All around me there is nothing but white. All around me there is nothing but noise. No matter how much I walk, it is white. I might be walking in circles, but I would never know it. There is no silence; my ears, my head, ache from the sound constantly assaulting me. No matter where I walk, it follows me, incessant. I am trapped, jailed by endless blankness and unceasing noise. There is no escape.

Sometimes the noise becomes clearer, like voices. I think they're voices. I'm not sure; it has been so long since I have heard a voice. At least, I think it has been a long time. There is no time when there is no reprieve from the white and the noise. The noise that begins to sound like words now. There is no escape.

It's taunting me now. Sometimes the noise gets softer, like I might be able to experience sweet blissful silence for just a second, please just a second, but it bursts forth again, louder than ever, before I can even get a taste of that silence, that silence that is so close I can almost taste it, almost feel it. There is no escape.

I want to wrap the silence around me like a blanket. The noise is sharp and harsh and cold. It won't leave me alone. There is no escape.

I dug out my eyes long ago, and if I can't see the white anymore, maybe the noises won't be quite so bad. There is an escape.

I was wrong. If anything, the noises are louder, worse than before. The voices that come sometimes are clearer, they taunt me. There is no escape.

I cover my ears with my hands but it does nothing. I can still hear them, jeering and laughing. There is still an underlying buzz that I feel, deep in my bones. The hum, so high pitched that it fades in and out, is blatantly present and instant. There is no escape.

I run sometimes, I try to outrun the voices. There is nothing to trip over, here in my jail that is empty but for the noise. There is no escape. I am desperate to escape.

I am not sure if I am alive. Sometimes I claw at myself, bite myself, desperate to feel pain, anything, for just a moment, but then it fades and I begin to doubt that I felt anything at all. There is no escape.

I cannot run anymore. Now, I just lie on the ground. Even the noises aren't bothering me as much. The black is dark and soothing. Maybe I can be freed. There is an escape.

The noises are back and they have brought hands to punish me for hoping. Hands that touch and push and prod and stroke me. Please don't, stop, I think I am begging but the noises around me are drowning me, drowning me out, I don't even know if I am talking. There is no escape.

These hands choke me until I gasp for air and cannot breathe it. They tickle me until I sob from pain. They pull me apart as though I am a puzzle. They open me, though I beg them not to. And all the while, there is the noise, the voices, mocking and laughing.

There is no escape.