Awakening in my cell in the morning everyday. Where the lunch is brought to me, the sorrow in my eyes grow deeper, and deeper. Without my Meds I am nothing. The strange formality of my situation of how I've fallen into this predicament unable to navigate my life. The white walls surrounded around me, in my restraint chair he walks in.
    “Well Mr… Flores, how are you feeling” his soft but firm voice says.
Removing the spit mask around my face Clearing my voice.
“I fell great” hesitating to say.
With a puzzled look on his face he looks in distraught, his indication for action is their but, behind his glasses and his smirked face he seems to not want me to leave. The interruption of the nurse stops the conversation that we were having.
“Dr. the patient in room I-11 is having a seizure” she says.
“Contain the patient well be done here in a second.” The nurse shutting the door.
“Well it seems to me I have to go, keep your head up Mr. Flores.” his conspicuous grin on his face widens.
How am I supposed to keep my head up when I'm here? Three years ago from today the little boy across the street so elegantly ran around, his short black hair moved through the wind as I watched him  running to me in his hands a stuffed teddy bear. The neighbors knew me and knew my occupation as a teacher at the local preschool, where I used to work. In 2001 they fired me of suspicions of molesting a little boy, a crime I did not commit, these false allegations led me to moving from my 2000$ a month mortgage to a small cottage on the edge of town. The family and the the little boy who I meet their Devin, came to my house everyday where id read and play with him. One day when his mother was away, he stayed with me.
I laid Devin to bed and went downstairs were I slept when guests were
over. Awakening to the sound of a faint cough I try to close my eyes. The cough growing louder as I walked up the stairs. The sound grew more transparent as I got closer, running up the stairs I realized, it's Devin choking. I attempt a Heimlich maneuver where my belt brushed against his lower back leaving what seems to be cut marks. Unable to dislodge the object from his throat Devin's face turns blue.
    Calling 911 the ambulance arrives, interrogating me of how I came to find him dead. Explaining to them of his parents approval to keep him for the night. The EMT calling over the detective, pulling up the lifeless boys shirt as he sees the cut marks. Calmly walking over to me he handcuffs me  and puts me in the back of the police car.
When Devin's mother arrived at the scene she was in tears. “How could you do this to my baby!” Her eyes implanted in my head as we pulled away from my driveway. How could I let this happen? The circumstance of my situation was plead guilty to sexual assault, or serve my 3 year sentence in the mental health institute of new jersey.
A new nurse walking in her soft spoken voice says, “time for you Prozac.” The medication I took to treat my depression, removing my mask I look in her eyes. Something in her eyes that reminds me of the little boy. Giving me my meds I ask, “do you know Devin.” With a long pause of silence she says “you will pay for what you have done.” Sitting the bottle on the table across from me she slams the door behind her. Sitting in confusion I realize different color of the pill bottle on the table.
Left puzzled by the nurse, my eyes grow heavy and I find myself slipping away.