With each step he took it felt like the walls of the hallway were slowly closing in on him and the floor felt like it was going to collapse beneath his feet. Dark. It was so dark. He couldnâ€™t even see his own hands in front of his face when he felt his way around. Without a proper light source, his headache became worse and he could have sworn he heard a voice in the distance though it was probably his imagination. The walls were watching him again, mocking him, laughing at him as they watched him struggle with sadistic sneers on their faces. â€˜The ladâ€™s lost it! Heâ€™s finally getting what was coming to himâ€™ he heard them say over and over again until he covered his ears and started to stagger again. At one point he had tripped over something and came face to face with the cold ground.<br/><br/>He wasnâ€™t sure how long he was out, but when he came to he was still lying in the hallway and the headache was still there. His nausea hadnâ€™t gotten any better either, it seems. Maxwell realized that his hands were trembling and he could feel his vision was blurry; there was a chance that he had hit his head pretty hard when he blacked out. Desperately, he tried to get to his feet, but he couldnâ€™t feel his legs. Panic hit him suddenly. Had his legs been cut off during the time he was unconscious? As much as he wanted to find out he found himself frozen, unable to move from his position. The voices were still rambling in his head. All he could do was lay there, arms wrapped around him, eyes shut, praying that they would stop and he could find some sense of comfort.<br/><br/>They say that the safest place is within oneâ€™s mind.<br/><br/>And so he tried his best to relax, to flush out all the horrible things around him and create a mental image of peace. But his thoughts were clouded with fragmented images of anger that the anger only manifested into the current situation and he could almost feel that rage bottle inside him. He wanted to scream, but he knew nobody would hear him; he was all alone here. Loneliness was a terrible fate, one that he did not want to meet but it seems that it could not be avoided. He was stuck here, all alone, nobody around him but the walls. The walls and someone watching himâ€¦ the wallsâ€¦ the wallsâ€¦ They had eyes! He was not making it up! They had eyes!<br/><br/>The walls continued to close on him almost as if on cue, like his thoughts triggered it, and it was then that he yelled in fear. He could feel them drawing closer, closer, until they were right against his body ready to crush him. Powerless to do anything, he just lay there, â€œNo! Donâ€™t kill me! I havenâ€™t done anything wrong, leave me ALONE!â€ He yelled. It was as if he let that bottled up anger loose but the walls only laughed at him and continued to move in closer. Maxwell kept his eyes shut, not wanting to watch himself be crushed by this demonic place. He tried to put himself in a peaceful state of mind, imagining that there was nothing around him but peace.<br/><br/>There was a garden and a waterfall. That was what his mind pictured. There was light as well, plenty of lightâ€¦ plenty of light. He found himself slipping into that reality further and further until he was completely in and free to roam around. It was wonderful.