The bed was not comfortable,And the path was not long…But it felt like the longest journey I have ever taken.
Wheels moved quietly,And I moved silently…A silence not around me, but inside me.
I tried to leave,Not because I was brave,But because the pain became unbearable.
I didn't think much then…
I was searching for "nothing,"
That state where there is no pain, no repetition, no sound of memory.
And now\... here I am, moving through white corridors,No hand holding me, no gaze understanding me.
Only quick glances from nurses who don't know my name.
Why do people think pain can be seen?
Pain cannot be seen, cannot be measured,It is something locked inside you,Like a room with no window.I remembered everything…The sound of keys when I returned home.
The small shoe near the door.
The faint light in the bedroom.
A moment… then darkness.
I didn't cry then,I didn't scream.I just… quietly shattered.As if sorrow chose to drown me rather than strike me.
On my moving bed,I was not a body being moved,I was a soul collapsing to its depths,To that deep place in my mind,Where everything screams… silently.
Can anything come back?
Not the people… but me.
Can I return as I was? Or is everything over?
The wheels stopped,The door opened,But my journey inward was not over.The light was there…Bright, soft, as if it didn't belong to this place.
It wasn't ordinary room light,But something else.
Bran, the psychiatrist, sat in a cold room where the silence weighed heavier than the unspoken words.
He faced a young patient whose eyes told a lonely story that words could not express.
The doctor spoke about the imaginary friend who accompanied the patient, trying to understand him, trying to offer treatment that
had yet to reach him.
But the deep fear living inside the young man remained beyond Bran's grasp: fear of loneliness, fear of having no one, fear of becoming a predator in a merciless world.
The patient was not just ill; he was trapped in a cage of imagination,where the imaginary friend was the only protector, and solitude was the
greatest pain.
Bran, surrounded by the love of his family, did not hold the key to understanding this pain, for his life was woven between the voices of his children and the laughter of his wife who understood him without words.
This difference between them was a great wall, a bridge yet to be built between the patient's suffering and the doctor's life.
The session was not a cure, but a silence that told stories yet untold, stories of fear, emptiness, and unspoken regret.
At the end, the young man remained alone, and Bran moved on, carrying unanswered questions with him.In moments of quiet, Bran remembered the name of his family.A memory gently appearing through the fog.
His family, present despite the distance,A home filled with love and warmth that still beat in his heart,Those who loved Bran despite his constant distraction, despite his drowning in the worlds
of others.
Bran returned home, to that place pulsing with immeasurable love, where his family awaited him with open hearts and endless warmth.
Though he was physically present among them, his mind drifted in an ocean of restless thoughts—unfinished tasks, and endless sorrows.
Elizabeth, his wife, watched him from afar with a gentle smile and said softly,
"You're here in body, but you never let go of your work from your mind."
Bran smiled faintly, trying to push those pressures aside, yet he knew that drowning in work had become a part of who he was.In the living room, young Jack was absorbed in his favorite toy, a shiny little model race car.
Jack's dream was simple and clear: to become a professional driver, racing on the tracks, feeling the engine's pulse beneath his hands.
In another corner, Sara, his twin sister, laughed lightly after throwing a joke at their father, lighting up his face with her innocent and
playful smile.
Sara, an elementary school student, carried soft dreams like feathers, dancing in her imagination every day: to become a ballet dancer, gracefully moving across the stage with unmatched elegance.
Every morning, their mother drove them to school in her small car, watching over them with tenderness, hiding hope in her eyes for a bright
future worthy of them.
In this warm swamp of serenity, Bran sometimes feared drowning—not in water, but in a world of work that pulled him away from his loved ones.
Yet in Elizabeth's eyes, in Jack's laughter, and Sara's playful jokes, he found a gentle call reminding him that life isn't only what happens in the therapy room—it's here, among those who love him despite everything.
That quiet morning, Bran woke to the soft sound of laughter drifting from the kitchen.
The smell of toasted bread and the sound of warm water running from the tap filled the air.
Small footsteps approached.Sara jumped into his arms, while Jack drovehis little race car along Bran's arm like a racetrack.
Elizabeth, with her usual calm smile, placed a warm cup of coffee in his hands and said:
"Don't forget to take a breath for yourself, at least once today."
He kissed them all. Hugged his children tightly, ran his hand through Elizabeth's hair, then opened the door and left—unaware it might be the last goodbye.
At his office, he settled behind the desk, surrounded by the usual stack of patients' files.
But this session wasn't like the others.A strange man walked in. His features were vague, his eyes didn't seem to look outward but inward—into Bran himself.
Without an introduction, the man sat down, looked straight at him, and began:
Stranger:
➢ Do you have a family?
Bran:
➢ Yes.
Stranger:
➢ Do you love them?
Bran:
➢ Of course.
Stranger:
➢ Do you give things their true value?
Bran:
➢ I try, but…
Stranger:
➢ Can you understand your patients?
Bran:
➢ I listen to them…
Stranger:
➢ Do you imagine yourself in their place?
Bran:
➢ Sometimes.
Stranger:
➢ Do you consider the possibility that you could become like them?
Bran:
➢ I don't know…
Stranger:
➢ Are you ready?
The man smiled softly. Then stood up and left without waiting for an answer, leaving Bran in a chilling silence.
Something twisted in Bran's chest.Sweat formed on his forehead. His fingers trembled.
He tried to continue working but couldn't.
He grabbed his coat and left early without a word.
On his way to the car, his phone rang.It was an unknown number.
Caller:
➢ Are you Mr. Bran Muller?
Bran:
➢ Yes, who is this?
Caller:
➢ I'm sorry to bother you. I have bad news.
Bran:
➢ Go ahead…
Caller:
➢ Are you ready?
Time froze. The voice felt disturbingly familiar.
Bran:
➢ What…?
Caller:
➢ your Family They were in a car accident.
Bran:
➢ wait What? No…
Caller:
❖ I'm sorry. No one survived.
The phone slipped from Bran's hand.
The tranquility he thought was his refuge… was
a trap.