I struggle to get out. I struggle to survive. I struggle to forget everything. I struggle to love. I struggle to face whats happening in my life.

I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to face this. I want everything to be back to normal. But it isn’t.

I scratch another tally-mark on the side of the small table that is built into the wall. Seven tally-marks. One for each year.

Next year, I will go home. I will see my child, now eight years old. I will see her again. I miss her. I miss him. I miss my home. I miss my life.

I can’t wait any longer. It’s just too long. I walk to the bars that hold me in. I grip onto on of the bars and rest my forehead on them. The cold sensation shivers up my spine. I am afraid. I am hopeless. I am depressed.

I yell. The yell echos for a couple of minutes, and then I push off from the bars. I turn and cover my eyes. I want no one to see my tears. Theres no hope getting out. No hope at all. Then I realize I may never get out. Because I’m Trapped.