It hurts so bad, I’m sure my head is splitting in two.

“Stop!” I scream, but I can’t even hear my own voice over the noise.

It ends abruptly, and I bow my head, heaving. My body shakes, hands trembling in front of me like I’m freezing.

I want to move, but I’m too afraid they’ll start it again.

There is a ringing in my ears that adds to the throbbing pain, taking my breath away.

Have my eardrums burst? The pain is so intense that I can’t lift my head or move my limbs, but there is no sound in here now, so I can’t tell if I can hear or not.

It’s not long until I get an answer and assume the fetal position again. A low-pitched, booming sound thunders through the speakers. Boom, boom, boom, over and over again, loud, low, and punishing like having something constantly smashing into the side of your head.

I cry out, my throat dry and raw with the rips of screams that I can’t hear over the booms. They come thick and fast, so powerful that I feel them vibrating through my body and into my bones.

Squeezing my eyes closed and pressing my hands to my ears so tight I feel my tendons pop, I scream into the oblivion.

It stops and starts. The process turning over and over until I wish I had run when I had the chance.

All of a sudden, silence swirls around me, almost as painful as the noise. The contrast between the two making my ears throb in agony.

I wait. And I wait.

A minute later, or it could have been seconds, I dare to open an eye. Is it over? The booming sounds went on for the longest time imaginable.

My headache, feeling like a full-blown migraine now, prevents me from moving an inch. My body is paralyzed with pain.

I don’t know how long I’ve been lying on the floor curled into a ball, but it’s been a while.

Time means nothing in these rooms, but I bet I was in here at least an hour.

My head lolls back, and I look toward the door.

Is it over yet?

Groaning, I lift a heavy hand and run it over my face. My ears hurt so bad, I feel the sting of tears. They’ve already made me wish I’d run; they won’t have my tears, too.

Get it together. Mom and Dad are out there waiting. Be strong for them. Don’t make them have to grieve for another child. I look up to the ceiling and blink until I’ve regained control.

I am getting out of here.

The door clicks. Oh God, it’s over.