Light floods my vision whilst moving people overwhelm my brain, busy, busy, busy.
Water washes over my ears; a tap not quite turned tight enough, the echo a now eternal drip inside my skull, images of a cold dark cave crash over my thoughts and ruin my focus.
The taste of iron fills my mouth whilst darkness fills my mind.
Running through my hands: sensations of fear, regrets of bad judgement, and yet I am paralyzed, even the sudden touch of cold metal beneath my back cannot save me now.
Nothing, no smell, white sterilised walls do not smell, but fire climbing up my nose and reaching my brain tells me bleach has a smell, yet alarms do not smell so I cannot realise I am still not gone, I am still more than my five senses even if it is these five that trap me in my box.
Yet all I am left with are five themes of chaos, five ways to be eternally tortured.