The white sterile walls, an uncomfortable hospital bed. The scars covering my body, the gnawing pain of chains, the burns on my ankles and wrists barely register anymore. I can’t move, and I am forced to deal with reality. I am like the house I once lived in, empty and barely standing. I didn’t want to be here, but I didn’t feel trapped in this hospital: I was trapped in my own thoughts. Screaming and clawing trying to find my way back but I was too far-gone. I have been devoid of hope and I have had no plan on coming back. Maybe….