"I didn't do it!" A voice is heard crying in the dark prison cell. "You need to believe me. I am innocent."

I wake up feeling startled, my breathing heavy. I place my hand on my forehead, wiping the little sweat present.

I cannot believe that I am having the same dream all over again. The dream has been haunting me for days now, and it is starting to irritate me.

I am out of that place, but why do I feel trapped? Why do I still think of the place?

I sigh, standing up from the bed. I slowly walk towards the window, my attention on the people that are outside, different expressions on their faces.

Some look happy. Some look sad. Some look tramatized. Some look lifeless. Some look like me, conflicted.

I have been in rehab for three months, and I do know that I am getting better. But I also know that my mind is conflicted. I do feel like I am alive. I do feel like I am living again.

But I also feel trapped. I feel like I am trapped in my body, and mind. I feel like my body has been tied to a wall. I feel like I am being held hostage. My mind feels like it is in a prison cell.

I feel like I have been locked up again.

"Hi, Diego!" I hear my therapist's voice call out to me, joy in her voice, something that I find a bit annoying. She is one person that is always happy, even in the morning.

I turn around, my eyes locking with Mrs Rodriguez's grey eyes. She like always, has a cheerful smile on her face. Mrs Rodriguez is a woman in her late fifties, and she is quite a talker. And I think that is what makes her a good theripist, she listens and advises without holding back.

"You are here early," I say, walking to sit on the couch opposite her. I quickly glance at the wall clock, and the time is ten a.m.

"I am," She begins, grabbing her notepad and pen. "I found you asleep, and so I decided to go and get us both some coffee," She continues, handing me a mug with my favorite coffee.

I gladly accept the coffee, taking a sip from it. I woke up six hours ago, and I did brush my teeth then. I had nothing to do, and that is why I lay my head on the bed, not knowing that I would fall asleep.

"I heard you murmuring some words when I got here," Mrs Rodriguez says, sipping from her coffee. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asks with concern in her voice, something that I am used to.

I place my cup of coffee on the small coffee table, my focus on Mrs Rodriguez who is looking at me with a small encouraging smile on her face, something that always gets me to talk.

Mrs Rodriguez is kind, and very friendly. The woman is never too serious, and she never judges. She will listen to you ramble, and she will act like you are two friends who are sharing a very serious story. She makes me feel comfortable when it comes to talking about my feelings.

"I had the dream, again," I murmur, looking at the table. "The dream seems so crazy.... I always hear myself crying, calling out for help. But the words keep changing. Sometimes I will say that I am innocent, and sometimes I will be saying that I need to breath. But I have observed something.... I always end up crying for freedom." I say with frustration in my voice.

"Do you still see yourself in the dark room?" Mrs Rodriguez asks, staring at me. I nod, leaning back into the chair.

"I think you are trapped in your head. You want to let go of your past, but your head will not let you. You are fighting yourself, and your mind now. The mind is dangerous, and sometimes stupid. It will hold you back from things that will fix you." Mrs Rodriguez says, placing her glasses on the table.

"I remember when you came here three months ago, you had so much determination and you always said that you want to get better. But after the first week, you started harming yourself. If you remember, I found you with a razor blade, and when I asked you what it was for, you answered, and said that it is to make you feel better. Your mind has set a routine, if you sit idle for too long it will start telling you words that have been set in you."

I look away when she says the words, not wanting to show her that I remember. She already knows that I am vulnerable, and it hurts me to see that.

"Diego, the mind is like a seed. Your parents watered it with poison, the words that they said to you when you were younger are what formed the negativity in your head. You will keep blaming yourself, but you are not at fault; you were never at fault." Mrs Rodriguez says, offering me a small smile. "You want to be free, and those dreams you are having are evidence. You see yourself crying for help because that's what you want. But your mind is what is holding you back,"

"I'm tired," I whisper, laughing as the words leave my mouth. "I am tired of feeling like this. I feel happy for one minute, and the next I feel like dying. I always tell myself that I am enough. I tell myself that I have gotten better, that I will be back home with Hunter and Siara... But I feel like that is just a dream. I feel like I will be here for a long time," I continue, looking at the floor.

"Diego, do you know that you are an inspiration?" Mrs Rodriguez says, which makes me chuckle, finding the words funny. "No, I'm serious. A few people survive suicidal thoughts and death. I have seen people that became numb when they found out that they survived, and it was actually sad. You are here fighting to survive, you are here to prove to all the people that are fighting their demons that they can survive. The voices might be strong, and they might be hurting you. But those voices are just in your head. Your mind was sheltered from the light, and it is time for you to bring it back to the light. It is never too late." Mrs Rodriguez says, with a smile on her face.

AUTHOR'S NOTE.

Did this chapter even make sense?!

I don't know, but I wanted to show you another side of Diego:-)

This story is coming to an end soon, and I don't even know how to end it. Its like my head is in the clouds:-(

And how can I write a mature theme? I need help!

Be safe and happy ❤️