The door slammed shut, leaving me in a cold, empty room. I stood still, listening to the echo of keys clanking as the lock was secured. Silence pressed in—I was alone. A shadow crept across my mind, closing me off from within. This place was strange, filled with harsh sounds, rancid smells, and faces drained of color and joy.
A voice crackled over the PA system: “Free Time.” Moments later, my cell door creaked open, and I stepped from my cage into the corridor. Unsure of where to go, I shuffled down the long, dim hallway. In a barred window, I caught sight of my reflection. Pausing, I felt a faint urge to grieve, but no tears would come. The fire that once burned in my heart had turned to ash. My reflection revealed the battles I had fought—against demons within and without—etched deep upon my face.
Weakened by despair, my strength drained away. Like a wind-up toy at its end, I slid down the wall until I lay curled upon the cold, unforgiving floor. Darkness surrounded me.
Then, a flicker caught my eye—a glimmer of light filtering through a grimy skylight above. Tears welled as I realized how far I had fallen, how hope had slipped away, leaving me here.
In my grief, surrounded by strange sounds, foul odors, and lifeless faces, my thoughts turned back to the light I had once known. With hot tears streaming, I whispered a prayer: “Please God, help me find my way back to the light, the colors, the fragrances of life. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
At once, I felt a presence. My name was spoken, and a warm, dry breeze brushed across my face, drying my tears. It was as if the Savior’s hand had touched me. In that moment, the emptiness lifted. Comfort and healing filled the hollow places, and color returned to my face, and to the world around me.
I was changed. The lock was gone, the door opened, and I remembered who I am.
