• That's the question, where am I? What am I doing here? This place is like a zoo. I'm not free. Stuck behind thick metal bars. In a prison. Trapped.
    It's like being a kid again. I have to ask when I can go out of my cell. When I can talk to visitors who hate me. I get ordered around. Do this and don't do that. My god why? I'm an adult! And I'm accused for everything! My normal response would be: Didn't say it, didn't see it, didn't hear it, so I didn't do it. The problem is, I can't defend myself. I get locked up. Sent to this special place, and then the nightmare starts. My energy is drained from my body. My head droops. I lose control. They tie me to a chair. Shine a light in my eyes. Use threats that I can't get out of my head. They mentally kill me. I can't help but give in. I am defenceless. Nothing compared to my murderers...

    That's what they do, kill me. Say I shouldn't be here. That I'm a mistake. That I should never have happened. They lie to me. I don't say a word. They get to my head. Say that I'm a nightmare, not a hero. I slowly die inside. Can feel my stomach churn. They don't know their doing it, but they are.
    Dragons fly. Dragons scorch. Scorch the murderers. I live. They die. The prison is destroyed. My pain and agony avenged. Dragons fly. Dragons scorch. Scorch the blackened ground. Roaring their victory. I regain my strength. They set me free. Now they're powerless. Dragons fly. Dragons scorch. And I don't care...I play the scene over and over in my mind, smiling at it's gruesome contents. I reckon I could do it. Break free, but without the dragons. But I can't. My life is gone. I'm a broken tool, of no use to anyone.

    Locked behind bars, I lie on the bed, flicking a pen I picked up from the reception. That's all I can do. Flick a pen. It's boring in here. My roommate snores, taking his evening snooze. A knock at the door. They enter without permission. Their here. The black ops. They have returned to torture me.
    They try to negotiate, telling me I've done nothing wong. I just grunt and turn away. They grab at my arm. I try to pull away, but their too strong. I am forced to follow.
    They drag me, but never tie or cuff me. This is strange. Maybe they don't want to hurt me? Wait. They take me somewhere else. Not the interrogation unit.
    They take me outside. Down the road. Past the common. Past the town square. Are they getting ready to execute me? No, surely not...

    I escaped that thought when I arrived at the destination. Somewhere familiar. I just couldn't quite tap into it. I had only been here once before. An unusual character - I knew - lived at the end of the road.
    When the character opened the door, I remembered his jolly face. His ginger hair and beard. His fat beer filled stomach. I leapt into his arms, wet tears of joy slithering down my cold face. I yelled his name, so I knew it really was him, not just a figment of my imagination. He smiled.
    I was so happy. And he knew it as he welcomed me inside...