Between my palms the oars screeched as they cut through my skin. The wooden handles were rough and unforgiving, if I pulled my hands away I would see my blood splattered across them, painting a picture of my pain. Splinters had sprung and began digging into my skin. My strength had sapped from my soul after only a few strokes on the river, will was the only thing powering my movements - and luckily, I was aided by the current.

Rain struck the rambunctious river waves with a mighty crescendo. Ripples trembled along the surface until they were swallowed by crashing water, all feeding a deathly current, dragging my boat away from where I had begun. I’d been paddling for so long that no sign of my prison was visible. But maybe it was just the storm clouds. The moment I’d pushed through the fire exit a grey cloak had shrouded the sky and thruster a never-ending rain assault on my head. I had stumbled through a forest path, trying not to ware myself out only hundreds of metres away from confinement. To my fortune, washed up ashore the bank of the bordering river lay an old rowboat.

The vessel had seen better days. One of the two benches had ripped from its holding, leaving only splinters in its wake. The paint-job, which at some time must have been a joyful green, was chipped and so only the ghost of a once happy colour remained. It wouldn’t take long for the institution to notice my absence, if I was on the river, they would never catch me. So, I poured all of my strength into my arms and heaved the boat into the water. The current had already strengthened and almost dragged the boat away from me without me in it, but I tripped into it, picked up the oars and began to paddle.

It could have been minutes since my escape or hours, time was irrelevant. I was free. Shivering, sore and bleeding. But free. No more strict meals or limited activity time. I could go wherever I wanted, all I had to do was row to the end of the river.

The river was loud, it was vicious. The constant rattling of rain added to it, as did the thunder. Wind swept through my hair and while its chill pierced though me, I felt alive. All the noises melted together: the rain, the waves, the wind, my screeching of the oar, the heaving of my breath. But through it all a voice broke through. The high-pitched yell of nurse Burns, ‘HE’S OVER THERE! ROB, COME BACK!’

My eyes fixed on the bank where a woman in a thick coat tried her hardest to keep up with the current of the river and following her were two security guards. Their clothes were dark, but the flashlights and bright bold lettering of their job on their tops were a clear indication.

Panic settled in. They couldn’t catch me. They couldn’t take me back. I didn’t want to go back. So, I tightened my hands around the bloody wooden oars, the pain was bold but I gritted my teeth and bore it. Tears broke through and joined the rain on my face when I yanked the oars from the water, flung them forward and heaved the backward.

‘STOP ROB! GET TO THE SHORE! BEHIND YOU!’

It was a struggle to move my head, but once it floated behind me I saw what the nurse did. A drop. I didn’t know how far; I didn’t know how violent. Desperately, I tried to go forwards, or turn. But I had no strength, maybe I never did. Maybe I agreed to this the moment I tripped into the boat. I couldn’t fight the current. My eyes fell on the nurse, her screaming noiseless. And I felt the back of the boat float on air for a moment. And then drop.