Bachira didn't know how long he had been locked up in here. All he could see were white walls and his hallucinations. Those monsters wouldn't leave him alone.

He tried his best to shut them out, let go of them, but his efforts were in vain. The monster his mind had created from his loneliness, the monster that had been his companion when it came to football, was now getting out of hand.

He'd recently been diagnosed with schizophrenia and some other mental problems, which resulted in him getting sent to the mental asylum for recovery.

He hated it here. He was a naturally very energetic person, which meant that he hated being cooped up in a room all the time. All he had to keep him entertained was a football and a few other items. He was grateful for the football, but playing it in this room wasn't as satisfying as playing on a field.

But when he met you, his doctor, he felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. You weren't like the other mean doctors, you were his age, which meant you'd be able to understand him better. He always looked forward to your visits.

Right now, he was practicing his dribbling in his room, weaving the ball on the cold ground. He was waiting eagerly for your next visit, which is in a few minutes.