The Padded Room

They stare at me;
Like wolves hunting prey,
Their eyes yellow, hungry, angry.
They bear their teeth;
Gums pink like they've been well-kept,
But we all know they haven't.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and I plug my ears.

I can still hear them growling.

When I open my eyes, all I see is white;
Walls padded and bare,
No windows, pictures, or doors.
How would I get out if I were trapped?
I wouldn't.
I can't move my hands;
They're wrapped in a coat of white fabric,
Fabric that can't be torn.
No matter how hard I try.

My bed is nothing;
A mat on the floor,
One small, itchy blanket and a thin, hard pillow.
If you could even call it that.
This is my home now.

And just like that, the wolves are back.
I see their hairy faces on the walls,
Swirling like they're trying to get in.
Their eyes are red, now.
Red, fiery, smoldering.

One of them opens his mouth:
"Miss Terry, it's time for your meds."

I buck myself at the sight of him,
Teeth bearing down,
As he suddenly appears in front of me.
I thrash around on the floor,
Refusing to let them win.

He won't give me those pills.

Because I know that if I take them,
I'll go to sleep.