Bitter. The air was thick like morning fog. The stench was unbearable. There was a hint of mold and cigars, just like every other room in the building. The smell was even stronger here. Running was the only option I had. My aching feet wanted to go back, but my mind was set on the darkness ahead.  The hallway was dim, almost pitch black, and the stone walls were covered in dark smears and smudges. I breathed in once more, the dampness making my throat dry. But if I coughed, they would hear me.
         A crunching sound formed with every step. I realized that shattered glass lay everywhere. Why the hell would there be glass here anyway?  I tried to avoid stepping on it, but it carpeted the entire floor. Dread. Now the feeling began to drip through me, and coil around my heart. The pressure, the stress, and the panic engulfed me.
         My family. It was painful thinking about them. I would hold Alice in my lap, never letting go of her soft small fingers. Her little puffy cheeks would bring out the joy in me. Her smile was bigger than anyone’s. I never let go of her, but she was the one who did. They took her away, tears spilling down her pale cheeks as she kicked, struggled, and cried. The sounds she let out stabbed my heart with icy daggers. She looked at me from the window of the car. My wife held her in her lap. She was strong, but her sorrow was undeniable. Her yells were carried away by the wind. But the wind brought them back to me at night, when I would sit alone in the cell.
         My breathing paused. My ears picked up a sound I prayed that I wouldn't hear. But as it is grew louder, I was more aware of it. The barks of dogs echoed down the hall. My stomach tightened, but my boldness grew. My feet raced across the glass as Alice's face burned into my head. Her sad, hazel eyes were swollen with tears. They were larger than her smile. The thought of a chance to see her again pushed me forward.
         The hallway grew brighter. The walls and the leaking pipes running on the ceiling became the past. The crunching sound suddenly ceased, like a wave receding back from the shore. I strained, trying to remember the ocean. I tried picturing the peaceful blue sea, or a stormy one, with its monotonous gray color. No. Someone stole the memory from me.
         I was now at the end of the hallway. I stopped to listen for any sound of the approaching hounds. Nothing. They became yet another memory in my collection. Ever since I was put here, my entire life was based on the memories. I was controlled by the past.
I turned my attention back to the radiant light that stung my eyes. The glow was coming from a room, one,  I've been in before. It brought back revolting memories. A raspy voice from inside broke the lingering silence.
         "Mr. Lendon. I see you there. You know perfectly well that you cannot hide from me."
         His voice had a heavy British accent. He put too much emphasis on some of his words. It was as though he wanted to frighten me and mock me, all at the same time.
         I remained silent, only slowly and steadily breathing. I could feel him growing impatient.
         "Mr. Lendon?"
         I still had my mouth shut.
         "Mr. Lendon? I would like to speak with you."
         I started to shake; not from the cold breeze blowing through my hair, but from the fury boiling inside. The steam rose into my head.
         "Shut up! Shut up! Shut the hell up! You sick beast! You took me away from my family. I had to see them cry. Do you even have a heart?" I hadn't realized it, but I started to pant. I was kneeling down outside his office. The man inside lit a Cuban cigar, and puffed out a cloud. He reached for his radio and whispered, "Patient 73 has escaped and is at my doorway. Assistance required." He then returned his attention to me.
         "It was for your own good. You posed a great threat to them. Your unstable,  Mr. Lendon, and you already know that." He paused to take another puff of his cigar. My hands trembled, as I carefully stroked my fingers against the oak door. Peeping through a crack, I saw The Keeper. His abnormally large body was sprawled in a chair, while his hands ran across the papers on the desk. I barged into the room, and his smile broadened. But behind the grin, I could sense a hint of fear. I finally had the upper-hand. I was the one in control. The Keeper reached for his glasses, and wiped the fog off.
          I pulled up a chair, not minding  the ear- piercing, scraping sound  of metal against wood. I placed it on the other side of The Keeper’s desk, while he put out his cigar in a rusty ashtray. I stayed seated, and stared into the eyes of the man. He seemed to ignore me as he scribbled on a piece of paper. Hours passed, but I kept staring at him without fidgeting a muscle.
         I threw the first punch, making contact with his nose. Drops of blood trickled out. He collapsed to the floor with a large thud. I jumped off the chair, and landed on top of the limp body. I let out all my rage, one hit after another. With my last blow into his chest, I felt a searing pain in my back. Quickly, the pain flowed into drowsiness. Sleep washed through my thoughts and cleared them out. The needle left me motionless. I caught a glimpse of the nurse. She carefully inspected the unconscious man next to me. She stepped over the drops of blood that seeped into the floor. After a while, her hazel eyes locked with mine. Before I completely slipped away, I heard her voice, a sweet and a high pitched one that sounded like Alice’s.
        “It’s about time we give him the strong meds. Mr. Lendon’s mind is a ticking time bomb.” The nurse whispered into the radio clipped onto her stained hospital uniform.