Alex was scared.
The walls were bending around him, the skies were on fire, and his eyes were bleeding with pain. Alex did not know where he was, he did not know when it was, and he did not know who he was.
Because his thoughts were all seeping into the white walls surrounding him, painting the corners with questions and queries, and his heart was dripping red onto the ceiling.
Alex, though he sat in solitude, was never alone.
He was accompanied always by his liquid fear. He was drowning in it- choking on it. No matter how hard he scrambled to the surface, he was never able to break through.
And Alex was scared.
When nothing was certain, everything was a storm. His tears were the hail, his blood was the hurricane, and his eyes were the dust.
The disaster lashed through him, tearing out his courage and his confidence, leaving behind a murky forest full of anger, frustration, and deception.
Alex didn't want to live this way anymore.
So he didn't.