I spent almost a week in that capsule. A place hopeless and unforgiving. A place I'd never hoped to egress.

The irony—the very thing designed to give me escape became my prison.

They found me gasping for breath, my air depleted, my will long gone. The idea of freedom had no longer been viable. Certain I'd never escape, I'd accepted my end.

How do I accept that I'm alive? I wait for it to capture me; the unbearable darkness that enveloped me. Will it try to take me again? I want to live, but death is still too real.