The softness of my sheets on my bed don’t even register in my head as I involuntarily remember the dark walls and cold metal of the bars of my suffocating cage within the institution. Institution. The word awakens both a bitter chuckle and a chilling shudder down my spine. To put it mildly…it was an institution.

But anyone there would have called it the gateway to Hell.

The only reason it wasn’t Hell was that it ended, thankfully enough.

My head is buffeted with the deadly thoughts and memories of my existence there.

Cold, rubber hands grasped my hair.

Where I was.

The heavy bottom of a hiking boot comes in contact with my chest, which was littered with wounds.

What they did to me.

My back slammed into the metal walls, stinging the fresh wounds, and reopening old ones.

Who they were.

My breathe accelerated, my heart in sync.

Who I was.

All I saw was red. All I wanted was red.

An irresistible hunger arose. New found energy drove me to rise up, adrenaline being infused with my system.

I barely heard the bars slamming in front of me before I lost myself to the familiar pit of anger and frustration as I charged for their throats, fangs fully protracted.

Cold sweat and pumping adrenaline woke me from a small recapitulation of the memories. Heart still running like a wild beast, I jerked my head around wildly, finding someone had come in and opened my poor excuses for curtains and let the sunlight bathe my cluttered room. Innate instincts already kicking in, I took in a quick breath, picking up traces of a familiar scent.

Realizing who it was, and now taking in where I was, I relaxed after piecing together the puzzle of my disarranged life.

I wasn’t in the Godforsaken institution. I wasn’t in my cell.

I was “home” with my brother, safe.

Or at least safe as I could ever be.