The days passed in a blur. I went to the white room. I was injected. The burning, the nausea. All of it. Over and over. Every day, multiple times a day. Sometimes I encountered the sweet relief of a shot that didn’t hurt as bad. Then it was back in the cell, back into dreams, back into nightmares. The moment my life collapsed. The shots, but more painful. The harsh grip and cold words of the doctors. The dreams soon blurred with reality. It became one after the other. Wake up, injection, pain, sleep. Dream of waking, injection, pain, sleep. It was my life and I had accepted it, until the best day of my new life occurred. I woke, expecting harsh hands, cold needles, and pain. Instead I found only me and my cell. No injections or doctors. Only peace. On top of it all, when sleep finally arrived, my dreams were of peace. I remembered my family, all but forgotten until then. The praise and kindness. I knew it would make the cold reality harsher yet when I awoke, but until then I basked in the kindness of my past family. Then reality returned.
