. For, all I can seem to get out is a whisper compared. 

At last, I keep trying to shut the voices up and make beauty of what I have. But it's hard to start when you have nowhere to go. When you have no image of anything else. Sometimes I wish I could start over. Whether that be a shock to the prison to restart the system, or by getting a completely new one. But I know neither of those things are an option. So I continue to wait for tools to break up the stone to reveal dirt and I wait for a can of water to plant this seed and watch it grow. I wait to quench my ever dying thirst for change. 

I never wanted a prison for a home, I never asked for these things to happen to me. Yet, unfortunately, other people put me here bit by bit, little by little and somehow it's my job to get myself out. But I've been here for years. I've been to those talking boxes they call therapy sessions for years and yet this prison only seems to get darker. Yeah, when I was younger, I had more anger and less self control, but it wasn't as dark in here as it is now.

The funny thing is, these voices tell me I don't belong here, and as much as I agree, these humans are nothing like me and that I don't belong - I want to stay anyways. I want to be old, sipping coffee on my porch at 6 a.m. in the morning. But I don't want to live in a life of never ending chaos either. I want to be like water... Flowing, calm, everchanging. I want to help people as much as I can. Give them the shovel or hammer or seed to make that change and help them grow that flower or tree. I want to make peoples prisons brighter so that maybe one day, our prisons aren't always prisons, but maybe vacations too. Or whatever that person needs at the time, not bound by chains. 

So, what happens when I get this shovel and I somehow break through this stone floor? I start digging and digging and there never seems to be any dirt, but water instead? Do I jump in the water in hopes that I can swim to a new area? What If I don't make it? What if I can't find the exit in time? Do I train my body to hold my breath for longer and longer periods at a time in case I need it? Do I continue to jump in the water and search for the new land? What if this new area, if there even is one, is worse than here? Could I come back? 

Well, I have the shovel now. It somehow dropped from the sky of my brain. The only lifeline I've received in awhile. I pick up the shovel and I look at the ground at my feet. My toes freeze at the very touch of the ground. The ground also causes pain, as for today it's made of sharp, pointed rocks. 

I decide there's no time like the present and start digging away at the rocks I can see. What's revealed is a thick sheet of ice. Maybe this is why my feet are so cold... I put the seed in my pocket. There's no place to plant it here, especially on top of a block of ice. So I use the shovel to continue digging. Chunks of ice fly everywhere. I grab one and hold it in my hands. The cold stings. But I kind of like it. My hands warm up the ice and it begins to drip. I pour the droplets into my mouth. I instantly craved more as my mouth softens up from the water and the cracks moisten. I grab more ice, it melts even though it stings, and I drink. Eventually I drink all the ice chips and get a stomach ache. Was that too much? I've never tasted water before... 

I start doubling over in pain. Maybe it was poisonous? I'm curled up in a ball now, crying and wishing for the pain to end. Eventually it does, but now I'm scared of the ice. I'm afraid to keep digging. But my mouth is dry again and I miss the taste. 

Days go by and I'm still afraid to touch the ice. But I eyeball it endlessly. I pace around the prison, staring. It's mocking me. Eventually I get up the courage to break through the ice some more. I break and break the ice down, but I don't drink it despite how thirsty I am. I decided to go to sleep surrounded by the shards of ice. I've dug deep, but the brick of ice seems endless. I close my eyes and ponder among the loud voices how long it will take me to get to the end of the ice, until I drift off to sleep. 

When I awake by the screams of my voice in my head, I find the ice I dug up has melted and the brick replenished itself. Does this mean I have to drink the ice to make it go away? I test my theory. I dig up the block of ice once more. I let the ice sting me so it can turn to water and I drink it. I do this until I get a terrible stomachache once more. This makes me angry... I don't understand why I have to put myself into this kind of pain for the ice to go away. Doesn't this prison, the ice, whatever, already know I'm in enough pain as it is? I guess change comes at a cost of more pain. 

I wait until my stomachache subsides and the walls start to close in. I look at them getting closer and closer and I fear it will cover the ice. So I run over to the hole I've dug and I stand in it and watch the walls slowly close in on me. I freeze from my feet up, my toes are ice cold and I shiver. But I have nowhere else to go but stay in this painful place. Di I make a mistake? Should I of let the walls cover up the ice? So many questions, yet no one but me to answer them. 

The warmth of my body starts making the ice melt. But I fear I have no way to drink the water this time. My body slowly descends into the cube of ice. The water rises, the walls are closed in so there is nowhere for the water to go but up and nowhere for my body to go but down. I'm slowly watching myself drown and there's nothing I can do about it. 

I watch until the water reaches my stomach. That's when I start panicking. It doesn't stop. I cup my hands and drink the water, but that makes no change. Why did I do this? I should've just stayed and not changed anything. Look at where change got me, now I'm watching myself in a watery grave. 

I cry out for help, but of course it's only me, myself, and I. What am I to do? I still have the shovel in my hands, but there's no room to use it. If I tried to break the ice some more, I would end up hitting my feet. And of course, the seed won't do anything. Part of me accepts my fate. Am I finally going to start over, like I wanted? But the other part of me also wants to live. I especially don't want to drown. I don't want to be remembered as nothing. 

The water is reaching my head now. I'm still drinking the water, but I'm still drowning in it, and there seems to be no end in sight. I yell out to myself, "Don't let us die!" before the water engulfs me. Head to toe, toe to head, I am covered with cold water. I hold my breath before being merged into the water. I continue to hold it but my chest hurts and my lungs are begging for air. My eyes bulge, but I keep holding my breath anyways. As, I knew once I inhaled, it would be all over from there. However, that's what my body craved. I had to fight the urges. 

My vision started to go black as I descended downwards. Is this the end for me? I truly hoped not. I started to lose consciousness when I saw a beam of light beneath my feet. I watched it as it grew bigger and bigger. It warmed up the water. I was no longer cold. The rest of the ice melted and I was now free. The water washes away from around my body and I took a deep breath. I'm still here, I'm still alive. My eyes came back to life and I found myself in a warmer place. Yet, it was still dark. The light that had saved me had disappeared. 

This new place has so much room in it, so much potential, and wet dirt. I found a place where the water drops onto the soil and I dug up a spot for the seed to be planted in. I sat down and watched what I had done. But nothing was happening. I paced around the empty space. Did I do something wrong? I couldn't have. I was always told to plant things that way. 

So I decided to wait, and wait some more. Eventually the flower started to sprout. I was happy and proud of myself. I then continued to wait and watch it grow each day. But then the water stopped. The flower started to wilt. I started to panic once more. I couldn't let something I grew die. I ran all over the place looking for water, but there was no puddles or ponds, no rivers or lakes. Nothing. No drops of water from the rocks, and so I watched my flower die, quicker than it had grew. Then I got this idea. Dig. So I dug for water. I dug where there originally was water and soon, water started to flow again. But the next day, it stopped and I had to dig some more. This occurred every day. So I decided to build my own lake. I dug a large hole, lined it with rocks so the water couldn't escape and dug all around me. I filled this large hole with water. 

Eventually, more flowers started to sprout as well and grow all around the first one. The area became beautiful to look at and a little brighter. But there was nothing else to do here. I craved more. I could still feel the darkness here. I still wake up to the voices every morning. But where do I go? I didn't see a place where I could go. Or so I thought anyways. 

I took my shovel and started to dig at the ground. I dug and I dug and I dug. But there was nothing here but dirt. I was puzzled, I thought this would be just like the ice. But it wasn't. I looked around in curiosity. Where else could I dig? I walked over to the wall and took the shovel to it, I started hammering the wall with my shovel. Pieces started coming off and flying towards me, ultimately hitting me. "Ouch!" I yelled, with voices above me laughing. But I'll spare you the rest of the things the said.

I continued to chip away at the wall and pieces continued to fly off and hit me. I tried avoiding the pieces, jumping out of the way, but I still got hit. I noticed nothing was happening still. I felt defeated. I sat with my assortment of flowers and held them close, and laid on the ground with them. I admired their beauty. Maybe I should appreciate how far I've come. I fell asleep surrounded by these flowers quickly. 

When I woke up from my slumber, I realized I was in a while new area. There was so much noise and movement all around me and I little kid standing in the middle of it all. This kid didn't seem to be scared at all. There's no telling how long this kid has been here for, but they stand still, staring at me. They're almost recognizable? But I'm unsure of who. I tell the kid to come to me, but they don't. Either because they can't hear me or because they are ignoring me for some reason. I motion for the kid to come over, but yet again they just stare at me. 

I become frustrated and walk over to them. They watch me as I get near, but say nothing as I approach. "Who are you?" I yell at the kid, but nothing. I begin bombarding them with questions. But not one of them gets answered. I huff out loud and cross my arms as if almost like a child being told no. It's so loud in here, I can hardly think. What possibly could I learn in here? 

I looked around this room and all of it looked familiar, but I couldn't think for why it did. Cars driving around, TV blaring, the smell of cigarettes' smoke in the air, making me cough every once in awhile. There was banging all around me, it was like a nightmare in the light. I sat down on this ceramic white tiled floor and stared at this kid some more. They too sat down with me, staring still. Their clothes were filthy. I stared into their eyes and felt a sense of belonging. I felt that to be weird. I took my shirt off and gave it to the kid. The shirt they were wearing had holes in it, must've been cold for them. The kid put the shirt on and suddenly it got a little bit quieter in here. I too thought that to be odd. 

I continued to look at this kid with curiosity. Why were they here? I thought it was just me in here. Maybe... They were me. "Are... you me?" I asked the kid. But no response was given. I don't understand this place. Why am I here? That question continued to ponder in my mind. I continued to look around... I think this is my life, my childhood. 

All the sudden everything came rushing back and I realized that the kid was me and everything around me were things that occurred in my younger years. But it wasn't all bad things in here either. There was two figures playing basketball, my first kiss, the birth of my first born, getting my first apartment - All of these things. I started to walk around, the kid followed me as I did. I walked across the traffic to where the two figures were playing ball and grabbed the ball from them. The two figures disappeared and it was just me standing there with my younger self. 

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

I threw the ball at them and we played for a moment. I didn't realize how good of a player I used to be. Now it seems I can't play at all. For the first time ever since waking up here, I see the kid smile. I smile back, something that I don't think I've done in awhile. It feels good remembering all the good things that happened in the past. But I don't think I was brought here for that. 

It starts to get dark and I'm quickly reminded of the bad in the past too. All good things disappear and a singular orange light comes on. The kid, who is me, darts off into the night. I yell for them to wait, but of course, they don't. I begin frantically looking for them, but see them nowhere. Then I remember that I used to run to a tree during this time of night. I look for the tree, eventually finding it and see the kid at the tallest branch. 

All the sudden this person comes out screaming and throwing things at the kid. I yell for them to stop as the kid trembles, but my words go unnoticed. I try pushing the person away, but my hands go straight through them. I can't change the past... I tell the kid that they are okay, that they aren't at fault for what happened and then everything becomes silent. The kid and I were suddenly standing face to face in a white room. I told the kid they were exactly as strong as they needed to be at that time and they kept us safe. But now it's my turn to keep us safe. The kid ran to us, giving me a big hug. I hold the kid in my arms, tightly and cried. That's when the child whispered, "Thank you for not giving up on us."

When I opened my eyes, they were gone and I was alone again. Although, not quiet, the place I was surrounded by was full of more light and beauty than where I came from. But theres still this darkness above me, too close for comfort. I look around the room and find myself in this hospital room. The shovel is gone, the flowers are gone, the cars are gone, I have nothing here but a bed. I try to leave the room but I'm locked inside. I bang on the door and yell for somebody to let me out. But my words go nowhere. I pace the room, back and forth. I feel like a caged animal, trapped. What was the purpose of this? All the sudden the noise I heard from my first prison came down on me and bombarded me. 

I cupped my ears and begged the noise to stop, but at least, it did not. I cried and cried. I enjoyed the peace, why did this noise come flooding back? I continued to pace the room, growing increasingly agitated by the moment, thinking of all the ways to get out of here. But who could think with this much noise? I was almost baffled by the fact this was once normal to me. What could a hospital signify here? What was I meant to do? 

With my hands still cupping my ears, I look out the little door window and I see a different version of myself out there crying, angry and hurt. I was drunk and scared. "Wake up!" I told myself. I didn't want to remember my reality. The exact one I'm trying to escape from. But no matter how much I asked, my body wouldn't wake up. It was as if my body was asking me to face what happened. 

I continued to watch myself from the outside. I was so miserable in all of these moments. But it's a hospital... Who exactly jumps from joy being in the hospital? Then I noticed something, a doctor, a psychiatrist speaking to me. I denied his treatment. Is this why I'm here? All the sudden, everything seemingly zooms in around me and the psychiatrist is handing me pills from across the table. I... Don't need medicine though. I've always done fine without medication. 

BAM! A loud noise screams out and bangs the wall and my mind goes back to all those moments in the hospital once again. The medication was still sitting in front of me as my mind played a series of negatively impactful coping events from my past like a terrible TV show. Where I was clearly the villain. I did terrible stuff in my past. I stared the medication down, would this really fix all my problems? I took the medication, the voices quieted down a little, but the room didn't change. Did I do something wrong? 

My brain started showing me all the kind things I've done in my life now. It still looked like a terribly written movie. I never saved anyone from dying. I did nothing spectacular. I laid in bed, watching my life replay up until this point, over and over again. Childhood abuse, things I did right, things I did wrong, the abuse I've put others through. I yelled at the TV to stop, but it seems the more I do, the more it draws me in. It was my life, but it was interesting to see how I turned out by how I was treated. It felt like I was analyzing myself. 

I thought I was coping well with everything that happened to me, but maybe not. I was just coping the best I knew how to with what I was given and shown at the time. But I still felt weak... I don't think it was my fault though. I'm just trying to fix what others broke. 

Suddenly, the TV show of my life stopped playing and all was quiet in the room. I was still in the hospital room, on my bed, but in silence. The TV was showing me of when I was a child, hugging and comforting my abuser. I was a great kid. I was always kind and thoughtful. I had bad days, but I wanted to remember my roots too. I was good. I was loving. I am a good person, still. Maybe that was what this place was trying to show me? I didn't feel strong, but I felt human. I felt okay for once. I'm still connected to that kind kid I once was. I just have to get back to that. 

I blinked my eyes and now I was in a classroom surrounded by a bunch of kids. One of them is sitting in front of me, with big curious eyes. Again, they looked like me. They begin asking me questions. "What is your job like?" They say. "My job is complicated." I respond. "Do you like it?" They ask. 

I pause for a moment, not knowing how to respond until I realize that kid is just me in my head. "I don't." I say. 

They look at me puzzled. "Then why do you continue to do it instead of something you like?" The kid asks. 

"It makes money." I say. 

"But doing fun stuff makes money too. Like being an astronaut or a zookeeper! You know, stuff like that."

These lines of questions continued. No matter how complicated or simple my answer was, the response was always something simple in response. I found this interesting. A kid had no worry for money or bills. It was always a carefree, simple life. I wondered what made adults lose that simplicity. 

Sometimes it really was that simple. Do what you enjoy and love and be great at it to do well enough to be paid the money you deserve. We all could benefit from living more simply I feel. Even if it's just one thing thats simple, done routinely - every day. I feel people need to go back to the more simpler days and maybe life will be a bit more easier for everyone. 

I feel I was getting the hang of this, maybe. Each room has something to teach, a lesson. I understood that now. I looked at every single kid in here, each of them are probably adults by now. I hoped they were doing good. I smiled again and closed my eyes. When I opened then again, I was in a white room. I was confused. Suddenly, a large question mark appeared in front of my face and then disappeared. I started thinking about all kinds of things, some stuck, some didn't. Music, for example, stayed in the white void. My kids stayed, among other things. It was nice seeing this white galaxy slowly fill with things I loved and cherished. Things that brought me hope and to look forward to. My chest felt relaxed seeing all these things, and soon I realized what this room was about. It was about hope and joy. I walked around the room and enjoyed all the different things, making sure to lock them into my memory. Then, I peacefully closed my eyes for a moment more. I expected the lesson to be done from here, I learned a lot and felt more at home in my body. It was less a prison and I could say I felt happier. I was ready to wake up now. But when I opened my eyes, there was another room in front of me. 

This room consisted of all the people who loved and cared about me in it. It was a joy seeing all of their faces. I welcomed them with open arms, but the closer I hot to them, the further away they moved. I started to run towards them, but I still couldn't get to them, no matter how fast I ran. It was like a race that never ended. Where was the finish line?

I started walking again, until I was out of breathe. I just wanted to hug my family, even if they were just in my mind. I felt exhausted, I just needed to be loved. I sat down on the ground and watched them from afar. They stared at me, and I begun to cry. I felt unwanted, unloved, and not important. It seemed to be a common theme within my life. Everyone leaves or is afraid to get too close to me. I didn't understand why. I wasn't a bad person, I've done bad things in the moment, but that never was who I was...

I put my head in my knees as I cried. I felt as if I was in the first room again. Trapped with no real direction. Except, family and friends are trapping me this time instead of walls. Suddenly, as I was crying, I felt a hand on my back. I looked up and it was my mom. I immediately reached out and she begun stepping backwards. I realized in that moment that I needed to let the love happen instead of asking for it. I needed to see it was already there without begging. I didn't need to do something first to receive it. I put my arms down and let them surround me with hugs and my mother kissing me on top of my head. Then I noticed a few people that weren't so loving, just standing there staring at me. 

I got up from where I was sitting and I wondered what that meant. Some where old friends, some were people I just met. Then I realized these were people that hurt me in some significant way. Like my ex who crossed mu boundaries significantly. But I let it happen. They left and I thought it was my fault that they did. But now I realize it was never my fault at all. 

My loved ones started to disappear one by one in front of my eyes, leaving the ones I had to face behind. I said goodbye to my mom and then stared back at the others. One by one, they started coming up to me. I told them what they did to hurt me, and told them that moving forward, they will no longer be in my life and I will no longer be associated with them. 

The last person that came up to me was my ex. I was still so in love with her. From the day I met her, I thought she was the one for me. Often I feel she was the one that got away. But today I realized I was the lucky one after all. Despite all the love and care I had for her, she didn't reciprocate it. She wasn't sorry for what she had done. I had to let go of the thought of her coming back. 

I took a deep breath and stared at her dead in the face. I said words I thought I'd never say to her... "Don't come back. You leaving gave me the opportunity for growth. And I did grow today. You coming back would mean I've failed myself. I can't keep doing that. I deserve to love and be loved and respected. Something you're not capable of giving me. The chance disappeared the day you betrayed me. So thank you. Without it, I may of remained stuck in old habits." Then I turned and walked away from her. With only memories of her being left behind. 

As I was walking, the walls around me started changing colors and began narrowing to a hallway. In one direction, I see a door. In the other direction, I see a long, red pathway. I stood in the middle, between looking behind me and looking in front of me. Neither direction gave any clues as to what was in store for me. Just two different directions. 

I stood there for a moment and thought I came all this way by moving forwards, not backwards. So I decided to open the door. So far forwards has never done me wrong. I walked up to the door and touched the knob, opening the door. I saw a bright light shine through the door. I walked through and instantly I woke up on a couch with my doctor sitting in a chair next to me. 

He gets up from his chair and greets me. "Welcome back." He says. I sit up, groggy and slowly start to remember everything that took place prior to my dream. "It's good you chose the door. I was afraid you might've chose the pathway instead." My doctor says. 

"What's the difference?" I ask. 

"The pathway resembles that you have unfinished business you need to heal from still. It's essentially stopping you from getting better. Most people choose the pathway. Usually because they didn't learn anything from the different rooms. But you absorbed everything. I'm proud of the progress you've made." He says. 

"Thank you. I learned a lot." I responded. 

"Well, there's still much to learn and heal from. Would you like to do this again in six months?" He asked. 

"Why six months?" I asked. 

"Your mind is healing, I want you to give it time to process and for you to reflect on guided talk therapy. You might realize you just want to talk through the rest of it too." He says. 

"Will I still see you next week?" I ask. 

"Every week like always." He smiles. 

I tell him thank you and he advises that the session is over for the day and reminds me that I've done good work. He said to write in my journal my reflections for next weeks sessions and then sends me on my way. I walk out the door feeling like a brand new person. Even though I still have many more adventures to go on before I can put all my pieces back together again, I feel more confident that I will live to do so.