The door closed, and the room plunged into blackness again. It was the third time tonight. Alone again, no sound, but the steady ticking of the clock and the gentle rhythmic thump of my heart pounding away inside me, beat after beat in perpetual motion. I lay there in that room with no company and cast my eyes from one corner of it to the next, there was nothing I could discern, but solitude and darkness, a dense consuming gloom that was strongest in the epicentre of those areas joining floor and ceiling to wall and could hide a million evils. I knew it did not, I knew the room, it was my room. The same room I had occupied for the past year.

The boy always visited me, he loved to come, every night to start with, then as the months passed it seemed to tail off to twice or three times a week. We do not seem to be so close now, which is understandable. How can I be a normal father to him, under these circumstances, it was totally unthinkable and inconceivable? Love between us seems to be a lost cause and that distresses me. The whole world seems to be fading away right in front of me and I am wholly incapable of halting the contagion.

My eyes become accustomed to the light as the night dissipates and shapes and images come to life in different parts of the clinically bare room. A large landscape painting completes the wall opposite the window and several dark still life oils hang in a bizarre expressionless clump above the lifeless black fireplace. They could so easily have been holes, tunnels from which a thousand nameless species of horror enter my room, but today they are just pictures, empty of form and motionless. Yesterday I was gripped in fear, an innate frenzy of suffering, of being trapped, helpless and alone. Would they return and attempt to devour me as they had tried to do so often in the past? The morning was just breaking, coming to life, like it always did. The woman would come running, calling a name I’m not aware of and calm me down as she had done on so many occasions before. There was a sedative, I think, it made my arm sting, but I cannot remember, I only recall her beautiful smiling face staring at me, a look of sadness evident in her sultry pallor. She moved in slow motion, hands stretched forward, I remember, almost animation without speech, she talked yet I heard nothing. The room was silent. “Don’t go.” I cried. “I’m frightened.” I never heard the reply. I never heard her leave.

Rain lashed the window, sounds like rice thrown against a toy drum, I remember as a child that impenetrable noise always caressed me to sleep, it never failed. Natures own lullaby, a sweet and powerful hypnotic force. Tonight, it woke me, how long asleep I cannot remember, maybe hours, maybe days, time is unimportant in this room. Yet each time I wake from dreams the darkness is always there, solid like a wall that can’t be pierced. This perpetual night surrounds me, I lay constantly in a bath of darkness. Where is the light to give hope and reassurance, let it cradle me and nurture faith back to this broken body? What the hell! I cried for hours in my cell of pity and the dark turned to light as another dawn broke slowly through the gloom.

Another woman entered the room some time later, a tray in one hand and a paper in the other. “Good morning, what a beautiful day it is, have you seen the sunshine, it’s enough to cheer the spirits of any mortal soul?” She looked at me all intense, pondering her position, her stealth, I could see those eyes dart hither and thither, slight embarrassment in her smile. I made no reply, perhaps my thanks turned to sudden hatred of her normality or was it an emotion of envy filtering across my senses? Yes, envy was there in my head, growing strong like a burgeoning plague. Maybe it was the graceful movements, sleek and measured like a ballet dancer or her elegance of dress, or the bright eyes and shining hair. It stirred me, pressured my mortal senses and I hated and feared every step, every twitch of those feminine fingers, every flick of her lustrous hair. This was a specimen of perfection and I a wreck, a wretched shell, whose emotions only breed pity and sadness into the onlooker’s mind. Perhaps it would be simpler for all concerned if I were dead? The women in this establishment squander their time on me, it would be better spent cradling those capable of convalescence, a person worthy of time and effort. At very least somebody capable of giving gratitude on recovery. Me, ha, a forlorn effort on their part, that’s for sure, a pure waste of time. A human tragedy worthy of Shakespeare himself, for all I can give is appreciation in my will.

“How do you feel today?” the woman enquired. “Would you like to get up, I can take you outside for a breath of fresh air if you like?” She finished talking and bustled about, occasionally looking at me pathetically. I could read her thoughts. I still made no reply, but just stared through her unconcerned and uncaring of her feelings.

“Can you eat something Mr. Dean, you must try and keep your strength up, you know.” She suddenly said as an afterthought. I laughed inside my head, was this her idea of a joke, a serious comment on my condition? Keep my strength up. Me, struggling with the everyday mediocrity of a half-life and a soul as empty as a dried-up river bed and I must eat to live? Ha, the hypocrisy of it all. Most amusing when you consider the ramifications of my survival ability. God, I hate these double standards and most of all I detest this ridiculous shallow existence. A rage overcame me, instantaneous, like an emotional squall and somehow, I manage to raise myself up and knock that stupid tray of food to the floor, the contents scattered everywhere. The carpet was a mess, but deep inside I was glad I’d rebelled against this demon of normality. I hated her, hated her very existence on this earth. She was everything I despised – the human race would be better off without her meddling creation I suggested to myself.

The window slammed shut heavily and I awoke with a start. The wind was howling through the streets, whistling around the limbs of trees outside my window. My heart was beating rapidly, the blood pumping fiercely through my veins, pounding in my head like some demented percussionist beating out the rhythm of voodoo chant. I was already afraid. Here it comes again I thought, another time, but same place, another variation of the same menace come visiting, the scenario but a repeat performance, the characters all known assailants looking for a game to play. Fear swept over me like a cool breeze and in my minds eyes the previous story line unravelled like an aged reel of celluloid cast to the floor. I knew they were in the room, those hideous things of blackness and dread, the feeling was electric, but the howling wind hid the delicate shuffling of their limbs as they moved slowly down the tunnels. Those same endless passages that once were pictures hung to ease the tortured mind, giving pleasure and solitude to the furrowed brow. Nearer and nearer they approached, how many this time I could not guess, I just knew the feeling, the fearful apprehension, the cold sweat, just waiting again in the darkness of the night, alone. The flimsy bed coverings made me feel safe and I pulled them tightly around my neck, my hands gripping the underneath to strengthen the defences. I tried to shout to attract attention, even raised my hand at one point as a useless symbolic gesture, but there was no one to help. There was no sound from my mouth, the air hung silent, I was totally alone.

After a while things became different, I noticed a dramatic change, the terrific fear I witnessed disappeared and a wholesome glow began to radiate threw the room. A hazy light punctured the stark blackness of the atmosphere and presently I floated, slowly at first, through a paradise of my own making, eventually drifting majestically upon a beautiful world through my very own tunnels. The very same pictures that previously breathed evil and terror. It was unbelievable, like a cartoon, bright and cheerful, a place where you knew no harm would transpire, where there was only love and harmony.

Creatures no longer existed in this place, no horrific monsters, just an overwhelming sensation of joy and understanding devoured me like the gratitude of a fur coat on a cold winter’s morning. Looking around, this was no hallucination, it was reality and I was holding the stage, the leading character. A distant figure appeared in a shadowy haze. It was a man, with a face of wisdom and compassion. His features almost vague, transparent, but the bulk of his torso was large, and it remained still and silent as if pondering an introduction. The fear had long since departed and a warmth surrounded me. I felt like a new born baby wrapped in a fleecy blanket. Was this my rebirth, my homecoming? I said hello to my new friend and we talked awhile and then left together through the shimmering mist.

Suddenly brilliant light flooded the room and a man, a woman and the familiar boy walked quickly inside. The man hurried over and attended to the machines at the side of the bed, occasionally glancing my way with a stern face. He moved me, looked in my eyes and laid hands on my body then spoke to the woman. I heard nothing, no words, my ears were closed to all sound. She put her arm around the boy’s shoulders and led him out of the room, he seemed emotional. The man followed and again the room plunged into the perpetual darkness that seemed to be my everlasting home. I found understanding difficult in the blackness of that cell, they had blatantly ignored me, leaving my questions unanswered. Was the boy crying? It hurts to see the pain I am putting him through. I wish no one had to be responsible for me, perhaps a little courage a few months ago would have reduced the burden on all concerned. The end result would have remained the same, except the responsibility would have been totally mine and no one elses.

Time seemed to pass like I was asleep in a capsule drifting through the eons of space with no purpose, I never stopped thinking about the past and the future. The damage, the heartache I was leaving behind. There was no value to the emotions coursing threw my veins, was this delusion, fantasy, my mind playing games upon the mortal body? I could not tell, surely yesterday had not been imagination, it had felt real, complete, the old man who helped me, a living creature of sinew and bone. We had walked together, talked and finally shook hands before returning to the darkness of my cell.

The morning broke early, the sun eager to please following yesterdays storm. The woman never arrived, was there no tray? Was she ill, had she slept in? I could not comprehend. She always brought breakfast by now, she never did arrive. Eventually, the door opened and in walked two men, they both looked disturbed and unhappy. The first pulled back the sheets and I asked what he was doing, but there was no answer. He wrapped me in the bottom sheet and together they transferred me to a wheel chair. They struggled, hesitant in the manoeuvre and I slumped in the chair. I could not sit myself up and eventually a pair of strong hands grasped me firmly from behind, correcting my obscene position. We travelled a long bright corridor, turning here and there, a lift carried us down several flights and eventually we bumped threw a number of doors and out into a rough unmade surface of a dank back alley. The sheet covered my eyes, but I could smell the dew, the dampness, the moisture in the early morning air. “Where are you taking me, be careful will you? Is this another check-up?” I asked, conscious I was slipping in the seat, but again, there was no reply. “Excuse me, how far are you taking me, we’ve come a long way outside? Can you move this sheet from my eyes, I can’t see a damn thing like this?” I pleaded. Still there was no reaction. “Why don’t you answer, there’s no need to be down right ignorant, is there?” I demanded, but the silence was disturbing. The two men just continued on their way, I heard no discussion between them. Panic crept into the pit of my stomach, chilling the bones, it was a cold fear of the unknown, but I could not move nor motion or make contact with my attendants. Immobile – as if stuck to the chair by unseen tethers, we just travelled, turning left and then right, slowing down and speeding up. My demands were not met, there were no replies, polite or otherwise. My fearful screams were frightening. I struggled in the chair to draw attention, but we just travelled on endlessly. Neither man spoke, they were ignoring me or just oblivious to my ranting and raving. I had no answers, I felt betrayed and helpless.

Doors creaked open and swung closed behind us, we appeared to enter a different kind of room. The atmosphere was oppressive and harsh, an unknown aroma aroused my senses and distant metallic sounds echoed around a large unseen area. They transferred me heavy handed to a horizontal position on something hard and I heard the men depart, the squeaking of the chair’s wheels growing faint behind me.

Without warning the sheet was drawn away from me and the brilliant white ceiling above seemed to descend rapidly as if breaking free of its fastenings. A man in a white coat and rubber gloves appeared out of the corner of my vision and started to remove my clothing, I protested strongly, but he was a large man with great strength and I was rolled brutally onto my front in one swift motion, the remaining garments dragged from my body without thought or explanation. I was livid, where was the dignity I deserved, a man of my age – this was humiliation beyond endurance. Within seconds I surveyed the room. What I saw shocked me beyond any emotion I could describe, a despair so immeasurable filled me to the brink of madness in seconds – what I felt was beyond comparison to any horrific deed imaginable. Around me lay more immobile bodies of all gender, male, female and children. Stone cold, miscoloured, still and naked and split apart like exploded wreckage on a bloody battlefield. It was as if I were looking in a mirror a thousand times. Unable to move and beyond fear, it slowly dawned that I was but another body in a hospital morgue. Unable to think, comprehend my predicament, I cried out in abject despair sobbing like a child. The man placed me into a large metal drawer he pulled from a great row of closed ones. Suddenly I was plunged into darkness again and the metallic noises stopped, all was still and silent. I could not think, reality, delusion, even hallucination, I could not determine. Who could give me answers now? I screamed out aloud, sobbing hysterically, thrashing about with arms and legs that would not move and once again the darkness was all consuming and all I could hear in that cold tin box was the rhythmic thumping of my hea . . . oh no, no, no beating, there is no beating I screamed – just silence!