Maddox then turns to the wall and begins to beat his head against the hard concrete over and over again. I can’t see him, and even if the Sane Zone would allow me to turn my head, I wouldn’t watch. Bits of blood and brains and bone begin to cascade down through my field of vision.

He is replaced by Catherine and Chirrak, two young inmates from the Loop who died as Smilers after being experimented on by Happy. They used to chase each other around the prison when Wren let us out of our cells on Wednesday nights. They had crushes on each other but were too young, too immature to know how to say it out loud, so they resorted to playground games. Inside I’m smiling as I watch the kids run back and forth across my field of vision. And then, when Catherine drags Chirrak to the ground and begins clawing at his neck, tearing open veins with a frantic grin on her face, I realize that—in this vision—they are still Smilers, still trying to destroy each other.

These nightmare apparitions continue to come and go. Blue, Harvey, my dad. All of them distorted and frenzied, mocking and threatening. A parade of insanity sprung like a well from my own mind, broadcast before my eyes by the Sane Zone.

And then, finally, the cell door opens once again.

Oh god, I think, oh god, oh god, what is it this time?

My mother sits down on the floor in front of me. Her smile, her kind eyes, they stop time and for a second I feel happy.

No! I tell myself. Do not fall for it, do not let those bastards get to you.

My mom had been the first of the people I love to die. Killed by a disease my family couldn’t afford to even diagnose. Her body had been carried away in a black plastic sheet by a coffin drone.

Her hands begin to move, signing words to me.

I’m so sorry.

I feel tears coating my eyes. The paralysis lifts, and I’m able to move my hands to reply.

Sorry for what? I ask.

Everything. For leaving you alone, for all the pain you have faced, for all the people you have lost, she replies, her hands moving fast, her eyes never leaving me.

It’s not your fault, I reply. And I’m lost now, barely aware of how far I’ve fallen away from the knowledge that this isn’t real.

I hate them, Luka, for what they’ve done to you, for what they do to you day after day. They are cruel.

And the tears fall from my eyes now, spilling down my cheeks until I can taste the salt of them in my mouth. I don’t know how much more I can take, Mom.