From Fox's point of view. This is a side of him I don't tend to show as often, and was one of my favorite pieces to write.
Agoraphobia – abnormal fear of being helpless in a situation from which escape may be difficult or embarrassing that is characterized initially often by panic or anticipatory anxiety and finally by avoidance of open or public places
I've never done well in cages. I've never handled being trapped particularly well. But being trapped in a classroom, waiting for the bell to go, or having to live at home with your parents for sixteen years is a little bit different to being locked up in a cell. You get out of a classroom, and you can move out. I couldn't even handle an hour in a classroom, so I shouldn't have expected to survive being trapped in this awful place. There's no way for me to get out of here. And it really is awful. It's slowly getting to me. Starting to break me down. I'm already breaking; everyone seems to be able to see it. I'm slipping. It's getting worse, worse, worse. If I don't get out of here soon I'll go mad. Of course, they all say that I'm already mad, that I belong in this place, but that isn't true. I'm not crazy, I just wasn't like the rest of them. I didn't want to follow their rules, so they put me here, out of the way.
Every day it seems like this room is getting smaller. I know that it isn't really, and that it's all in my imagination, but it feels so claustrophobic in here. And all I can think about at night is how I'm trapped, how I'm trapped and I won't get out, and it makes me want to scream. Of course, that wouldn't do well - for me to scream. More things for them to write down in their little notebooks, to pretend is some sort of significant breakthrough. I wouldn't want to give them that. That would be letting them win. But not even I can control what I do in my sleep, and when I do sleep, I dream of shrinking rooms and walls moving in to crush me, and awful hospitals with no doors and no windows and no way out, and hallways that just go on forever. And there've been a few nights when I can't help but scream.
Of course I'd never tell the doctors or the nurses about these dreams, because then they would use them against me. And I'm not going to let them win. Not again. I've let them know too much already. But I can't help what they hear while I'm sleeping. Not even I can do that. Which is why I'm in the doctor's office and he's asking me why I scream at night. He sits there and asks, "Fox, what is it that's been bothering you?" as though he cares. He just wants me to tell him so he looks good. So that he can write it down in his little notebook and pretend it's some sort of breakthrough. That's all I am to these people, a paycheck. I keep my head down and don't meet his eyes. I never meet his eyes. "How are you feeling, Fox?" I've noticed that he uses my name a lot. What does he think he'll get out of that? I'm sure there's something to it, but I can't figure out what it is right now.
I know I'm beginning to sound paranoid, but without sleeping properly, and this constant bombardment with questions, it's getting harder and harder to maintain a level head. I've always been level headed, sensible, when everyone else was running around in circles screaming. People are like that, stupid and idiotic and chaotic. I'm not like other people: I'm sensible, I think things through. I put two ands in a sentence, when one should of been a comma. Now this place is even beginning to affect my grammar. That cannot be good. I need to get out of here. But they have me so heavily medicated, there's no way I'd by able to find a way out of this with my head so clouded. So I guess I'm stuck. Stuck stuck stuck stuck stuck. Oh God, how could this have happened to me?
Look at me, I'm almost beginning to sound like a madman. And the doctor's still asking me questions, which is pointless because I'm never going to answer them. He'll be the first person I kill when I get out of here. The first of many. I'm going to have to start making a list. I'll kill the doctors, then the guards, and when I've killed all the staff there'll be no way they can send me back here. There'll be no-one here to send me to. And oh lord, that made no sense at all. Now I'm just rambling nonsense. I know fully well they can just find new staff, or send me to a different hospital, yet I can't ovoid such foolish thoughts. I must be loosing my mind. The doctor's still talking to me, and I'm still too wrapped up in my thoughts to listen. I hate this room. I hate this hospital. I hate this world.
I hate feeling so trapped. I feel like one of those little lab mice, running around in those stupid little mazes for the sake of science, because watching a mouse running around a maze is so scientific. That's what this place is, a maze, and I'm stuck in here looking for the way out. And now I'm going to dream about mazes, with never-ending paths, and nothing but dead ends, and no way out. And isn't this just wonderful, the doctors writing something out. Another prescription. More medication. Something else to drive me insane. I hate my doctor. I hate the police officers who put me in this hell. I hate my lawyer who insisted on pleading insanity. I hate to admit that these people ever could affect me, because they really are below me, and not even worth the honor of licking my shoes. But the truth of the matter is, right now people scare me. They scare me because they put me in this cage, and they're the ones who are keeping me here. I hate cages. I hate the world for putting me in one. I almost hate myself for not having found a way out.
I hate having to admit that I'm scared.
But I am scared. Scared like a pathetic little child. And that can't be right, it just can't. Other people get scared, and I'm not other people. I'm not supposed to get scared.
I hate to say, though, but I'm almost as scared of the idea of getting out of here as I am of the awful place, if only for the fact that they may very well just catch me again and put me back in here. How stupid of me. I'm desperate to get out, and yet I'm too scared to try. But I'll not fall so far. I will get out, eventually. I just need to get my head straight first. But I can't get my head straight while I'm trapped here and all I want to do is scream.
I've not found a way out, yet, but I will find one. If I don't I'll go crazy in this place. I'll drive myself mad. Sometimes, the human mind is the scariest thing of all, and each of us has to face it, every single day of our lives. And I think I'm loosing my mind. If I could just get off these medications, if I could just get rid of this doctor, if I could just get out of this hospital, I'll be fine. My mind won't keep scaring me like it is right now. But first I need to get out of here. I need to find a way to do that. And I want to tell myself to stop being so stubborn and so proud, and to just co-operate, so they'll let me out, but that's exactly what they want me to do, and I'm not falling into that trap. Because I doubt they'd really let me out. And besides, if I told myself that, then I would be talking to myself, and that is a sign of madness. And I'm not mad. Not yet, anyway.