Hidden in a forest, a house surrounded by trees. The traffic was sparse, the silence was deafening, the environment was so ominous, so frightening, it was easy to feel so lost in the looming trees. Across the house appeared three street lamps which dimly illuminated the street, shedding light on each crack on the sidewalk, each crushed can laying on the ground, it captured the areas that tried to hide from the naked eye.

I scratched my elbows as I entered the old front gate, which creaked as it opened. I wandered aimlessly around the garden as lonely as a cloud, searching for something that didn’t want to be found. The solid brick walls, the magnificent arched window, the windowsills which longed to be touched by the light. I passed by the wilted plants which were hidden behind the majestic tree in the garden, yet the soil remained dry, dehydrated, almost incapable of facilitating life.

Finally, I found myself facing the front door, which read 2610. I clasped the doorknob and twisted, the door opened wide, already unlocked.  Suddenly, I found myself walking through the hallway towards the kitchen as I stared at the wooden floor, filled with organized patterns and intricate designs, something so beautiful which I never had the time to admire. The kitchen was spotless, with the exception of a few pieces of cutlery scattered across the table. Adjacent to the kitchen was the bathroom, I entered the small room, the lights were dim, the windows were foggy. A draft of cool air from the window went down my back, I laid my hand on the cold faucet handle and twisted it, water flowed out of the spout, and I cupped my hands, creating a small pool of water. I raised my hands to my face as I splashed the water against my forehead, attempting to clear my mind of the memories flooding back, memories which I didn’t want, didn’t need, and when I looked up towards the mirror, nothing looked back.

Eventually, I made my way to the stairs, the soft carpet cushioned my feet as I walked, the sense of support comforted me. The stairs led me towards the long foreboding hallway, the lights slowly dimmed, the photos on the wall followed me as I walked past them. At the end of the hallway, I found a boy seated by his bedside, his elbows dry, his eyes-wide, he hugged his knees as he cradled himself back and forth. I couldn’t help but notice the poorly weaved basket in the corner of the room, in between the holes of the basket sat a small stuffed panther, it looked like a panther behind iron bars. I returned my gaze to the child, he sat there helpless, and in my vision, I saw the trees slowly engulf him, leaving him in nothing but solitude, his cries left unheard, his hands left untouched, his tears left unwiped. He existed in a prison with no walls, a prison of the mind, for he was lost in the trees.